Chapter 34. The Colosseum
Franz had so managed his route, that during the ride to the Colosseumthey passed not a single ancient ruin, so that no preliminary impressioninterfered to mitigate the colossal proportions of the gigantic buildingthey came to admire. The road selected was a continuation of the ViaSistina; then by cutting off the right angle of the street in whichstands Santa Maria Maggiore and proceeding by the Via Urbana and SanPietro in Vincoli, the travellers would find themselves directlyopposite the Colosseum.
This itinerary possessed another great advantage,—that of leaving Franzat full liberty to indulge his deep reverie upon the subject of SignorPastrini’s story, in which his mysterious host of Monte Cristo was sostrangely mixed up. Seated with folded arms in a corner of the carriage,he continued to ponder over the singular history he had so latelylistened to, and to ask himself an interminable number of questionstouching its various circumstances without, however, arriving at asatisfactory reply to any of them.
One fact more than the rest brought his friend “Sinbad the Sailor” backto his recollection, and that was the mysterious sort of intimacy thatseemed to exist between the brigands and the sailors; and Pastrini’saccount of Vampa’s having found refuge on board the vessels of smugglersand fishermen, reminded Franz of the two Corsican bandits he had foundsupping so amicably with the crew of the little yacht, which had evendeviated from its course and touched at Porto-Vecchio for the solepurpose of landing them. The very name assumed by his host of MonteCristo and again repeated by the landlord of the Hôtel de Londres,abundantly proved to him that his island friend was playing hisphilanthropic part on the shores of Piombino, Civita Vecchia, Ostia, andGaëta, as on those of Corsica, Tuscany, and Spain; and further, Franzbethought him of having heard his singular entertainer speak both ofTunis and Palermo, proving thereby how largely his circle ofacquaintances extended.
But however the mind of the young man might be absorbed in thesereflections, they were at once dispersed at the sight of the darkfrowning ruins of the stupendous Colosseum, through the various openingsof which the pale moonlight played and flickered like the unearthlygleam from the eyes of the wandering dead. The carriage stopped near theMeta Sudans; the door was opened, and the young men, eagerly alighting,found themselves opposite a cicerone, who appeared to have sprung upfrom the ground, so unexpected was his appearance.
The usual guide from the hotel having followed them, they had paid twoconductors, nor is it possible, at Rome, to avoid this abundant supplyof guides; besides the ordinary cicerone, who seizes upon you directlyyou set foot in your hotel, and never quits you while you remain in thecity, there is also a special cicerone belonging to each monument—nay,almost to each part of a monument. It may, therefore, be easily imaginedthere is no scarcity of guides at the Colosseum, that wonder of allages, which Martial thus eulogizes:
“Let Memphis cease to boast the barbarous miracles of her pyramids, andthe wonders of Babylon be talked of no more among us; all must bow tothe superiority of the gigantic labor of the Cæsars, and the many voicesof Fame spread far and wide the surpassing merits of this incomparablemonument.”
As for Albert and Franz, they essayed not to escape from theirciceronian tyrants; and, indeed, it would have been so much the moredifficult to break their bondage, as the guides alone are permitted tovisit these monuments with torches in their hands. Thus, then, the youngmen made no attempt at resistance, but blindly and confidinglysurrendered themselves into the care and custody of their conductors.
Franz had already made seven or eight similar excursions to theColosseum, while his less favored companion trod for the first time inhis life the classic ground forming the monument of Flavius Vespasian;and, to his credit be it spoken, his mind, even amid the glib loquacityof the guides, was duly and deeply touched with awe and enthusiasticadmiration of all he saw; and certainly no adequate notion of thesestupendous ruins can be formed save by such as have visited them, andmore especially by moonlight, at which time the vast proportions of thebuilding appear twice as large when viewed by the mysterious beams of asouthern moonlit sky, whose rays are sufficiently clear and vivid tolight the horizon with a glow equal to the soft twilight of a westernclime.
Scarcely, therefore, had the reflective Franz walked a hundred stepsbeneath the interior porticoes of the ruin, when, abandoning Albert tothe guides (who would by no means yield their prescriptive right ofcarrying their victims through the routine regularly laid down, and asregularly followed by them, but dragged the unconscious visitor to thevarious objects with a pertinacity that admitted of no appeal,beginning, as a matter of course, with the “Lions’ Den”, the “Hall ofthe Gladiators” and finishing with “Cæsar’s Podium”), to escape a jargonand mechanical survey of the wonders by which he was surrounded, Franzascended a half-dilapidated staircase, and, leaving them to follow theirmonotonous round, seated himself at the foot of a column, andimmediately opposite a large aperture, which permitted him to enjoy afull and undisturbed view of the gigantic dimensions of the majesticruin.
Franz had remained for nearly a quarter of an hour perfectly hidden bythe shadow of the vast column at whose base he had found a resting-place, and from whence his eyes followed the motions of Albert and hisguides, who, holding torches in their hands, had emerged from avomitorium at the opposite extremity of the Colosseum, and then againdisappeared down the steps conducting to the seats reserved for theVestal virgins, resembling, as they glided along, some restless shadesfollowing the flickering glare of so many ignes fatui. All at once hisear caught a sound resembling that of a stone rolling down the staircaseopposite the one by which he had himself ascended. There was nothingremarkable in the circumstance of a fragment of granite giving way andfalling heavily below; but it seemed to him that the substance that fellgave way beneath the pressure of a foot, and also that someone, whoendeavored as much as possible to prevent his footsteps from beingheard, was approaching the spot where he sat.
Conjecture soon became certainty, for the figure of a man was distinctlyvisible to Franz, gradually emerging from the staircase opposite, uponwhich the moon was at that moment pouring a full tide of silverybrightness.
The stranger thus presenting himself was probably a person who, likeFranz, preferred the enjoyment of solitude and his own thoughts to thefrivolous gabble of the guides. And his appearance had nothingextraordinary in it; but the hesitation with which he proceeded,stopping and listening with anxious attention at every step he took,convinced Franz that he expected the arrival of some person.
By a sort of instinctive impulse, Franz withdrew as much as possiblebehind his pillar.
About ten feet from the spot where he and the stranger were, the roofhad given way, leaving a large round opening, through which might beseen the blue vault of heaven, thickly studded with stars.
Around this opening, which had, possibly, for ages permitted a freeentrance to the brilliant moonbeams that now illumined the vast pile,grew a quantity of creeping plants, whose delicate green branches stoodout in bold relief against the clear azure of the firmament, while largemasses of thick, strong fibrous shoots forced their way through thechasm, and hung floating to and fro, like so many waving strings.
The person whose mysterious arrival had attracted the attention of Franzstood in a kind of half-light, that rendered it impossible todistinguish his features, although his dress was easily made out. Hewore a large brown mantle, one fold of which, thrown over his leftshoulder, served likewise to mask the lower part of his countenance,while the upper part was completely hidden by his broad-brimmed hat. Thelower part of his dress was more distinctly visible by the bright raysof the moon, which, entering through the broken ceiling, shed theirrefulgent beams on feet cased in elegantly made boots of polishedleather, over which descended fashionably cut trousers of black cloth.
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From the imperfect means Franz had of judging, he could only come to oneconclusion,—that the person whom he was thus watching certainly belongedto no inferior station
of life.
Some few minutes had elapsed, and the stranger began to show manifestsigns of impatience, when a slight noise was heard outside the aperturein the roof, and almost immediately a dark shadow seemed to obstruct theflood of light that had entered it, and the figure of a man was clearlyseen gazing with eager scrutiny on the immense space beneath him; then,as his eye caught sight of him in the mantle, he grasped a floating massof thickly matted boughs, and glided down by their help to within threeor four feet of the ground, and then leaped lightly on his feet. The manwho had performed this daring act with so much indifference wore theTranstevere costume.
“I beg your excellency’s pardon for keeping you waiting,” said the man,in the Roman dialect, “but I don’t think I’m many minutes after my time,ten o’clock has just struck by the clock of Saint John Lateran.”
“Say not a word about being late,” replied the stranger in purestTuscan; “’tis I who am too soon. But even if you had caused me to wait alittle while, I should have felt quite sure that the delay was notoccasioned by any fault of yours.”
“Your excellency is perfectly right in so thinking,” said the man; “Icame here direct from the Castle of St. Angelo, and I had an immensedeal of trouble before I could get a chance to speak to Beppo.”
“And who is Beppo?”
“Oh, Beppo is employed in the prison, and I give him so much a year tolet me know what is going on within his holiness’s castle.”
“Indeed! You are a provident person, I see.”
“Why, you see, no one knows what may happen. Perhaps some of these daysI may be entrapped, like poor Peppino and may be very glad to have somelittle nibbling mouse to gnaw the meshes of my net, and so help me outof prison.”
“Briefly, what did you learn?”
“That two executions of considerable interest will take place the dayafter tomorrow at two o’clock, as is customary at Rome at thecommencement of all great festivals. One of the culprits will bemazzolato;3 he is an atrocious villain, who murdered the priest whobrought him up, and deserves not the smallest pity. The other suffereris sentenced to be decapitato;4 and he, your excellency, is poorPeppino.”
“The fact is, that you have inspired not only the pontifical government,but also the neighboring states, with such extreme fear, that they areglad of all opportunity of making an example.”
“But Peppino did not even belong to my band; he was merely a poorshepherd, whose only crime consisted in furnishing us with provisions.”
“Which makes him your accomplice to all intents and purposes. But markthe distinction with which he is treated; instead of being knocked onthe head as you would be if once they caught hold of you, he is simplysentenced to be guillotined, by which means, too, the amusements of theday are diversified, and there is a spectacle to please everyspectator.”
“Without reckoning the wholly unexpected one I am preparing to surprisethem with.”
“My good friend,” said the man in the cloak, “excuse me for saying thatyou seem to me precisely in the mood to commit some wild or extravagantact.”
“Perhaps I am; but one thing I have resolved on, and that is, to stop atnothing to restore a poor devil to liberty, who has got into this scrapesolely from having served me. I should hate and despise myself as acoward did I desert the brave fellow in his present extremity.”
“And what do you mean to do?”
“To surround the scaffold with twenty of my best men, who, at a signalfrom me, will rush forward directly Peppino is brought for execution,and, by the assistance of their stilettos, drive back the guard, andcarry off the prisoner.”
“That seems to me as hazardous as uncertain, and convinces me that myscheme is far better than yours.”
“And what is your excellency’s project?”
“Just this. I will so advantageously bestow 2,000 piastres, that theperson receiving them shall obtain a respite till next year for Peppino;and during that year, another skilfully placed 1,000 piastres willafford him the means of escaping from his prison.”
“And do you feel sure of succeeding?”
“Pardieu!” exclaimed the man in the cloak, suddenly expressing himselfin French.
“What did your excellency say?” inquired the other.
“I said, my good fellow, that I would do more single-handed by the meansof gold than you and all your troop could effect with stilettos,pistols, carbines, and blunderbusses included. Leave me, then, to act,and have no fears for the result.”
“At least, there can be no harm in myself and party being in readiness,in case your excellency should fail.”
“None whatever. Take what precautions you please, if it is anysatisfaction to you to do so; but rely upon my obtaining the reprieve Iseek.”
“Remember, the execution is fixed for the day after tomorrow, and thatyou have but one day to work in.”
“And what of that? Is not a day divided into twenty-four hours, eachhour into sixty minutes, and every minute sub-divided into sixtyseconds? Now in 86,400 seconds very many things can be done.”
“And how shall I know whether your excellency has succeeded or not.”
“Oh, that is very easily arranged. I have engaged the three lowerwindows at the Café Rospoli; should I have obtained the requisite pardonfor Peppino, the two outside windows will be hung with yellow damasks,and the centre with white, having a large cross in red marked on it.”
“And whom will you employ to carry the reprieve to the officer directingthe execution?”
“Send one of your men, disguised as a penitent friar, and I will give itto him. His dress will procure him the means of approaching the scaffolditself, and he will deliver the official order to the officer, who, inhis turn, will hand it to the executioner; in the meantime, it will beas well to acquaint Peppino with what we have determined on, if it beonly to prevent his dying of fear or losing his senses, because ineither case a very useless expense will have been incurred.”
“Your excellency,” said the man, “you are fully persuaded of my entiredevotion to you, are you not?”
“Nay, I flatter myself that there can be no doubt of it,” replied thecavalier in the cloak.
“Well, then, only fulfil your promise of rescuing Peppino, andhenceforward you shall receive not only devotion, but the most absoluteobedience from myself and those under me that one human being can renderto another.”
“Have a care how far you pledge yourself, my good friend, for I mayremind you of your promise at some, perhaps, not very distant period,when I, in my turn, may require your aid and influence.”
“Let that day come sooner or later, your excellency will find me what Ihave found you in this my heavy trouble; and if from the other end ofthe world you but write me word to do such or such a thing, you mayregard it as done, for done it shall be, on the word and faith of——”
“Hush!” interrupted the stranger; “I hear a noise.”
“’Tis some travellers, who are visiting the Colosseum by torchlight.”
“’Twere better we should not be seen together; those guides are nothingbut spies, and might possibly recognize you; and, however I may behonored by your friendship, my worthy friend, if once the extent of ourintimacy were known, I am sadly afraid both my reputation and creditwould suffer thereby.”
“Well, then, if you obtain the reprieve?”
“The middle window at the Café Rospoli will be hung with white damask,bearing a red cross.”
“And if you fail?”
“Then all three windows will have yellow draperies.”
“And then?”
“And then, my good fellow, use your daggers in any way you please, and Ifurther promise you to be there as a spectator of your prowess.”
“We understand each other perfectly, then. Adieu, your excellency;depend upon me as firmly as I do upon you.”
Saying these words, the Transteverin disappeared down the staircase,while his companion, muffling his features more closely than before inthe folds of his mantle, passed almos
t close to Franz, and descended tothe arena by an outward flight of steps. The next minute Franz heardhimself called by Albert, who made the lofty building re-echo with thesound of his friend’s name. Franz, however, did not obey the summonstill he had satisfied himself that the two men whose conversation he hadoverheard were at a sufficient distance to prevent his encountering themin his descent. In ten minutes after the strangers had departed, Franzwas on the road to the Piazza di Spagna, listening with studiedindifference to the learned dissertation delivered by Albert, after themanner of Pliny and Calpurnius, touching the iron-pointed nets used toprevent the ferocious beasts from springing on the spectators.
Franz let him proceed without interruption, and, in fact, did not hearwhat was said; he longed to be alone, and free to ponder over all thathad occurred. One of the two men, whose mysterious meeting in theColosseum he had so unintentionally witnessed, was an entire stranger tohim, but not so the other; and though Franz had been unable todistinguish his features, from his being either wrapped in his mantle orobscured by the shadow, the tones of his voice had made too powerful animpression on him the first time he had heard them for him ever again toforget them, hear them when or where he might. It was more especiallywhen this man was speaking in a manner half jesting, half bitter, thatFranz’s ear recalled most vividly the deep sonorous, yet well-pitchedvoice that had addressed him in the grotto of Monte Cristo, and which heheard for the second time amid the darkness and ruined grandeur of theColosseum. And the more he thought, the more entire was his conviction,that the person who wore the mantle was no other than his former hostand entertainer, “Sinbad the Sailor.”
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Under any other circumstances, Franz would have found it impossible toresist his extreme curiosity to know more of so singular a personage,and with that intent have sought to renew their short acquaintance; butin the present instance, the confidential nature of the conversation hehad overheard made him, with propriety, judge that his appearance atsuch a time would be anything but agreeable. As we have seen, therefore,he permitted his former host to retire without attempting a recognition,but fully promising himself a rich indemnity for his present forbearanceshould chance afford him another opportunity.
In vain did Franz endeavor to forget the many perplexing thoughts whichassailed him; in vain did he court the refreshment of sleep. Slumberrefused to visit his eyelids and the night was passed in feverishcontemplation of the chain of circumstances tending to prove theidentity of the mysterious visitant to the Colosseum with the inhabitantof the grotto of Monte Cristo; and the more he thought, the firmer grewhis opinion on the subject.
Worn out at length, he fell asleep at daybreak, and did not awake tilllate. Like a genuine Frenchman, Albert had employed his time inarranging for the evening’s diversion; he had sent to engage a box atthe Teatro Argentina; and Franz, having a number of letters to write,relinquished the carriage to Albert for the whole of the day.
At five o’clock Albert returned, delighted with his day’s work; he hadbeen occupied in leaving his letters of introduction, and had receivedin return more invitations to balls and routs than it would be possiblefor him to accept; besides this, he had seen (as he called it) all theremarkable sights at Rome. Yes, in a single day he had accomplished whathis more serious-minded companion would have taken weeks to effect.Neither had he neglected to ascertain the name of the piece to be playedthat night at the Teatro Argentina, and also what performers appeared init. The opera of Parisina was announced for representation, and theprincipal actors were Coselli, Moriani, and La Specchia.
The young men, therefore, had reason to consider themselves fortunate inhaving the opportunity of hearing one of the best works by the composerof Lucia di Lammermoor, supported by three of the most renownedvocalists of Italy.
Albert had never been able to endure the Italian theatres, with theirorchestras from which it is impossible to see, and the absence ofbalconies, or open boxes; all these defects pressed hard on a man whohad had his stall at the Bouffes, and had shared a lower box at theOpera. Still, in spite of this, Albert displayed his most dazzling andeffective costumes each time he visited the theatres; but, alas, hiselegant toilet was wholly thrown away, and one of the most worthyrepresentatives of Parisian fashion had to carry with him the mortifyingreflection that he had nearly overrun Italy without meeting with asingle adventure.
Sometimes Albert would affect to make a joke of his want of success; butinternally he was deeply wounded, and his self-love immensely piqued, tothink that Albert de Morcerf, the most admired and most sought after ofany young person of his day, should thus be passed over, and merely havehis labor for his pains. And the thing was so much the more annoying,as, according to the characteristic modesty of a Frenchman, Albert hadquitted Paris with the full conviction that he had only to show himselfin Italy to carry all before him, and that upon his return he shouldastonish the Parisian world with the recital of his numerous love-affairs.
Alas, poor Albert! None of those interesting adventures fell in his way;the lovely Genoese, Florentines, and Neapolitans were all faithful, ifnot to their husbands, at least to their lovers, and thought not ofchanging even for the splendid appearance of Albert de Morcerf; and allhe gained was the painful conviction that the ladies of Italy have thisadvantage over those of France, that they are faithful even in theirinfidelity.
Yet he could not restrain a hope that in Italy, as elsewhere, theremight be an exception to the general rule.
Albert, besides being an elegant, well-looking young man, was alsopossessed of considerable talent and ability; moreover, he was aviscount—a recently created one, certainly, but in the present day it isnot necessary to go as far back as Noah in tracing a descent, and agenealogical tree is equally estimated, whether dated from 1399 ormerely 1815; but to crown all these advantages, Albert de Morcerfcommanded an income of 50,000 livres, a more than sufficient sum torender him a personage of considerable importance in Paris. It wastherefore no small mortification to him to have visited most of theprincipal cities in Italy without having excited the most triflingobservation.
Albert, however, hoped to indemnify himself for all these slights andindifferences during the Carnival, knowing full well that among thedifferent states and kingdoms in which this festivity is celebrated,Rome is the spot where even the wisest and gravest throw off the usualrigidity of their lives, and deign to mingle in the follies of this timeof liberty and relaxation. The Carnival was to commence on the morrow;therefore Albert had not an instant to lose in setting forth theprogramme of his hopes, expectations, and claims to notice.
With this design he had engaged a box in the most conspicuous part ofthe theatre, and exerted himself to set off his personal attractions bythe aid of the most rich and elaborate toilet. The box taken by Albertwas in the first circle; although each of the three tiers of boxes isdeemed equally aristocratic, and is, for this reason, generally styledthe “nobility’s boxes,” and although the box engaged for the two friendswas sufficiently capacious to contain at least a dozen persons, it hadcost less than would be paid at some of the French theatres for oneadmitting merely four occupants.
Another motive had influenced Albert’s selection of his seat,—who knewbut that, thus advantageously placed, he might not in truth attract thenotice of some fair Roman, and an introduction might ensue that wouldprocure him the offer of a seat in a carriage, or a place in a princelybalcony, from which he might behold the gayeties of the Carnival?
These united considerations made Albert more lively and anxious toplease than he had hitherto been. Totally disregarding the business ofthe stage, he leaned from his box and began attentively scrutinizing thebeauty of each pretty woman, aided by a powerful opera-glass; but, alas,this attempt to attract notice wholly failed; not even curiosity hadbeen excited, and it was but too apparent that the lovely creatures,into whose good graces he was desirous of stealing, were all so muchengrossed with themselves, their lovers, or their own thoughts, thatthey had not so much as noticed him or the m
anipulation 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 toprevent the least attention being bestowed even on the business of thestage. The actors made their entries and exits unobserved or unthoughtof; at certain conventional moments, the spectators would suddenly ceasetheir conversation, or rouse themselves from their musings, to listen tosome brilliant effort of Moriani’s, a well-executed recitative byCoselli, or to join in loud applause at the wonderful powers of LaSpecchia; but that momentary excitement over, they quickly relapsed intotheir former state of preoccupation or interesting conversation.
Towards the close of the first act, the door of a box which had beenhitherto vacant was opened; a lady entered to whom Franz had beenintroduced in Paris, where indeed, he had imagined she still was. Thequick eye of Albert caught the involuntary start with which his friendbeheld 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 magnificenthair! 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 asmuch wit and cleverness as beauty. I was to have been presented to herwhen 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 toventure to take me to her box?”
“Why, I have only had the honor of being in her society and conversingwith her three or four times in my life; but you know that even such anacquaintance as that might warrant my doing what you ask.”
At that instant, the countess perceived Franz, and graciously waved herhand to him, to which he replied by a respectful inclination of thehead. “Upon my word,” said Albert, “you seem to be on excellent termswith the beautiful countess.”
“You are mistaken in thinking so,” returned Franz calmly; “but youmerely fall into the same error which leads so many of our countrymen tocommit the most egregious blunders,—I mean that of judging the habitsand customs of Italy and Spain by our Parisian notions; believe me,nothing is more fallacious than to form any estimate of the degree ofintimacy you may suppose existing among persons by the familiar termsthey seem upon; there is a similarity of feeling at this instant betweenourselves and the countess—nothing more.”
“Is there, indeed, my good fellow? Pray tell me, is it sympathy ofheart?”
“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, bymoonlight, 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 isa glorious monument!”
“Upon my word,” cried Albert, “you must have been a very entertainingcompanion alone, or all but alone, with a beautiful woman in such aplace of sentiment as the Colosseum, and yet to find nothing better totalk about than the dead! All I can say is, if ever I should get such achance, the living should be my theme.”
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“And you will probably find your theme ill-chosen.”
“But,” said Albert, breaking in upon his discourse, “never mind thepast; let us only remember the present. Are you not going to keep yourpromise of introducing me to the fair subject of our remarks?”
“Certainly, directly the curtain falls on the stage.”
“What a confounded long time this first act lasts. I believe, on mysoul, that they never mean to finish it.”
“Oh, yes, they will; only listen to that charming finale. Howexquisitely 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 anythingmore perfect than her acting?”
“Why, you know, my dear fellow, when one has been accustomed to Malibranand Sontag, such singers as these don’t make the same impression on youthey 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 avoice like a woman’s.”
“My good friend,” said Franz, turning to him, while Albert continued topoint his glass at every box in the theatre, “you seem determined not toapprove; you are really too difficult to please.”
The curtain at length fell on the performances, to the infinitesatisfaction of the Viscount of Morcerf, who seized his hat, rapidlypassed 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 agracious smile in token that he would be welcome, sought not to retardthe gratification of Albert’s eager impatience, but began at once thetour of the house, closely followed by Albert, who availed himself ofthe few minutes required to reach the opposite side of the theatre tosettle the height and smoothness of his collar, and to arrange thelappets of his coat. This important task was just completed as theyarrived at the countess’s box.
At the knock, the door was immediately opened, and the young man who wasseated 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 theday, both as regarded his position in society and extraordinary talents;nor did he say more than the truth, for in Paris and the circle in whichthe viscount moved, he was looked upon and cited as a model ofperfection. Franz added that his companion, deeply grieved at havingbeen prevented the honor of being presented to the countess during hersojourn in Paris, was most anxious to make up for it, and had requestedhim (Franz) to remedy the past misfortune by conducting him to her box,and concluded by asking pardon for his presumption in having taken itupon himself to do so.
The countess, in reply, bowed gracefully to Albert, and extended herhand with cordial kindness to Franz; then, inviting Albert to take thevacant seat beside her, she recommended Franz to take the next best, ifhe wished to view the ballet, and pointed to the one behind her ownchair.
Albert was soon deeply engrossed in discoursing upon Paris and Parisianmatters, speaking to the countess of the various persons they both knewthere. Franz perceived how completely he was in his element; and,unwilling to interfere with the pleasure he so evidently felt, took upAlbert’s glass, and began in his turn to survey the audience.
Sitting alone, in the front of a box immediately opposite, but situatedon the third row, was a woman of exquisite beauty, dressed in a Greekcostume, which evidently, from the ease and grace with which she woreit, was her national attire. Behind her, but in deep shadow, was theoutline of a masculine figure; but the features of this latter personageit was not possible to distinguish. Franz could not forbear breaking inupon the apparently interesting conversation passing between thecountess and Albert, to inquire of the former if she knew who was thefair Albanian opposite, since beauty such as hers was well worthy ofbeing observed by either sex.
“All I can tell about her,” replied the countess, “is, that she has beenat Rome since the beginning of the season; for I saw her where she nowsits the very first night of the season, and since then she has nevermissed a performance. Sometimes she is accompanied by the person who isnow with her, and at others she is merely attended by a black servant.”
“And what do you think of her personal appearance?”
“Oh, I consider her perfectly
lovely—she is just my idea of what Medoramust have been.”
Franz and the countess exchanged a smile, and then the latter resumedher conversation with Albert, while Franz returned to his previoussurvey of the house and company. The curtain rose on the ballet, whichwas one of those excellent specimens of the Italian school, admirablyarranged and put on the stage by Henri, who has established for himselfa great reputation throughout Italy for his taste and skill in thechoreographic art—one of those masterly productions of grace, method,and elegance in which the whole corps de ballet, from the principaldancers to the humblest supernumerary, are all engaged on the stage atthe same time; and a hundred and fifty persons may be seen exhibitingthe same attitude, or elevating the same arm or leg with a simultaneousmovement, that would lead you to suppose that but one mind, one act ofvolition, influenced the moving mass.
The ballet was called Poliska.
However much the ballet might have claimed his attention, Franz was toodeeply occupied with the beautiful Greek to take any note of it; whileshe seemed to experience an almost childlike delight in watching it, hereager, animated looks contrasting strongly with the utter indifferenceof her companion, who, during the whole time the piece lasted, nevereven moved, not even when the furious, crashing din produced by thetrumpets, cymbals, and Chinese bells sounded their loudest from theorchestra. Of this he took no heed, but was, as far as appearances mightbe trusted, enjoying soft repose and bright celestial dreams.
The ballet at length came to a close, and the curtain fell amid theloud, unanimous plaudits of an enthusiastic and delighted audience.
Owing to the very judicious plan of dividing the two acts of the operawith a ballet, the pauses between the performances are very short, thesingers in the opera having time to repose themselves and change theircostume, when necessary, while the dancers are executing theirpirouettes and exhibiting their graceful steps.
The overture to the second act began; and, at the first sound of theleader’s bow across his violin, Franz observed the sleeper slowly ariseand approach the Greek girl, who turned around to say a few words tohim, and then, leaning forward again on the railing of her box, shebecame as absorbed as before in what was going on.
The countenance of the person who had addressed her remained socompletely in the shade, that, though Franz tried his utmost, he couldnot distinguish a single feature. The curtain rose, and the attention ofFranz was attracted by the actors; and his eyes turned from the boxcontaining the Greek girl and her strange companion to watch thebusiness of the stage.
Most of my readers are aware that the second act of Parisina opens withthe celebrated and effective duet in which Parisina, while sleeping,betrays to Azzo the secret of her love for Ugo. The injured husband goesthrough all the emotions of jealousy, until conviction seizes on hismind, and then, in a frenzy of rage and indignation, he awakens hisguilty wife to tell her that he knows her guilt and to threaten her withhis vengeance.
This duet is one of the most beautiful, expressive and terribleconceptions that has ever emanated from the fruitful pen of Donizetti.Franz now listened to it for the third time; yet its notes, so tenderlyexpressive and fearfully grand as the wretched husband and wife givevent to their different griefs and passions, thrilled through the soulof Franz with an effect equal to his first emotions upon hearing it.Excited beyond his usual calm demeanor, Franz rose with the audience,and was about to join the loud, enthusiastic applause that followed; butsuddenly his purpose was arrested, his hands fell by his sides, and thehalf-uttered “bravos” expired on his lips.
The occupant of the box in which the Greek girl sat appeared to sharethe universal admiration that prevailed; for he left his seat to standup in front, so that, his countenance being fully revealed, Franz had nodifficulty in recognizing him as the mysterious inhabitant of MonteCristo, and the very same person he had encountered the precedingevening in the ruins of the Colosseum, and whose voice and figure hadseemed so familiar to him.
All doubt of his identity was now at an end; his singular host evidentlyresided at Rome. The surprise and agitation occasioned by this fullconfirmation of Franz’s former suspicion had no doubt imparted acorresponding expression to his features; for the countess, after gazingwith a puzzled look at his face, burst into a fit of laughter, andbegged to know what had happened.
“Countess,” returned Franz, totally unheeding her raillery, “I asked youa short time since if you knew any particulars respecting the Albanianlady opposite; I must now beseech you to inform me who and what is herhusband?”
“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 haveeyes only for the man we love?”
“True,” replied Franz.
“All I can say is,” continued the countess, taking up the lorgnette, anddirecting it toward the box in question, “that the gentleman, whosehistory I am unable to furnish, seems to me as though he had just beendug 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.
“Then you know him?” almost screamed the countess. “Oh, pray do, forheaven’s sake, tell us all about—is he a vampire, or a resuscitatedcorpse, 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 herbeautiful shoulders, as though an involuntary shudder passed through herveins, “that those who have once seen that man will never be likely toforget him.”
The sensation experienced by Franz was evidently not peculiar tohimself; another, and wholly uninterested person, felt the sameunaccountable awe and misgiving.
“Well.” inquired Franz, after the countess had a second time directedher lorgnette at the box, “what do you think of our opposite neighbor?”
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“Why, that he is no other than Lord Ruthven himself in a living form.”
This fresh allusion to Byron5 drew a smile to Franz’s countenance;although he could but allow that if anything was likely to induce beliefin the existence of vampires, it would be the presence of such a man asthe mysterious personage before him.
“I must positively find out who and what he is,” said Franz, rising fromhis seat.
“No, no,” cried the countess; “you must not leave me. I depend upon youto escort me home. Oh, indeed, I cannot permit you to go.”
“Is it possible,” whispered Franz, “that you entertain any fear?”
“I’ll tell you,” answered the countess. “Byron had the most perfectbelief in the existence of vampires, and even assured me that he hadseen them. The description he gave me perfectly corresponds with thefeatures and character of the man before us. Oh, he is the exactpersonification of what I have been led to expect! The coal-black hair,large bright, glittering eyes, in which a wild, unearthly fire seemsburning,—the same ghastly paleness. Then observe, too, that the womanwith him is altogether unlike all others of her sex. She is aforeigner—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, likehimself, a dealer in magical arts. I entreat of you not to go nearhim—at least tonight; and if tomorrow your curiosity still continues asgreat, pursue your researches if you will; but tonight you neither cannor 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. Iam going home. I have a party at my house tonight, and therefore cannotpossibly remain till the end of the opera. Now, I cannot for one instantbelieve you so devoid of gallantry as to refuse a lady your escort whenshe even condescends to ask you for it.”
&
nbsp; There was nothing else left for Franz to do but to take up his hat, openthe door of the box, and offer the countess his arm. It was quiteevident, by her manner, that her uneasiness was not feigned; and Franzhimself could not resist a feeling of superstitious dread—so much thestronger in him, as it arose from a variety of corroborativerecollections, while the terror of the countess sprang from aninstinctive belief, originally created in her mind by the wild tales shehad listened to till she believed them truths. Franz could even feel herarm tremble as he assisted her into the carriage. Upon arriving at herhotel, Franz perceived that she had deceived him when she spoke ofexpecting company; on the contrary, her own return before the appointedhour seemed greatly to astonish the servants.
“Excuse my little subterfuge,” said the countess, in reply to hercompanion’s half-reproachful observation on the subject; “but thathorrid man had made me feel quite uncomfortable, and I longed to bealone, that I might compose my startled mind.”
Franz essayed to smile.
“Nay,” said she, “do not smile; it ill accords with the expression ofyour countenance, and I am sure it does not spring from your heart.However, promise me one thing.”
“What is it?”
“Promise me, I say.”
“I will do anything you desire, except relinquish my determination offinding out who this man is. I have more reasons than you can imaginefor desiring to know who he is, from whence he came, and whither he isgoing.”
“Where he comes from I am ignorant; but I can readily tell you where heis going to, and that is down below, without the least doubt.”
“Let us only speak of the promise you wished me to make,” said Franz.
“Well, then, you must give me your word to return immediately to yourhotel, and make no attempt to follow this man tonight. There are certainaffinities between the persons we quit and those we meet afterwards. Forheaven’s sake, do not serve as a conductor between that man and me.Pursue your chase after him tomorrow as eagerly as you please; but neverbring him near me, if you would not see me die of terror. And now, good-night; go to your rooms, and try to sleep away all recollections of thisevening. For my own part, I am quite sure I shall not be able to closemy eyes.”
So saying, the countess quitted Franz, leaving him unable to decidewhether she were merely amusing herself at his expense, or whether herfears and agitations were genuine.
Upon his return to the hotel, Franz found Albert in his dressing-gownand slippers, listlessly extended on a sofa, smoking a cigar.
“My dear fellow!” cried he, springing up, “is it really you? Why, I didnot expect to see you before tomorrow.”
“My dear Albert,” replied Franz, “I am glad of this opportunity to tellyou, once and forever, that you entertain a most erroneous notionconcerning Italian women. I should have thought the continual failuresyou have met with in all your own love affairs might have taught youbetter by this time.”
“Upon my soul, these women would puzzle the very Devil to read themaright. Why, here—they give you their hand—they press yours inreturn—they keep up a whispering conversation—permit you to accompanythem home. Why, if a Parisian were to indulge in a quarter of thesemarks of flattering attention, her reputation would be gone forever.”
“And the very reason why the women of this fine country, ‘where soundsthe si,’ as Dante writes, put so little restraint on their words andactions, is because they live so much in public, and have really nothingto conceal. Besides, you must have perceived that the countess wasreally alarmed.”
“At what? At the sight of that respectable gentleman sitting opposite tous in the same box with the lovely Greek girl? Now, for my part, I metthem in the lobby after the conclusion of the piece; and hang me, if Ican guess where you took your notions of the other world from. I canassure you that this hobgoblin of yours is a deuced fine-lookingfellow—admirably dressed. Indeed, I feel quite sure, from the cut of hisclothes, they are made by a first-rate Paris tailor—probably Blin orHumann. He was rather too pale, certainly; but then, you know, palenessis always looked upon as a strong proof of aristocratic descent anddistinguished breeding.”
Franz smiled; for he well remembered that Albert particularly pridedhimself on the entire absence of color in his own complexion.
“Well, that tends to confirm my own ideas,” said Franz, “that thecountess’s suspicions were destitute alike of sense and reason. Did hespeak in your hearing? and did you catch any of his words?”
“I did; but they were uttered in the Romaic dialect. I knew that fromthe mixture of Greek words. I don’t know whether I ever told you thatwhen I was at college I was rather—rather strong in Greek.”
“He spoke the Romaic language, did he?”
“I think so.”
“That settles it,” murmured Franz. “’Tis he, past all doubt.”
“What do you say?”
“Nothing, nothing. But tell me, what were you thinking about when I camein?”
“Oh, I was arranging a little surprise for you.”
“Indeed. Of what nature?”
“Why, you know it is quite impossible to procure a carriage.”
“Certainly; and I also know that we have done all that human meansafforded to endeavor to get one.”
“Now, then, in this difficulty a bright idea has flashed across mybrain.”
Franz looked at Albert as though he had not much confidence in thesuggestions of his imagination.
“I tell you what, M. Franz,” cried Albert, “you deserve to be called outfor such a misgiving and incredulous glance as that you were pleased tobestow on me just now.”
“And I promise to give you the satisfaction of a gentleman if yourscheme turns out as ingenious as you assert.”
“Well, then, hearken to me.”
“I listen.”
“You agree, do you not, that obtaining a carriage is out of thequestion?”
“I do.”
“Neither can we procure horses?”
“True; we have offered any sum, but have failed.”
“Well, now, what do you say to a cart? I dare say such a thing might behad.”
“Very possibly.”
“And a pair of oxen?”
“As easily found as the cart.”
“Then you see, my good fellow, with a cart and a couple of oxen ourbusiness can be managed. The cart must be tastefully ornamented; and ifyou and I dress ourselves as Neapolitan reapers, we may get up astriking tableau, after the manner of that splendid picture by LéopoldRobert. It would add greatly to the effect if the countess would join usin the costume of a peasant from Puzzoli or Sorrento. Our group wouldthen be quite complete, more especially as the countess is quitebeautiful enough to represent a Madonna.”
“Well,” said Franz, “this time, M. Albert, I am bound to give you creditfor having hit upon a most capital idea.”
“And quite a national one, too,” replied Albert with gratified pride. “Amere masque borrowed from our own festivities. Ha, ha, ye Romans! youthought to make us, unhappy strangers, trot at the heels of yourprocessions, like so many lazzaroni, because no carriages or horses areto be had in your beggarly city. But you don’t know us; when we can’thave one thing we invent another.”
“And have you communicated your triumphant idea to anybody?”
“Only to our host. Upon my return home I sent for him, and I thenexplained to him what I wished to procure. He assured me that nothingwould be easier than to furnish all I desired. One thing I was sorryfor; when I bade him have the horns of the oxen gilded, he told me therewould not be time, as it would require three days to do that; so you seewe must do without this little superfluity.”
“And where is he now?”
“Who?”
“Our host.”
“Gone out in search of our equipage, by tomorrow it might be too late.”
“Then he will be able to give us an answer tonight.”
“Oh, I expect him every minute.”
At this instant
the door opened, and the head of Signor Pastriniappeared. “Permesso?” inquired he.
“Certainly—certainly,” cried Franz. “Come in, my host.”
“Now, then,” asked Albert eagerly, “have you found the desired cart andoxen?”
“Better than that!” replied Signor Pastrini, with the air of a manperfectly well satisfied with himself.
“Take care, my worthy host,” said Albert, “better is a sure enemy towell.”
“Let your excellencies only leave the matter to me,” returned SignorPastrini in a tone indicative of unbounded self-confidence.
“But what have you done?” asked Franz. “Speak out, there’s a worthyfellow.”
“Your excellencies are aware,” responded the landlord, swelling withimportance, “that the Count of Monte Cristo is living on the same floorwith yourselves!”
“I should think we did know it,” exclaimed Albert, “since it is owing tothat circumstance that we are packed into these small rooms, like twopoor students in the back streets of Paris.”
“When, then, the Count of Monte Cristo, hearing of the dilemma in whichyou are placed, has sent to offer you seats in his carriage and twoplaces at his windows in the Palazzo Rospoli.” The friends looked ateach other with unutterable surprise.
“But do you think,” asked Albert, “that we ought to accept such offersfrom a perfect stranger?”
“What sort of person is this Count of Monte Cristo?” asked Franz of hishost.
“A very great nobleman, but whether Maltese or Sicilian I cannot exactlysay; but this I know, that he is noble as a Borghese and rich as a goldmine.”
“It seems to me,” said Franz, speaking in an undertone to Albert, “thatif this person merited the high panegyrics of our landlord, he wouldhave conveyed his invitation through another channel, and not permittedit to be brought to us in this unceremonious way. He would havewritten—or——”
At this instant someone knocked at the door.
“Come in,” said Franz.
A servant, wearing a livery of considerable style and richness, appearedat the threshold, and, placing two cards in the landlord’s hands, whoforthwith presented them to the two young men, he said:
“Please to deliver these, from the Count of Monte Cristo to VicomteAlbert de Morcerf and M. Franz d’Épinay. The Count of Monte Cristo,”continued the servant, “begs these gentlemen’s permission to wait uponthem as their neighbor, and he will be honored by an intimation of whattime they will please to receive him.”
“Faith, Franz,” whispered Albert, “there is not much to find fault withhere.”
“Tell the count,” replied Franz, “that we will do ourselves the pleasureof calling on him.”
The servant bowed and retired.
“That is what I call an elegant mode of attack,” said Albert, “You werequite correct in what you said, Signor Pastrini. The Count of MonteCristo is unquestionably a man of first-rate breeding and knowledge ofthe world.”
“Then you accept his offer?” said the host.
“Of course we do,” replied Albert. “Still, I must own I am sorry to beobliged to give up the cart and the group of reapers—it would haveproduced such an effect! And were it not for the windows at the PalazzoRospoli, by way of recompense for the loss of our beautiful scheme, Idon’t know but what I should have held on by my original plan. What sayyou, Franz?”
“Oh, I agree with you; the windows in the Palazzo Rospoli alone decidedme.”
The truth was, that the mention of two places in the Palazzo Rospoli hadrecalled to Franz the conversation he had overheard the precedingevening in the ruins of the Colosseum between the mysterious unknown andthe Transteverin, in which the stranger in the cloak had undertaken toobtain the freedom of a condemned criminal; and if this muffled-upindividual proved (as Franz felt sure he would) the same as the personhe had just seen in the Teatro Argentina, then he should be able toestablish his identity, and also to prosecute his researches respectinghim with perfect facility and freedom.
Franz passed the night in confused dreams respecting the two meetings hehad already had with his mysterious tormentor, and in wakingspeculations as to what the morrow would produce. The next day mustclear up every doubt; and unless his near neighbor and would-be friend,the Count of Monte Cristo, possessed the ring of Gyges, and by its powerwas able to render himself invisible, it was very certain he could notescape this time.
Eight o’clock found Franz up and dressed, while Albert, who had not thesame motives for early rising, was still soundly asleep. The first actof Franz was to summon his landlord, who presented himself with hisaccustomed obsequiousness.
“Pray, Signor Pastrini,” asked Franz, “is not some execution appointedto take place today?”
“Yes, your excellency; but if your reason for inquiry is that you mayprocure a window to view it from, you are much too late.”
“Oh, no,” answered Franz, “I had no such intention; and even if I hadfelt a wish to witness the spectacle, I might have done so from MontePincio; could I not?”
“Ah!” exclaimed mine host, “I did not think it likely your excellencywould have chosen to mingle with such a rabble as are always collectedon that hill, which, indeed, they consider as exclusively belonging tothemselves.”
“Very possibly I may not go,” answered Franz; “but in case I feeldisposed, give me some particulars of today’s executions.”
“What particulars would your excellency like to hear?”
“Why, the number of persons condemned to suffer, their names, anddescription of the death they are to die.”
“That happens just lucky, your excellency! Only a few minutes ago theybrought me the tavolettas.”
“What are they?”
“Sort of wooden tablets hung up at the corners of streets the eveningbefore an execution, on which is pasted up a paper containing the namesof the condemned persons, their crimes, and mode of punishment. Thereason for so publicly announcing all this is, that all good andfaithful Catholics may offer up their prayers for the unfortunateculprits, and, above all, beseech of Heaven to grant them a sincererepentance.”
“And these tablets are brought to you that you may add your prayers tothose of the faithful, are they?” asked Franz somewhat incredulously.
“Oh, dear, no, your excellency! I have not time for anybody’s affairsbut my own and those of my honorable guests; but I make an agreementwith the man who pastes up the papers, and he brings them to me as hewould the playbills, that in case any person staying at my hotel shouldlike to witness an execution, he may obtain every requisite informationconcerning the time and place etc.”
“Upon my word, that is a most delicate attention on your part, SignorPastrini,” cried Franz.
“Why, your excellency,” returned the landlord, chuckling and rubbing hishands with infinite complacency, “I think I may take upon myself to sayI neglect nothing to deserve the support and patronage of the noblevisitors to this poor hotel.”
“I see that plainly enough, my most excellent host, and you may relyupon me to proclaim so striking a proof of your attention to your guestswherever I go. Meanwhile, oblige me by a sight of one of thesetavolettas.”
“Nothing can be easier than to comply with your excellency’s wish,” saidthe landlord, opening the door of the chamber; “I have caused one to beplaced on the landing, close by your apartment.”
Then, taking the tablet from the wall, he handed it to Franz, who readas follows:
“‘The public is informed that on Wednesday, February 23rd, being thefirst day of the Carnival, executions will take place in the Piazza delPopolo, by order of the Tribunal of the Rota, of two persons, namedAndrea Rondolo, and Peppino, otherwise called Rocca Priori; the formerfound guilty of the murder of a venerable and exemplary priest, namedDon César Torlini, canon of the church of St. John Lateran; and thelatter convicted of being an accomplice of the atrocious and sanguinarybandit, Luigi Vampa, and his band. The first-named malefactor will bemazzolato, the second culprit
decapitato.
“‘The prayers of all good Christians are entreated for these unfortunatemen, that it may please God to awaken them to a sense of their guilt,and to grant them a hearty and sincere repentance for their crimes.’”
This was precisely what Franz had heard the evening before in the ruinsof the Colosseum. No part of the programme differed,—the names of thecondemned persons, their crimes, and mode of punishment, all agreed withhis previous information. In all probability, therefore, theTransteverin was no other than the bandit Luigi Vampa himself, and theman shrouded in the mantle the same he had known as “Sinbad the Sailor,”but who, no doubt, was still pursuing his philanthropic expedition inRome, as he had already done at Porto-Vecchio and Tunis.
Time was getting on, however, and Franz deemed it advisable to awakenAlbert; but at the moment he prepared to proceed to his chamber, hisfriend entered the room in perfect costume for the day. The anticipateddelights of the Carnival had so run in his head as to make him leave hispillow long before his usual hour.
“Now, my excellent Signor Pastrini,” said Franz, addressing hislandlord, “since we are both ready, do you think we may proceed at onceto visit the Count of Monte Cristo?”
“Most assuredly,” replied he. “The Count of Monte Cristo is always anearly riser; and I can answer for his having been up these two hours.”
“Then you really consider we shall not be intruding if we pay ourrespects to him directly?”
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“Oh, I am quite sure. I will take all the blame on myself if you find Ihave led you into an error.”
“Well, then, if it be so, are you ready, Albert?”
“Perfectly.”
“Let us go and return our best thanks for his courtesy.”
“Yes, let us do so.”
The landlord preceded the friends across the landing, which was all thatseparated them from the apartments of the count, rang at the bell, and,upon the door being opened by a servant, said:
“I signori Francesi.”
The domestic bowed respectfully, and invited them to enter. They passedthrough two rooms, furnished in a luxurious manner they had not expectedto see under the roof of Signor Pastrini, and were shown into anelegantly fitted-up drawing-room. The richest Turkey carpets covered thefloor, and the softest and most inviting couches, easy-chairs, andsofas, offered their high-piled and yielding cushions to such as desiredrepose or refreshment. Splendid paintings by the first masters wereranged against the walls, intermingled with magnificent trophies of war,while heavy curtains of costly tapestry were suspended before thedifferent doors of the room.
“If your excellencies will please to be seated,” said the man, “I willlet the count know that you are here.”
And with these words he disappeared behind one of the tapestriedportières. As the door opened, the sound of a guzla reached the ears ofthe young men, but was almost immediately lost, for the rapid closing ofthe door merely allowed one rich swell of harmony to enter. Franz andAlbert looked inquiringly at each other, then at the gorgeousfurnishings of the apartment. Everything seemed more magnificent at asecond view than it had done at their first rapid survey.
“Well,” said Franz to his friend, “what think you of all this?”
“Why, upon my soul, my dear fellow, it strikes me that our elegant andattentive neighbor must either be some successful stock-jobber who hasspeculated in the fall of the Spanish funds, or some prince travellingincog.”
“Hush, hush!” replied Franz; “we shall ascertain who and what he is—hecomes!”
As Franz spoke, he heard the sound of a door turning on its hinges, andalmost immediately afterwards the tapestry was drawn aside, and theowner of all these riches stood before the two young men. Albertinstantly rose to meet him, but Franz remained, in a manner, spellboundon his chair; for in the person of him who had just entered herecognized not only the mysterious visitant to the Colosseum, and theoccupant of the box at the Teatro Argentina, but also his extraordinaryhost of Monte Cristo.
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The Count of Monte Cristo, Illustrated Page 35