The Count of Monte Cristo

N his whole life, perhaps, Franz had never before experienced so sudden an impression, so rapid a transition from gayety to sadness, as in this moment. It seemed as though Rome, under the magic breath of some demon of the night, had suddenly changed into a vast tomb. By a chance, which added yet more to the intensity of the darkness, the moon, which was on the wane, did not rise until eleven o’clock, and the streets which the young man traversed were plunged in the deepest obscurity. The distance was short, and at the end of ten minutes his carriage, or rather the count’s, stopped before the Hôtel de Londres. Dinner was waiting, but as Albert had told him that he should not return so soon, Franz sat down without him. Signor Pastrini, who had been accustomed to see them dine together, inquired into the cause of his absence, but Franz merely replied that Albert had received on the previous evening an invitation which he had accepted. The sudden extinction of the _moccoletti_, the darkness which had replaced the light, and the silence which had succeeded the turmoil, had left in Franz’s mind a certain depression which was not free from uneasiness. He therefore dined very silently, in spite of the officious attention of his host, who presented himself two or three times to inquire if he wanted anything. Franz resolved to wait for Albert as late as possible. He ordered the carriage, therefore, for eleven o’clock, desiring Signor Pastrini to inform him the moment that Albert returned to the hotel. At eleven o’clock Albert had not come back. Franz dressed himself, and went out, telling his host that he was going to pass the night at the Duke of Bracciano’s. The house of the Duke of Bracciano is one of the most delightful in Rome, the duchess, one of the last heiresses of the Colonnas, does its honors with the most consummate grace, and thus their _fêtes_ have a European celebrity. Franz and Albert had brought to Rome letters of introduction to them, and their first question on his arrival was to inquire the whereabouts of his travelling companion. Franz replied that he had left him at the moment they were about to extinguish the _moccoli_, and that he had lost sight of him in the Via Macello. “Then he has not returned?” said the duke. “I waited for him until this hour,” replied Franz. “And do you know whither he went?” “No, not precisely; however, I think it was something very like a rendezvous.” “_Diavolo!_” said the duke, “this is a bad day, or rather a bad night, to be out late; is it not, countess?” These words were addressed to the Countess G——, who had just arrived, and was leaning on the arm of Signor Torlonia, the duke’s brother. “I think, on the contrary, that it is a charming night,” replied the countess, “and those who are here will complain of but one thing, that of...