Greek, who turned round to say a few words to him, and then leaned forward again on her box.
The countenance of the person who had addressed her remained so completely in the shade that Franz could not distinguish a single feature.
The curtain drew up, and the attention of Franz was attracted by the actors; and his eyes quitted their gaze at the box containing the fair Greek, to watch the stage.
The second act of "Parisina" opens with the duet of the dream, in which Parisina, while sleeping, betrays to Azzo the secret of her love for Ugo. The injured husband goes through all the workings of jealousy, until, conviction seizing on his mind, he awakens her to announce his vengeance.
This duet is one of the finest, most expressive, and most terrible conceptions that has ever emanated from the fruitful pen of Donizetti. Franz now listened to it for the third time; yet its notes produced a profound effect. He rose to join the applause that followed; but suddenly 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 left his seat to stand up in the 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 man whose voice and figure had seemed so familiar to him the preceding evening in the ruins of the Colosseum.
All doubt was now at an end; his singular host evidently resided at Rome. The agitation of his mind no doubt imparted a corresponding expression to his features; for the countess, after gazing with a puzzled look, burst into a fit of laughter, and begged to know what had happened.
"Madame la Comtesse," returned Franz, "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 her."
"Perhaps you never before remarked 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," continued the countess, taking up the opera-glass and directing it to the box in question, "is, that the gentleman seems to me just dug up; a corpse permitted by some grave-digger to quit his tomb for a while. How ghastly pale he is!"
"Oh, he is always as colorless as you now see him," said Franz.
"Then you know him?" asked the countess. "Now it is my turn to ask who he is!"
"I fancy I have seen him before; and I even think he recognizes me."
