ons made Albert more lively and
anxious to please than he had hitherto been. Totally disregarding the
business of the stage, he leaned from his box and began attentively
scrutinizing the beauty of each pretty woman, aided by a powerful
opera-glass; but, alas, this attempt to attract notice wholly failed;
not even curiosity had been excited, and it was but too apparent
that the lovely creatures, into whose good graces he was desirous of
stealing, were all so much engrossed with themselves, their lovers,
or their own thoughts, that they had not so much as noticed him or the
manipulation of his glass.

The truth was, that the anticipated pleasures of the Carnival, with the
"holy week" that was to succeed it, so filled every fair breast, as to
prevent the least attention being bestowed even on the business of the
stage. The actors made their entries and exits unobserved or unthought
of; at certain conventional moments, the spectators would suddenly cease
their conversation, or rouse themselves from their musings, to listen
to some brilliant effort of Moriani's, a well-executed recitative by
Coselli, or to join in loud applause at the wonderful powers of La
Specchia; but that momentary excitement over, they quickly relapsed into
their former state of preoccupation or interesting conversation. Towards
the close of the first act, the door of a box which had been hitherto
vacant was opened; a lady entered to whom Franz had been introduced in
Paris, where indeed, he had imagined she still was. The quick eye of
Albert caught the involuntary start with which his friend beheld the new
arrival, and, turning to him, he said hastily, "Do you know the woman
who has just entered that box?"

"Yes; what do you think of her?"

"Oh, she is perfectly lovely--what a complexion! And such magnificent
hair! Is she French?"

"No; a Venetian."

"And her name is--"

"Countess G----."

"Ah, I know her by name!" exclaimed Albert; "she is said to possess as
much wit and cleverness as beauty. I was to have been presented to her
when I met her at Madame Villefort's ball."

"Shall I assist you in repairing your negligence?" asked Franz.

"My dear fellow, are you really on such good terms with her as to
venture to take me to her box?"

"Why, I have only had the honor of being in her society and conversing
with her three or four times in my life; but you know that even such
an acquaintance as that might warrant my doing what you ask." At that