hearing it. Excited beyond his usual calm demeanor, Franz rose with
the audience, and was about to join the loud, enthusiastic applause
that followed; but suddenly his purpose was arrested, his hands
fell by his sides, and the half-uttered "bravos" expired on his
lips. The occupant of the box in which the Greek girl sat appeared
to share the universal admiration that prevailed; for he left his
seat to stand up in front, so that, his countenance being fully
revealed, Franz had no difficulty in recognizing him as the
mysterious inhabitant of Monte Cristo, and the very same person he
had encountered the preceding evening in the ruins of the
Colosseum, and whose voice and figure had seemed so familiar to
him. All doubt of his identity was now at an end; his singular host
evidently resided at Rome. The surprise and agitation occasioned by
this full confirmation of Franz's former suspicion had no doubt
imparted a corresponding expression to his features; for the
countess, after gazing with a puzzled look at his face, burst into
a fit of laughter, and begged to know what had happened.
"Countess," returned Franz, totally unheeding her raillery, "I
asked you a short time since if you knew any particulars respecting
the Albanian lady opposite; I must now beseech you to inform me who
and what is her husband?"
"Nay," answered the countess, "I know no more of him than
yourself."
"Perhaps you never before noticed him?"
"What a question — so truly French! Do you not know that we
Italians have eyes only for the man we love?"
"True," replied Franz.
"All I can say is," continued the countess, taking up the
lorgnette, and directing it toward the box in question, "that the
gentleman, whose history I am unable to furnish, seems to me as
though he had just been dug up; he looks more like a corpse
permitted by some friendly grave-digger to quit his tomb for a
while, and revisit this earth of ours, than anything human. How
ghastly pale he is!"
"Oh, he is always as colorless as you now see him," said
Franz.ghastly pale he is!"
"Oh, he is always as colorless as you now see him," said
Franz.
"Then you know him?" almost screamed the countess. "Oh, pray do,
for heaven's sake, tell us all about — is he a vampire, or a
resuscitated corpse, or what?"
"I fancy I have seen him before; and I even think he recognizes
me."
"And I can well understand," said the countess, shrugging up her
beautiful shoulders, as though an involuntary shudder passed
through her veins, "that those who have once seen that man will
never be likely to forget him." The sensation experienced by Franz
was evidently not peculiar to himself; another, and wholly
uninterested person, felt the same unaccountable awe and misgiving.
"Well." inquired Franz, after the countess had a second time
directed her lorgnette at the box, "what do you think of our
opposite neighbor?"
"Why, that he is no other than Lord Ruthven himself in a living
form." This fresh allusion to Byron* drew a smile to Franz's
countenance; although he could but allow that if anything was
likely to induce belief in the existence of vampires, it would be
the presence of such a man as the mysterious personage before
him.
"I must positively find out who and what he is," said Franz,
rising from his seat.
"No, no," cried the countess; "you must not leave me. I depend
upon you to escort me home. Oh, indeed, I cannot permit you to
go."
(* Scott, of course: "The son of an ill-fated sire, and the
father of a yet more unfortunate family, bore in his looks that
cast of inauspicious melancholy by which the physiognomists of that
time pretended to distinguish those who were predestined to a
violent and unhappy death." — The Abbot, ch. xxii.)
"Is it possible," whispered Franz, "that you entertain any
fear?"
"I'll tell you," answered the countess. "Byron had the most
perfect belief in the existence of vampires, and even assured me
that he had seen them. The description he gave me perfectly
corresponds with the features and character of the man before us.corresponds with the features and character of the man before us.
Oh, he is the exact personification of what I have been led to
expect! The coal-black hair, large bright, glittering eyes, in
which a wild, unearthly fire seems burning, — the same ghastly
paleness. Then observe, too, that the woman with him is altogether
unlike all others of her sex. She is a foreigner — a stranger.
Nobody knows who she is, or where she comes from. No doubt she
belongs to the same horrible race he does, and is, like himself, a
dealer in magical arts. I entreat of you not to go near him — at
least to-night; and if to-morrow your curiosity still continues as
great, pursue your researches if you will; but to-night you neither
can nor shall. For that purpose I mean to keep you all to myself."
Franz protested he could not defer his pursuit till the following
day, for many reasons. "Listen to me," said the countess, "and do
not be so very headstrong. I am going home. I have a party at my
house to-night, and therefore cannot possibly remain till the end
of the opera. Now, I cannot for one instant believe you so devoid
of gallantry as to refuse a lady your escort when she even
condescends to ask you for it."
There was nothing else left for Franz to do but to take up his
hat, open the door of the box, and offer the countess his arm. It
was quite evident, by her manner, that her uneasiness was not
feigned; and Franz himself could not resist a feeling of
superstitious dread — so much the stronger in him, as it arose from
a variety of corroborative recollections, while the terror of the
countess sprang from an instinctive belief, originally created in
her mind by the wild tales she had listened to till she believed
them truths. Franz could even feel her arm tremble as he assisted
her into the carriage. Upon arriving at her hotel, Franz perceived
that she had deceived him when she spoke of expecting company; on
the contrary, her own return before the appointed hour seemed
greatly to astonish the servants. "Excuse my little subterfuge,"