world
without laying his respectful homage at the feet of one of St. Peter's
successors who has set the rare example of all the virtues. He did
not then think of the Carnival, for in spite of his condescension and
touching kindness, one cannot incline one's self without awe before the
venerable and noble old man called Gregory XVI. On his return from the
Vatican, Franz carefully avoided the Corso; he brought away with him a
treasure of pious thoughts, to which the mad gayety of the maskers
would have been profanation. At ten minutes past five Albert entered
overjoyed. The harlequin had reassumed her peasant's costume, and as
she passed she raised her mask. She was charming. Franz congratulated
Albert, who received his congratulations with the air of a man conscious
that they are merited. He had recognized by certain unmistakable signs,
that his fair incognita belonged to the aristocracy. He had made up his
mind to write to her the next day. Franz remarked, while he gave these
details, that Albert seemed to have something to ask of him, but that he
was unwilling to ask it. He insisted upon it, declaring beforehand
that he was willing to make any sacrifice the other wished. Albert let
himself be pressed just as long as friendship required, and then avowed
to Franz that he would do him a great favor by allowing him to occupy
the carriage alone the next day. Albert attributed to Franz's absence
the extreme kindness of the fair peasant in raising her mask. Franz
was not sufficiently egotistical to stop Albert in the middle of an
adventure that promised to prove so agreeable to his curiosity and so
flattering to his vanity. He felt assured that the perfect indiscretion
of his friend would duly inform him of all that happened; and as, during
three years that he had travelled all over Italy, a similar piece of
good fortune had never fallen to his share, Franz was by no means sorry
to learn how to act on such an occasion. He therefore promised Albert
that he would content himself the morrow with witnessing the Carnival
from the windows of the Rospoli Palace.

The next morning he saw Albert pass and repass, holding an enormous
bouquet, which he doubtless meant to make the bearer of his amorous
epistle. This belief was changed into certainty when Franz saw the
bouquet (conspicuous by a circle of white camellias) in the hand of a
charming harlequin dressed in rose-colored satin. The evening was no
longer joy, but delirium. Albert