moccoletti, are candles which vary in size from the pascal taper to
the rushlight, and which give to each actor in the great final
scene of the Carnival two very serious problems to grapple with, —
first, how to keep his own moccoletto alight; and secondly, how to
extinguish the moccoletti of others. The moccoletto is like life:
man has found but one means of transmitting it, and that one comes
from God. But he has discovered a thousand means of taking it away,
and the devil has somewhat aided him. The moccoletto is kindled by
approaching it to a light. But who can describe the thousand means
of extinguishing the moccoletto? — the gigantic bellows, the
monstrous extinguishers, the superhuman fans. Every one hastened to
purchase moccoletti — Franz and Albert among the rest.
The night was rapidly approaching; and already, at the cry of
"Moccoletti!" repeated by the shrill voices of a thousand vendors,
two or three stars began to burn among the crowd. It was a signal.
At the end of ten minutes fifty thousand lights glittered,
descending from the Palazzo di Venezia to the Piazza del Popolo,
and mounting from the Piazzo del Popolo to the Palazzo di Venezia.
It seemed like the fete of jack-o'-lanterns. It is impossible to
form any idea of it without having seen it. Suppose that all the
stars had descended from the sky and mingled in a wild dance on the
face of the earth; the whole accompanied by cries that were never
heard in any other part of the world. The facchino follows the
prince, the Transteverin the citizen, every one blowing,
extinguishing, relighting. Had old AEolus appeared at this moment,
he would have been proclaimed king of the moccoli, and Aquilo the
heir-presumptive to the throne. This battle of folly and flame
continued for two hours; the Corso was light as day; the features
of the spectators on the third and fourth stories were visible.
Every five minutes Albert took out his watch; at length it pointed
to seven. The two friends were in the Via dei Pontefici. Albertto seven. The two friends were in the Via dei Pontefici. Albert
sprang out, bearing his moccoletto in his hand. Two or three masks
strove to knock his moccoletto out of his hand; but Albert, a
first-rate pugilist, sent them rolling in the street, one after the
other, and continued his course towards the church of San Giacomo.
The steps were crowded with masks, who strove to snatch each
other's torches. Franz followed Albert with his eyes, and saw him
mount the first step. Instantly a mask, wearing the well-known
costume of a peasant woman, snatched his moccoletto from him
without his offering any resistance. Franz was too far off to hear
what they said; but, without doubt, nothing hostile passed, for he
saw Albert disappear arm-in-arm with the peasant girl. He watched
them pass through the crowd for some time, but at length he lost
sight of them in the Via Macello. Suddenly the bell that gives the
signal for the end of the carnival sounded, and at the same instant
all the moccoletti were extinguished as if by enchantment. It
seemed as though one immense blast of the wind had extinguished
every one. Franz found himself in utter darkness. No sound was
audible save that of the carriages that were carrying the maskers
home; nothing was visible save a few lights that burnt behind the
windows. The Carnival was over.The first words that Albert uttered to his friend, on the
following morning, contained a request that Franz would accompany
him on a visit to the count; true, the young man had warmly and
energetically thanked the count on the previous evening; but
services such as he had rendered could never be too often
acknowledged. Franz, who seemed attracted by some invisible
influence towards the count, in which terror was strangely mingled,
felt an extreme reluctance to permit his friend to be exposed alone
to the singular fascination that this mysterious personage seemed
to exercise over him, and therefore made no objection to Albert's
request, but at once accompanied him to the desired spot, and,
after a short delay, the count joined them in the salon. "My dear
count," said Albert, advancing to meet him, "permit me to repeat
the poor thanks I offered last night, and to assure you that the
remembrance of all I owe to you will never be effaced from my
memory; believe me, as long as I live, I shall never cease to dwell
with grateful recollection on the prompt and important service you
rendered me; and also to remember that to you I am indebted even
for my life."
"My very good friend and excellent neighbor," replied the count,
with a smile, "you really exaggerate my trifling exertions. You owe
me nothing but some trifle of 20,000 francs, which you have been
saved out of your travelling expenses, so that there is not much of
a score between us; — but you must really permit me to congratulate
you on the ease and unconcern with which you resigned yourself to
your fate, and the perfect indifference you manifested as to the
turn events might take."
"Upon my word," said Albert, "I deserve no credit for what I
could not help, namely, a determination to take everything as I
found it, and to let those bandits see, that although men get into
troublesome scrapes all over the world, there is no nation but the
French that can smile even in the face of grim Death himself. AllFrench that can smile even in the face of grim Death himself. All
that, however, has nothing to do with my obligations to you, and I
now come to ask you whether, in my own person, my family, or
connections, I can in any way serve you? My father, the Comte de
Morcerf, although of Spanish origin, possesses considerable
influence, both at the court of France and Madrid, and I
unhesitatingly place the best services of myself, and all to whom
my life is dear, at your disposal."
"Monsieur de Morcerf," replied the count, "your offer, far from
surprising me, is precisely what I expected from you, and I accept
it in the same spirit of hearty sincerity with which it is made; —
nay, I will go still further, and say that I had previously made up
my mind to ask a great favor at your hands."
"Oh, pray name it."
"I am wholly a stranger to Paris — it is a city I have never yet
seen."
"Is it possible," exclaimed Albert, "that you have reached your
present age without visiting the finest capital in the world? I can
scarcely credit it."
"Nevertheless, it is quite true; still, I agree with you in
thinking that my present ignorance of the first city in Europe is a
reproach to me in every way, and calls for immediate correction;
but, in all probability, I should have performed so important, so
necessary a duty, as that of making myself acquainted with the
wonders and beauties of your justly celebrated capital, had I known
any person who would have introduced me into the fashionable world,
but unfortunately I possessed no acquaintance there, and, of
necessity, was compelled to abandon the idea."
"So distinguished an individual as yourself," cried Albert,
"could scarcely have required an introduction."
"You are most kind; but as regards myself, I can find no merit I
possess, save that, as a millionaire, I might have become a partner
in the speculations of M. Aguado and M. Rothschild; but as my
motive in travelling to your capital would not have been for the
pleasure of dabbling in stocks, I stayed away till some favorable