Граф Монте-Крісто

The Colosseum.

           Oh,heistheexactpersonificationofwhatIhavebeenledtoexpect!Thecoal-blackhair,largebright,glitteringeyes,inwhichawild,unearthlyfireseemsburning—thesameghastlypaleness.Thenobserve,too,thatthewomanwithhimisaltogetherunlikeallothersofhersex.Sheisaforeigner—astranger.Nobodyknowswhosheis,orwhereshecomesfrom.Nodoubtshebelongstothesamehorribleracehedoes,andis,likehimself,adealerinmagicalarts.Ientreatofyounottogonearhim—atleastto-night;andiftomorrowyourcuriositystillcontinuesasgreat,pursueyourresearchesifyouwill;butto-nightyouneithercannorshall.ForthatpurposeImeantokeepyoualltomyself."Franzprotestedhecouldnotdeferhispursuittillthefollowingday,formanyreasons."Listentome,"saidthecountess,"anddonotbesoveryheadstrong.Iamgoinghome.Ihaveapartyatmyhouseto-night,andthereforecannotpossiblyremaintilltheendoftheopera.Now,Icannotforoneinstantbelieveyousodevoidofgallantryastorefusealadyyourescortwhensheevencondescendstoaskyouforit."

           TherewasnothingelseleftforFranztodobuttotakeuphishat,openthedoorofthebox,andofferthecountesshisarm.

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