themselves, their lovers, or their own thoughts, that they had not
so much as noticed him or the manipulation of his glass.
The truth was, that the anticipated pleasures of the Carnival,
with the "holy week" that was to succeed it, so filled every fair
breast, as to prevent the least attention being bestowed even on
the business of the stage. The actors made their entries and exits
unobserved or unthought of; at certain conventional moments, the
spectators would suddenly cease their conversation, or rouse
themselves from their musings, to listen to some brilliant effort
of Moriani's, a well-executed recitative by Coselli, or to join in
loud applause at the wonderful powers of La Specchia; but that
momentary excitement over, they quickly relapsed into their former
state of preoccupation or interesting conversation. Towards the
close of the first act, the door of a box which had been hitherto
vacant was opened; a lady entered to whom Franz had been introduced
in Paris, where indeed, he had imagined she still was. The quick
eye of Albert caught the involuntary start with which his friend
beheld the new arrival, and, turning to him, he said hastily, "Do
you know the woman who has just entered that box?"
"Yes; what do you think of her?"
"Oh, she is perfectly lovely — what a complexion! And such
magnificent hair! Is she French?"
"No; a Venetian."
"And her name is — "
"Countess G—— ."
"Ah, I know her by name!" exclaimed Albert; "she is said to
possess as much wit and cleverness as beauty. I was to have been
presented to her when I met her at Madame Villefort's ball."
"Shall I assist you in repairing your negligence?" asked
Franz.
"My dear fellow, are you really on such good terms with her as
to venture to take me to her box?"
"Why, I have only had the honor of being in her society and
conversing with her three or four times in my life; but you know
that even such an acquaintance as that might warrant my doing what
you ask." At that instant, the countess perceived Franz, andyou ask." At that instant, the countess perceived Franz, and
graciously waved her hand to him, to which he replied by a
respectful inclination of the head. "Upon my word," said Albert,
"you seem to be on excellent terms with the beautiful
countess."
"You are mistaken in thinking so," returned Franz calmly; "but
you merely fall into the same error which leads so many of our
countrymen to commit the most egregious blunders, — I mean that of
judging the habits and customs of Italy and Spain by our Parisian
notions; believe me, nothing is more fallacious than to form any
estimate of the degree of intimacy you may suppose existing among
persons by the familiar terms they seem upon; there is a similarity
of feeling at this instant between ourselves and the countess —
nothing more."
"Is there, indeed, my good fellow? Pray tell me, is it sympathy
of heart?"
"No; of taste," continued Franz gravely.
"And in what manner has this congeniality of mind been
evinced?"
"By the countess's visiting the Colosseum, as we did last night,
by moonlight, and nearly alone."
"You were with her, then?"
"I was."
"And what did you say to her?"
"Oh, we talked of the illustrious dead of whom that magnificent
ruin is a glorious monument!"
"Upon my word," cried Albert, "you must have been a very
entertaining companion alone, or all but alone, with a beautiful
woman in such a place of sentiment as the Colosseum, and yet to
find nothing better a talk about than the dead! All I can say is,
if ever I should get such a chance, the living should be my
theme."
"And you will probably find your theme ill-chosen."
"But," said Albert, breaking in upon his discourse, "never mind
the past; let us only remember the present. Are you not going to
keep your promise of introducing me to the fair subject of our
remarks?"
"Certainly, directly the curtain falls on the stage."
"What a confounded time this first act takes. I believe, on my
soul, that they never mean to finish it."
"Oh, yes, they will; only listen to that charming finale. How"Oh, yes, they will; only listen to that charming finale. How
exquisitely Coselli sings his part."
"But what an awkward, inelegant fellow he is."
"Well, then, what do you say to La Specchia? Did you ever see
anything more perfect than her acting?"
"Why, you know, my dear fellow, when one has been accustomed to
Malibran and Sontag, such singers as these don't make the same
impression on you they perhaps do on others."
"At least, you must admire Moriani's style and execution."
"I never fancied men of his dark, ponderous appearance singing
with a voice like a woman's."
"My good friend," said Franz, turning to him, while Albert
continued to point his glass at every box in the theatre, "you seem
determined not to approve; you are really too difficult to please."
The curtain at length fell on the performances, to the infinite
satisfaction of the Viscount of Morcerf, who seized his hat,
rapidly passed his fingers through his hair, arranged his cravat
and wristbands, and signified to Franz that he was waiting for him
to lead the way. Franz, who had mutely interrogated the countess,
and received from her a gracious smile in token that he would be
welcome, sought not to retard the gratification of Albert's eager
impatience, but began at once the tour of the house, closely
followed by Albert, who availed himself of the few minutes required
to reach the opposite side of the theatre to settle the height and
smoothness of his collar, and to arrange the lappets of his coat.
This important task was just completed as they arrived at the
countess's box. At the knock, the door was immediately opened, and
the young man who was seated beside the countess, in obedience to
the Italian custom, instantly rose and surrendered his place to the
strangers, who, in turn, would be expected to retire upon the
arrival of other visitors.
Franz presented Albert as one of the most distinguished young
men of the day, both as regarded his position in society and
extraordinary talents; nor did he say more than the truth, for in