incited him to join in the general combat, in which all the masks
around him were engaged. He rose in his turn, and seizing handfuls
of confetti and sweetmeats, with which the carriage was filled,
cast them with all the force and skill he was master of.
The strife had fairly begun, and the recollection of what they
had seen half an hour before was gradually effaced from the young
men's minds, so much were they occupied by the gay and glittering
procession they now beheld. As for the Count of Monte Cristo, he
had never for an instant shown any appearance of having been moved.
Imagine the large and splendid Corso, bordered from one end to the
other with lofty palaces, with their balconies hung with carpets,
and their windows with flags. At these balconies are three hundred
thousand spectators — Romans, Italians, strangers from all parts of
the world, the united aristocracy of birth, wealth, and genius.
Lovely women, yielding to the influence of the scene, bend over
their balconies, or lean from their windows, and shower down
confetti, which are returned by bouquets; the air seems darkened
with the falling confetti and flying flowers. In the streets the
lively crowd is dressed in the most fantastic costumes — gigantic
cabbages walk gravely about, buffaloes' heads below from men's
shoulders, dogs walk on their hind legs; in the midst of all this a
mask is lifted, and, as in Callot's Temptation of St. Anthony, a
lovely face is exhibited, which we would fain follow, but from
which we are separated by troops of fiends. This will give a faint
idea of the Carnival at Rome. At the second turn the Count stopped
the carriage, and requested permission to withdraw, leaving the
vehicle at their disposal. Franz looked up — they were opposite the
Rospoli Palace. At the centre window, the one hung with white
damask with a red cross, was a blue domino, beneath which Franz's
imagination easily pictured the beautiful Greek of the Argentina.
"Gentlemen," said the count, springing out, "when you are tired of"Gentlemen," said the count, springing out, "when you are tired of
being actors, and wish to become spectators of this scene, you know
you have places at my windows. In the meantime, dispose of my
coachman, my carriage, and my servants." We have forgotten to
mention, that the count's coachman was attired in a bear-skin,
exactly resembling Odry's in "The Bear and the Pasha;" and the two
footmen behind were dressed up as green monkeys, with spring masks,
with which they made grimaces at every one who passed. Franz
thanked the count for his attention. As for Albert, he was busily
occupied throwing bouquets at a carriage full of Roman peasants
that was passing near him. Unfortunately for him, the line of
carriages moved on again, and while he descended the Piazza del
Popolo, the other ascended towards the Palazzo di Venezia. "Ah, my
dear fellow," said he to Franz; "you did not see?"
"What?"
"There, — that calash filled with Roman peasants."
"No."
"Well, I am convinced they are all charming women."
"How unfortunate that you were masked, Albert," said Franz;
"here was an opportunity of making up for past
disappointments."
"Oh," replied he, half laughing, half serious; "I hope the
Carnival will not pass without some amends in one shape or the
other."
But, in spite of Albert's hope, the day passed unmarked by any
incident, excepting two or three encounters with the carriage full
of Roman peasants. At one of these encounters, accidentally or
purposely, Albert's mask fell off. He instantly rose and cast the
remainder of the bouquets into the carriage. Doubtless one of the
charming females Albert had detected beneath their coquettish
disguise was touched by his gallantry; for, as the carriage of the
two friends passed her, she threw a bunch of violets. Albert seized
it, and as Franz had no reason to suppose it was meant for him, he
suffered Albert to retain it. Albert placed it in his button-hole,
and the carriage went triumphantly on.
"Well," said Franz to him; "there is the beginning of an
adventure.""Well," said Franz to him; "there is the beginning of an
adventure."
"Laugh if you please — I really think so. So I will not abandon
this bouquet."
"Pardieu," returned Franz, laughing, "in token of your
ingratitude." The jest, however, soon appeared to become earnest;
for when Albert and Franz again encountered the carriage with the
contadini, the one who had thrown the violets to Albert, clapped
her hands when she beheld them in his button-hole. "Bravo, bravo,"
said Franz; "things go wonderfully. Shall I leave you? Perhaps you
would prefer being alone?"
"No," replied he; "I will not be caught like a fool at a first
disclosure by a rendezvous under the clock, as they say at the
opera-balls. If the fair peasant wishes to carry matters any
further, we shall find her, or rather, she will find us to-morrow;
then she will give me some sign or other, and I shall know what I
have to do."
"On my word," said Franz, "you are wise as Nestor and prudent as
Ulysses, and your fair Circe must be very skilful or very powerful
if she succeed in changing you into a beast of any kind." Albert
was right; the fair unknown had resolved, doubtless, to carry the
intrigue no farther; for although the young men made several more
turns, they did not again see the calash, which had turned up one
of the neighboring streets. Then they returned to the Rospoli
Palace; but the count and the blue domino had also disappeared; the
two windows, hung with yellow damask, were still occupied by the
persons whom the count had invited. At this moment the same bell
that had proclaimed the beginning of the mascherata sounded the
retreat. The file on the Corso broke the line, and in a second all
the carriages had disappeared. Franz and Albert were opposite the
Via delle Maratte; the coachman, without saying a word, drove up
it, passed along the Piazza di Spagni and the Rospoli Palace and
stopped at the door of the hotel. Signor Pastrini came to the door
to receive his guests. Franz hastened to inquire after the count,