longed to be alone, and free to ponder over all that had
occurred. One of the two men, whose mysterious meeting in the Colosseum
he had so unintentionally witnessed, was an entire stranger to him, but
not so the other; and though Franz had been unable to distinguish his
features, from his being either wrapped in his mantle or obscured by the
shadow, the tones of his voice had made too powerful an impression on
him the first time he had heard them for him ever again to forget them,
hear them when or where he might. It was more especially when this man
was speaking in a manner half jesting, half bitter, that Franz's ear
recalled most vividly the deep sonorous, yet well-pitched voice that had
addressed him in the grotto of Monte Cristo, and which he heard for the
second time amid the darkness and ruined grandeur of the Colosseum. And
the more he thought, the more entire was his conviction, that the person
who wore the mantle was no other than his former host and entertainer,
"Sinbad the Sailor."

Under any other circumstances, Franz would have found it impossible to
resist his extreme curiosity to know more of so singular a personage,
and with that intent have sought to renew their short acquaintance; but
in the present instance, the confidential nature of the conversation
he had overheard made him, with propriety, judge that his appearance at
such 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 forbearance
should chance afford him another opportunity. In vain did Franz endeavor
to forget the many perplexing thoughts which assailed him; in vain did
he court the refreshment of sleep. Slumber refused to visit his eyelids
and the night was passed in feverish contemplation of the chain of
circumstances tending to prove the identity of the mysterious visitant
to the Colosseum with the inhabitant of the grotto of Monte Cristo; and
the more he thought, the firmer grew his opinion on the subject. Worn
out at length, he fell asleep at daybreak, and did not awake till late.
Like a genuine Frenchman, Albert had employed his time in arranging
for the evening's diversion; he had sent to engage a box at the Teatro
Argentino; 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 da