Glyndon was transported with a young man's passion and a young man's pride: — "This glorious creature," thought he, "may yet be mine."
He felt, while thus wrapt in delicious reverie, a slight touch upon his shoulder: he turned, and beheld Zanoni. "You are in danger," said the latter. "Do not walk home to-night; or if you do, go not alone."
Before Glyndon recovered from his surprise, Zanoni disappeared; and when the Englishman saw him again, he was in the box of one of the Neapolitan nobles, where Glyndon could not follow him.
Viola now left the stage, and Glyndon accosted her with an unaccustomed warmth of gallantry. But Viola, contrary to her gentle habit, turned with an evident impatience from the address of her lover. Taking aside Gionetta, who was her constant attendant at the theatre, she said, in an earnest whisper —
"Oh, Gionetta! He is here again! — the stranger of whom I spoke to thee! — and again, he alone, of the whole theatre, withholds from me his applause."
"Which is he, my darling? " said the old woman, with fondness in her voice. "He must indeed be dull — not worth a thought."
The actress drew Gionetta nearer to the stage, and pointed out to her a man in one of the boxes, conspicuous amongst all else by the simplicity of his dress, and the extraordinary beauty of his features.
"Not worth a thought, Gionetta!" repeated Viola — "not worth a thought! Alas, not to think of him, seems the absence of thought itself!"
