Chapter 36. The Carnival at Rome
When Franz recovered his senses, he saw Albert drinking a glass ofwater, of which, to judge from his pallor, he stood in great need; andthe count, who was assuming his masquerade costume. He glancedmechanically towards the piazza—the scene was wholly changed; scaffold,executioners, victims, all had disappeared; only the people remained,full of noise and excitement. The bell of Monte Citorio, which onlysounds on the pope’s decease and the opening of the Carnival, wasringing a joyous peal.
“Well,” asked he of the count, “what has, then, happened?”
“Nothing,” replied the count; “only, as you see, the Carnival hascommenced. Make haste and dress yourself.”
“In fact,” said Franz, “this horrible scene has passed away like adream.”
“It is but a dream, a nightmare, that has disturbed you.”
“Yes, that I have suffered; but the culprit?”
“That is a dream also; only he has remained asleep, while you haveawakened; and who knows which of you is the most fortunate?”
“But Peppino—what has become of him?”
“Peppino is a lad of sense, who, unlike most men, who are happy inproportion as they are noticed, was delighted to see that the generalattention was directed towards his companion. He profited by thisdistraction to slip away among the crowd, without even thanking theworthy priests who accompanied him. Decidedly man is an ungrateful andegotistical animal. But dress yourself; see, M. de Morcerf sets you theexample.”
Albert was drawing on the satin pantaloon over his black trousers andvarnished boots.
“Well, Albert,” said Franz, “do you feel much inclined to join therevels? Come, answer frankly.”
“Ma foi, no,” returned Albert. “But I am really glad to have seen such asight; and I understand what the count said—that when you have oncehabituated yourself to a similar spectacle, it is the only one thatcauses you any emotion.”
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“Without reflecting that this is the only moment in which you can studycharacter,” said the count; “on the steps of the scaffold death tearsoff the mask that has been worn through life, and the real visage isdisclosed. It must be allowed that Andrea was not very handsome, thehideous scoundrel! Come, dress yourselves, gentlemen, dress yourselves.”
Franz felt it would be ridiculous not to follow his two companions’example. He assumed his costume, and fastened on the mask that scarcelyequalled the pallor of his own face. Their toilet finished, theydescended; the carriage awaited them at the door, filled with sweetmeatsand bouquets. They fell into the line of carriages.
It is difficult to form an idea of the perfect change that had takenplace. Instead of the spectacle of gloomy and silent death, the Piazzadel Popolo presented a spectacle of gay and noisy mirth and revelry. Acrowd of masks flowed in from all sides, emerging from the doors,descending from the windows. From every street and every corner drovecarriages filled with clowns, harlequins, dominoes, mummers,pantomimists, Transteverins, knights, and peasants, screaming, fighting,gesticulating, throwing eggs filled with flour, confetti, nosegays,attacking, with their sarcasms and their missiles, friends and foes,companions and strangers, indiscriminately, and no one took offence, ordid anything but laugh.
Franz and Albert were like men who, to drive away a violent sorrow, haverecourse to wine, and who, as they drink and become intoxicated, feel athick veil drawn between the past and the present. They saw, or rathercontinued to see, the image of what they had witnessed; but little bylittle the general vertigo seized them, and they felt themselves obligedto take part in the noise and confusion.
A handful of confetti that came from a neighboring carriage, and which,while it covered Morcerf and his two companions with dust, pricked hisneck and that portion of his face uncovered by his mask like a hundredpins, incited him to join in the general combat, in which all the masksaround him were engaged. He rose in his turn, and seizing handfuls ofconfetti and sweetmeats, with which the carriage was filled, cast themwith all the force and skill he was master of.
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The strife had fairly begun, and the recollection of what they had seenhalf an hour before was gradually effaced from the young men’s minds, somuch were they occupied by the gay and glittering procession they nowbeheld.
As for the Count of Monte Cristo, he had never for an instant shown anyappearance of having been moved. Imagine the large and splendid Corso,bordered from one end to the other with lofty palaces, with theirbalconies hung with carpets, and their windows with flags. At thesebalconies are three hundred thousand spectators—Romans, Italians,strangers from all parts of the world, the united aristocracy of birth,wealth, and genius. Lovely women, yielding to the influence of thescene, bend over their balconies, or lean from their windows, and showerdown confetti, which are returned by bouquets; the air seems darkenedwith the falling confetti and flying flowers. In the streets the livelycrowd is dressed in the most fantastic costumes—gigantic cabbages walkgravely about, buffaloes’ heads bellow from men’s shoulders, dogs walkon their hind legs; in the midst of all this a mask is lifted, and, asin Callot’s Temptation of St. Anthony, a lovely face is exhibited, whichwe would fain follow, but from which we are separated by troops offiends. This will give a faint idea of the Carnival at Rome.
At the second turn, the count stopped the carriage, and requestedpermission to withdraw, leaving the vehicle at their disposal. Franzlooked up—they were opposite the Rospoli Palace. At the centre window,the one hung with white damask with a red cross, was a blue domino,beneath which Franz’s imagination easily pictured the beautiful Greek ofthe Argentina.
“Gentlemen,” said the count, springing out, “when you are tired of beingactors, and wish to become spectators of this scene, you know you haveplaces at my windows. In the meantime, dispose of my coachman, mycarriage, and my servants.”
We have forgotten to mention, that the count’s coachman was attired in abear-skin, exactly resembling Odry’s in The Bear and the Pasha; and thetwo footmen behind were dressed up as green monkeys, with spring masks,with which they made grimaces at everyone who passed.
Franz thanked the count for his attention. As for Albert, he was busilyoccupied throwing bouquets at a carriage full of Roman peasants that waspassing near him. Unfortunately for him, the line of carriages moved onagain, and while he descended the Piazza del Popolo, the other ascendedtowards the Palazzo di Venezia.
“Ah, my dear fellow,” said he to Franz; “you did not see?”
“What?”
“There,—that calash filled with Roman peasants.”
“No.”
“Well, I am convinced they are all charming women.”
“How unfortunate that you were masked, Albert,” said Franz; “here was anopportunity of making up for past disappointments.”
“Oh,” replied he, half laughing, half serious; “I hope the Carnival willnot pass without some amends in one shape or the other.”
But, in spite of Albert’s hope, the day passed unmarked by any incident,excepting two or three encounters with the carriage full of Romanpeasants. At one of these encounters, accidentally or purposely,Albert’s mask fell off. He instantly rose and cast the remainder of thebouquets into the carriage. Doubtless one of the charming females Alberthad detected beneath their coquettish disguise was touched by hisgallantry; for, as the carriage of the two friends passed her, she threwa bunch of violets. Albert seized it, and as Franz had no reason tosuppose it was meant for him, he suffered Albert to retain it. Albertplaced it in his button-hole, and the carriage went triumphantly on.
“Well,” said Franz to him; “there is the beginning of an adventure.”
“Laugh if you please—I really think so. So I will not abandon thisbouquet.”
“Pardieu,” returned Franz, laughing, “in token of your ingratitude.”
The jest, however, soon appeared to become earnest; for when Albert andFranz again encountered the carriage with the contadini, the one who hadthrown the viole
ts to Albert, clapped her hands when she beheld them inhis button-hole.
“Bravo, bravo,” said Franz; “things go wonderfully. Shall I leave you?Perhaps you would prefer being alone?”
“No,” replied he; “I will not be caught like a fool at a firstdisclosure by a rendezvous under the clock, as they say at the opera-balls. If the fair peasant wishes to carry matters any further, we shallfind her, or rather, she will find us tomorrow; then she will give mesome sign or other, and I shall know what I have to do.”
“On my word,” said Franz, “you are as wise as Nestor and prudent asUlysses, and your fair Circe must be very skilful or very powerful ifshe succeed in changing you into a beast of any kind.”
Albert was right; the fair unknown had resolved, doubtless, to carry theintrigue no farther; for although the young men made several more turns,they did not again see the calash, which had turned up one of theneighboring streets. Then they returned to the Rospoli Palace; but thecount and the blue domino had also disappeared; the two windows, hungwith yellow damask, were still occupied by the persons whom the counthad invited.
At this moment the same bell that had proclaimed the beginning of themascherata sounded the retreat. The file on the Corso broke the line,and in a second all the carriages had disappeared. Franz and Albert wereopposite the Via delle Muratte; the coachman, without saying a word,drove up it, passed along the Piazza di Spagna and the Rospoli Palaceand stopped at the door of the hotel. Signor Pastrini came to the doorto receive his guests.
Franz hastened to inquire after the count, and to express regret that hehad not returned in sufficient time; but Pastrini reassured him bysaying that the Count of Monte Cristo had ordered a second carriage forhimself, and that it had gone at four o’clock to fetch him from theRospoli Palace.
The count had, moreover, charged him to offer the two friends the key ofhis box at the Argentina. Franz questioned Albert as to his intentions;but Albert had great projects to put into execution before going to thetheatre; and instead of making any answer, he inquired if SignorPastrini could procure him a tailor.
“A tailor,” said the host; “and for what?”
“To make us between now and tomorrow two Roman peasant costumes,”returned Albert.
The host shook his head.
“To make you two costumes between now and tomorrow? I ask yourexcellencies’ pardon, but this is quite a French demand; for the nextweek you will not find a single tailor who would consent to sew sixbuttons on a waistcoat if you paid him a crown a piece for each button.”
“Then I must give up the idea?”
“No; we have them ready-made. Leave all to me; and tomorrow, when youawake, you shall find a collection of costumes with which you will besatisfied.”
“My dear Albert,” said Franz, “leave all to our host; he has alreadyproved himself full of resources; let us dine quietly, and afterwards goand see l’Italienne à Alger!
“Agreed,” returned Albert; “but remember, Signor Pastrini, that both myfriend and myself attach the greatest importance to having tomorrow thecostumes we have asked for.”
The host again assured them they might rely on him, and that theirwishes should be attended to; upon which Franz and Albert mounted totheir apartments, and proceeded to disencumber themselves of theircostumes. Albert, as he took off his dress, carefully preserved thebunch of violets; it was his token reserved for the morrow.
The two friends sat down to table; but they could not refrain fromremarking the difference between the Count of Monte Cristo’s table andthat of Signor Pastrini. Truth compelled Franz, in spite of the dislikehe seemed to have taken to the count, to confess that the advantage wasnot on Pastrini’s side. During dessert, the servant inquired at whattime they wished for the carriage. Albert and Franz looked at eachother, fearing really to abuse the count’s kindness. The servantunderstood them.
“His excellency the Count of Monte Cristo had,” he said, “given positiveorders that the carriage was to remain at their lordships’ orders allday, and they could therefore dispose of it without fear ofindiscretion.”
They resolved to profit by the count’s courtesy, and ordered the horsesto be harnessed, while they substituted evening dress for that whichthey had on, and which was somewhat the worse for the numerous combatsthey had sustained.
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This precaution taken, they went to the theatre, and installedthemselves in the count’s box. During the first act, the Countess G——entered. Her first look was at the box where she had seen the count theprevious evening, so that she perceived Franz and Albert in the place ofthe very person concerning whom she had expressed so strange an opinionto Franz. Her opera-glass was so fixedly directed towards them, thatFranz saw it would be cruel not to satisfy her curiosity; and, availinghimself of one of the privileges of the spectators of the Italiantheatres, who use their boxes to hold receptions, the two friends wentto pay their respects to the countess. Scarcely had they entered, whenshe motioned to Franz to assume the seat of honor. Albert, in his turn,sat behind.
“Well,” said she, hardly giving Franz time to sit down, “it seems youhave nothing better to do than to make the acquaintance of this new LordRuthven, and you are already the best friends in the world.”
“Without being so far advanced as that, my dear countess,” returnedFranz, “I cannot deny that we have abused his good nature all day.”
“All day?”
“Yes; this morning we breakfasted with him; we rode in his carriage allday, and now we have taken possession of his box.”
“You know him, then?”
“Yes, and no.”
“How so?”
“It is a long story.”
“Tell it to me.”
“It would frighten you too much.”
“So much the more reason.”
“At least wait until the story has a conclusion.”
“Very well; I prefer complete histories; but tell me how you made hisacquaintance? Did anyone introduce you to him?”
“No; it was he who introduced himself to us.”
“When?”
“Last night, after we left you.”
“Through what medium?”
“The very prosaic one of our landlord.”
“He is staying, then, at the Hôtel de Londres with you?”
“Not only in the same hotel, but on the same floor.”
“What is his name; for, of course, you know?”
“The Count of Monte Cristo.”
“That is not a family name?”
“No, it is the name of the island he has purchased.”
“And he is a count?”
“A Tuscan count.”
“Well, we must put up with that,” said the countess, who was herselffrom one of the oldest Venetian families. “What sort of a man is he?”
“Ask the Vicomte de Morcerf.”
“You hear, M. de Morcerf, I am referred to you,” said the countess.
“We should be very hard to please, madam,” returned Albert, “did we notthink him delightful. A friend of ten years’ standing could not havedone more for us, or with a more perfect courtesy.”
“Come,” observed the countess, smiling, “I see my vampire is only somemillionaire, who has taken the appearance of Lara in order to avoidbeing confounded with M. de Rothschild; and you have seen her?”
“Her?”
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“The beautiful Greek of yesterday.”
“No; we heard, I think, the sound of her guzla, but she remainedperfectly invisible.”
“When you say invisible,” interrupted Albert, “it is only to keep up themystery; for whom do you take the blue domino at the window with thewhite curtains?”
“Where was this window with white hangings?” asked the countess.
“At the Rospoli Palace.”
“The count had three windows at the Rospoli Palace?”
“Yes. Did you pass through the Corso?”
“Yes.”
“Well,
did you notice two windows hung with yellow damask, and one withwhite damask with a red cross? Those were the count’s windows.”
“Why, he must be a nabob. Do you know what those three windows wereworth?”
“Two or three hundred Roman crowns?”
“Two or three thousand.”
“The deuce!”
“Does his island produce him such a revenue?”
“It does not bring him a bajocco.”
“Then why did he purchase it?”
“For a whim.”
“He is an original, then?”
“In reality,” observed Albert, “he seemed to me somewhat eccentric; werehe at Paris, and a frequenter of the theatres, I should say he was apoor devil literally mad. This morning he made two or three exits worthyof Didier or Anthony.”
At this moment a fresh visitor entered, and, according to custom, Franzgave up his seat to him. This circumstance had, moreover, the effect ofchanging the conversation; an hour afterwards the two friends returnedto their hotel.
Signor Pastrini had already set about procuring their disguises for themorrow; and he assured them that they would be perfectly satisfied. Thenext morning, at nine o’clock, he entered Franz’s room, followed by atailor, who had eight or ten Roman peasant costumes on his arm; theyselected two exactly alike, and charged the tailor to sew on each oftheir hats about twenty yards of ribbon, and to procure them two of thelong silk sashes of different colors with which the lower ordersdecorate themselves on fête days.
Albert was impatient to see how he looked in his new dress—a jacket andbreeches of blue velvet, silk stockings with clocks, shoes with buckles,and a silk waistcoat. This picturesque attire set him off to greatadvantage; and when he had bound the scarf around his waist, and whenhis hat, placed coquettishly on one side, let fall on his shoulder astream of ribbons, Franz was forced to confess that costume has much todo with the physical superiority we accord to certain nations. The Turksused to be so picturesque with their long and flowing robes, but arethey not now hideous with their blue frocks buttoned up to the chin, andtheir red caps, which make them look like a bottle of wine with a redseal? Franz complimented Albert, who looked at himself in the glass withan unequivocal smile of satisfaction. They were thus engaged when theCount of Monte Cristo entered.
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“Gentlemen,” said he, “although a companion is agreeable, perfectfreedom is sometimes still more agreeable. I come to say that today, andfor the remainder of the Carnival, I leave the carriage entirely at yourdisposal. The host will tell you I have three or four more, so that youwill not inconvenience me in any way. Make use of it, I pray you, foryour pleasure or your business.”
The young men wished to decline, but they could find no good reason forrefusing an offer which was so agreeable to them. The Count of MonteCristo remained a quarter of an hour with them, conversing on allsubjects with the greatest ease. He was, as we have already said,perfectly well acquainted with the literature of all countries. A glanceat the walls of his salon proved to Franz and Albert that he was aconnoisseur of pictures. A few words he let fall showed them that he wasno stranger to the sciences, and he seemed much occupied with chemistry.The two friends did not venture to return the count the breakfast he hadgiven them; it would have been too absurd to offer him in exchange forhis excellent table the very inferior one of Signor Pastrini. They toldhim so frankly, and he received their excuses with the air of a man whoappreciated their delicacy. Albert was charmed with the count’s manners,and he was only prevented from recognizing him for a perfect gentlemanby reason of his varied knowledge.
The permission to do what he liked with the carriage pleased him aboveall, for the fair peasants had appeared in a most elegant carriage thepreceding evening, and Albert was not sorry to be upon an equal footingwith them. At half-past one they descended, the coachman and footman hadput on their livery over their disguises, which gave them a moreridiculous appearance than ever, and which gained them the applause ofFranz and Albert. Albert had fastened the faded bunch of violets to hisbutton-hole. At the first sound of the bell they hastened into the Corsoby the Via Vittoria.
At the second turn, a bunch of fresh violets, thrown from a carriagefilled with harlequins, indicated to Albert that, like himself and hisfriend, the peasants had changed their costume also; and whether it wasthe result of chance, or whether a similar feeling had possessed themboth, while he had donned their costume, they had assumed his.
Albert placed the fresh bouquet in his button-hole, but he kept thefaded one in his hand; and when he again met the calash, he raised it tohis lips, an action which seemed greatly to amuse not only the fair ladywho had thrown it, but her joyous companions also. The day was as gay asthe preceding one, perhaps even more animated and noisy; the countappeared for an instant at his window, but when they again passed he haddisappeared. It is almost needless to say that the flirtation betweenAlbert and the fair peasant continued all day.
In the evening, on his return, Franz found a letter from the embassy,informing him that he would have the honor of being received by hisholiness the next day. At each previous visit he had made to Rome, hehad solicited and obtained the same favor; and incited as much by areligious feeling as by gratitude, he was unwilling to quit the capitalof the Christian world without laying his respectful homage at the feetof one of St. Peter’s successors who has set the rare example of all thevirtues. He did not then think of the Carnival, for in spite of hiscondescension and touching kindness, one cannot incline one’s selfwithout awe before the venerable and noble old man called Gregory XVI.
On his return from the Vatican, Franz carefully avoided the Corso; hebrought away with him a treasure of pious thoughts, to which the madgayety of the maskers would have been profanation.
At ten minutes past five Albert entered overjoyed. The harlequin hadreassumed her peasant’s costume, and as she passed she raised her mask.She was charming. Franz congratulated Albert, who received hiscongratulations with the air of a man conscious that they are merited.He had recognized by certain unmistakable signs, that his fair incognitabelonged to the aristocracy. He had made up his mind to write to her thenext day.
Franz remarked, while he gave these details, that Albert seemed to havesomething to ask of him, but that he was unwilling to ask it. Heinsisted upon it, declaring beforehand that he was willing to make anysacrifice the other wished.
Albert let himself be pressed just as long as friendship required, andthen avowed to Franz that he would do him a great favor by allowing himto occupy the carriage alone the next day. Albert attributed to Franz’sabsence the extreme kindness of the fair peasant in raising her mask.Franz was not sufficiently egotistical to stop Albert in the middle ofan adventure that promised to prove so agreeable to his curiosity and soflattering to his vanity. He felt assured that the perfect indiscretionof his friend would duly inform him of all that happened; and as, duringthree years that he had travelled all over Italy, a similar piece ofgood fortune had never fallen to his share, Franz was by no means sorryto learn how to act on such an occasion. He therefore promised Albertthat he would content himself the morrow with witnessing the Carnivalfrom the windows of the Rospoli Palace.
The next morning he saw Albert pass and repass, holding an enormousbouquet, which he doubtless meant to make the bearer of his amorousepistle. This belief was changed into certainty when Franz saw thebouquet (conspicuous by a circle of white camellias) in the hand of acharming harlequin dressed in rose-colored satin.
The evening was no longer joy, but delirium. Albert nothing doubted butthat the fair unknown would reply in the same manner. Franz anticipatedhis wishes by saying that the noise fatigued him, and that he shouldpass the next day in writing and looking over his journal. Albert wasnot deceived, for the next evening Franz saw him enter triumphantlyshaking a folded paper which he held by one corner.
“Well,” said he, “was I mistaken?”
“She has answered you!” cried Franz.
“Read.”
>
This word was pronounced in a manner impossible to describe. Franz tookthe letter, and read:
“Tuesday evening, at seven o’clock, descend from your carriage oppositethe Via dei Pontefici, and follow the Roman peasant who snatches yourtorch from you. When you arrive at the first step of the church of SanGiacomo, be sure to fasten a knot of rose-colored ribbons to theshoulder of your harlequin costume, in order that you may be recognized.Until then you will not see me. —Constancy and Discretion.”
“Well,” asked he, when Franz had finished, “what do you think of that?”
“I think that the adventure is assuming a very agreeable appearance.”
“I think so, also,” replied Albert; “and I very much fear you will goalone to the Duke of Bracciano’s ball.”
Franz and Albert had received that morning an invitation from thecelebrated Roman banker.
“Take care, Albert,” said Franz. “All the nobility of Rome will bepresent, and if your fair incognita belong to the higher class ofsociety, she must go there.”
“Whether she goes there or not, my opinion is still the same,” returnedAlbert. “You have read the letter?”
“Yes.”
“You know how imperfectly the women of the mezzo cito are educated inItaly?” (This is the name of the lower class.)
“Yes.”
“Well, read the letter again. Look at the writing, and find if you can,any blemish in the language or orthography.” The writing was, inreality, charming, and the orthography irreproachable.
“You are born to good fortune,” said Franz, as he returned the letter.
“Laugh as much as you will,” replied Albert, “I am in love.”
“You alarm me,” cried Franz. “I see that I shall not only go alone tothe Duke of Bracciano’s, but also return to Florence alone.”
“If my unknown be as amiable as she is beautiful,” said Albert, “I shallfix myself at Rome for six weeks, at least. I adore Rome, and I havealways had a great taste for archæology.”
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“Come, two or three more such adventures, and I do not despair of seeingyou a member of the Academy.”
Doubtless Albert was about to discuss seriously his right to theacademic chair when they were informed that dinner was ready. Albert’slove had not taken away his appetite. He hastened with Franz to seathimself, free to recommence the discussion after dinner. After dinner,the Count of Monte Cristo was announced. They had not seen him for twodays. Signor Pastrini informed them that business had called him toCivita Vecchia. He had started the previous evening, and had onlyreturned an hour since. He was charming. Whether he kept a watch overhimself, or whether by accident he did not sound the acrimonious chordsthat in other circumstances had been touched, he was tonight likeeverybody else.
The man was an enigma to Franz. The count must feel sure that Franzrecognized him; and yet he had not let fall a single word indicating anyprevious acquaintance between them. On his side, however great Franz’sdesire was to allude to their former interview, the fear of beingdisagreeable to the man who had loaded him and his friend with kindnessprevented him from mentioning it.
The count had learned that the two friends had sent to secure a box atthe Argentina Theatre, and were told they were all let. In consequence,he brought them the key of his own—at least such was the apparent motiveof his visit. Franz and Albert made some difficulty, alleging their fearof depriving him of it; but the count replied that, as he was going tothe Palli Theatre, the box at the Argentina Theatre would be lost ifthey did not profit by it. This assurance determined the two friends toaccept it.
Franz had by degrees become accustomed to the count’s pallor, which hadso forcibly struck him at their first meeting. He could not refrain fromadmiring the severe beauty of his features, the only defect, or ratherthe principal quality of which was the pallor. Truly, a Byronic hero!Franz could not, we will not say see him, but even think of him withoutimagining his stern head upon Manfred’s shoulders, or beneath Lara’shelmet. His forehead was marked with the line that indicates theconstant presence of bitter thoughts; he had the fiery eyes that seem topenetrate to the very soul, and the haughty and disdainful upper lipthat gives to the words it utters a peculiar character that impressesthem on the minds of those to whom they are addressed.
The count was no longer young. He was at least forty; and yet it waseasy to understand that he was formed to rule the young men with whom heassociated at present. And, to complete his resemblance with thefantastic heroes of the English poet, the count seemed to have the powerof fascination. Albert was constantly expatiating on their good fortunein meeting such a man. Franz was less enthusiastic; but the countexercised over him also the ascendency a strong mind always acquiresover a mind less domineering. He thought several times of the projectthe count had of visiting Paris; and he had no doubt but that, with hiseccentric character, his characteristic face, and his colossal fortune,he would produce a great effect there. And yet he did not wish to be atParis when the count was there.
The evening passed as evenings mostly pass at Italian theatres; that is,not in listening to the music, but in paying visits and conversing. TheCountess G—— wished to revive the subject of the count, but Franzannounced he had something far newer to tell her, and, in spite ofAlbert’s demonstrations of false modesty, he informed the countess ofthe great event which had preoccupied them for the last three days. Assimilar intrigues are not uncommon in Italy, if we may credittravellers, the comtess did not manifest the least incredulity, butcongratulated Albert on his success. They promised, upon separating, tomeet at the Duke of Bracciano’s ball, to which all Rome was invited.
The heroine of the bouquet kept her word; she gave Albert no sign of herexistence the morrow or the day after.
At length Tuesday came, the last and most tumultuous day of theCarnival. On Tuesday, the theatres open at ten o’clock in the morning,as Lent begins after eight at night. On Tuesday, all those who throughwant of money, time, or enthusiasm, have not been to see the Carnivalbefore, mingle in the gayety, and contribute to the noise andexcitement. From two o’clock till five Franz and Albert followed in thefête, exchanging handfuls of confetti with the other carriages and thepedestrians, who crowded amongst the horses’ feet and the carriagewheels without a single accident, a single dispute, or a single fight.
The fêtes are veritable pleasure days to the Italians. The author ofthis history, who has resided five or six years in Italy, does notrecollect to have ever seen a ceremony interrupted by one of thoseevents so common in other countries. Albert was triumphant in hisharlequin costume. A knot of rose-colored ribbons fell from his shoulderalmost to the ground. In order that there might be no confusion, Franzwore his peasant’s costume.
As the day advanced, the tumult became greater. There was not on thepavement, in the carriages, at the windows, a single tongue that wassilent, a single arm that did not move. It was a human storm, made up ofa thunder of cries, and a hail of sweetmeats, flowers, eggs, oranges,and nosegays.
At three o’clock the sound of fireworks, let off on the Piazza delPopolo and the Piazza di Venezia (heard with difficulty amid the din andconfusion) announced that the races were about to begin.
The races, like the moccoli, are one of the episodes peculiar to thelast days of the Carnival. At the sound of the fireworks the carriagesinstantly broke ranks, and retired by the adjacent streets. All theseevolutions are executed with an inconceivable address and marvellousrapidity, without the police interfering in the matter. The pedestriansranged themselves against the walls; then the trampling of horses andthe clashing of steel were heard. A detachment of carbineers, fifteenabreast, galloped up the Corso in order to clear it for the barberi.When the detachment arrived at the Piazza di Venezia, a second volley offireworks was discharged, to announce that the street was clear.
Almost instantly, in the midst of a tremendous and general outcry, sevenor eight horses, excited by the shouts of three hundred thousandspectators, passed by like lightnin
g. Then the Castle of Saint Angelofired three cannon to indicate that number three had won.
Immediately, without any other signal, the carriages moved on, flowingon towards the Corso, down all the streets, like torrents pent up for awhile, which again flow into the parent river; and the immense streamagain continued its course between its two granite banks.
A new source of noise and movement was added to the crowd. The sellersof moccoletti entered on the scene. The moccoli, or moccoletti, arecandles which vary in size from the pascal taper to the rushlight, andwhich give to each actor in the great final scene of the Carnival twovery serious problems to grapple with,—first, how to keep his ownmoccoletto alight; and secondly, how to extinguish the moccoletti ofothers. The moccoletto is like life: man has found but one means oftransmitting it, and that one comes from God. But he has discovered athousand means of taking it away, and the devil has somewhat aided him.The moccoletto is kindled by approaching it to a light. But who candescribe the thousand means of extinguishing the moccoletto?—thegigantic bellows, the monstrous extinguishers, the superhuman fans.Everyone hastened to purchase moccoletti—Franz and Albert among therest.
The night was rapidly approaching; and already, at the cry of“Moccoletti!” repeated by the shrill voices of a thousand vendors, twoor three stars began to burn among the crowd. It was a signal. At theend of ten minutes fifty thousand lights glittered, descending from thePalazzo di Venezia to the Piazza del Popolo, and mounting from thePiazza del Popolo to the Palazzo di Venezia. It seemed like the fête ofJack-o’-lanterns.
It is impossible to form any idea of it without having seen it. Supposethat all the stars had descended from the sky and mingled in a wilddance on the face of the earth; the whole accompanied by cries that werenever heard in any other part of the world. The facchino follows theprince, the Transteverin the citizen, everyone blowing, extinguishing,relighting. Had old Æolus appeared at this moment, he would have beenproclaimed king of the moccoli, and Aquilo the heir-presumptive to thethrone.
This battle of folly and flame continued for two hours; the Corso waslight as day; the features of the spectators on the third and fourthstories were visible.
Every five minutes Albert took out his watch; at length it pointed toseven. The two friends were in the Via dei Pontefici. Albert sprang out,bearing his moccoletto in his hand. Two or three masks strove to knockhis moccoletto out of his hand; but Albert, a first-rate pugilist, sentthem rolling in the street, one after the other, and continued hiscourse towards the church of San Giacomo.
The steps were crowded with masks, who strove to snatch each other’storches. Franz followed Albert with his eyes, and saw him mount thefirst 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 thepeasant girl. He watched them pass through the crowd for some time, butat length he lost sight of them in the Via Macello.
Suddenly the bell that gives the signal for the end of the Carnivalsounded, and at the same instant all the moccoletti were extinguished asif by enchantment. It seemed as though one immense blast of the wind hadextinguished everyone.
Franz found himself in utter darkness. No sound was audible save that ofthe carriages that were carrying the maskers home; nothing was visiblesave a few lights that burnt behind the windows.
The Carnival was over.
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