instant, the countess perceived Franz, and graciously waved her hand to
him, to which he replied by a respectful inclination of the head. "Upon
my word," said Albert, "you seem to be on excellent terms with the
beautiful countess."

"You are mistaken in thinking so," returned Franz calmly; "but you
merely fall into the same error which leads so many of our countrymen to
commit the most egregious blunders,--I mean that of judging the habits
and customs of Italy and Spain by our Parisian notions; believe me,
nothing is more fallacious than to form any estimate of the degree of
intimacy you may suppose existing among persons by the familiar terms
they seem upon; there is a similarity of feeling at this instant between
ourselves and the countess--nothing more."

"Is there, indeed, my good fellow? Pray tell me, is it sympathy of
heart?"

"No; of taste," continued Franz gravely.

"And in what manner has this congeniality of mind been evinced?"

"By the countess's visiting the Colosseum, as we did last night, by
moonlight, and nearly alone."

"You were with her, then?"

"I was."

"And what did you say to her?"

"Oh, we talked of the illustrious dead of whom that magnificent ruin is
a glorious monument!"

"Upon my word," cried Albert, "you must have been a very entertaining
companion alone, or all but alone, with a beautiful woman in such a
place of sentiment as the Colosseum, and yet to find nothing better a
talk about than the dead! All I can say is, if ever I should get such a
chance, the living should be my theme."

"And you will probably find your theme ill-chosen."

"But," said Albert, breaking in upon his discourse, "never mind the
past; let us only remember the present. Are you not going to keep your
promise of introducing me to the fair subject of our remarks?"

"Certainly, directly the curtain falls on the stage."

"What a confounded time this first act takes. I believe, on my soul,
that they never mean to finish it."

"Oh, yes, they will; only listen to that charming finale. How
exquisitely Coselli sings his part."

"But what an awkward, inelegant fellow he is."

"Well, then, what do you say to La Specchia? Did you ever see anything
more perfect than her acting?"

"Why, you know, my dear fellow, when one has been accustomed to Malibran
and Sontag, such singers as these don't make the same impression on you
they perhaps do on others."

"At least, you must admire Moriani's style and execution.