“A ball is a stupid thing anyhow,” said Morton, yawning, “particularly when its all over, and one has talked and danced one’s self nearly to death.”
I felt too stupid myself to make any reply to this philosophical observation, as I followed my friend into our carriage.
In such scenes passed off the gay carnival during eight days. Punch’s performance, the gay masquerading, the odd tricks performed by itinerant mountebanks, and divers absurdities of the populace themselves, formed the daily routine, usually concluded at night by a ball. On the last day, at night, after the races, the Corso appeared illuminated as if by magic, with thousands of lights carried by those on foot, in carriages, and displayed at all the windows; those are indeed unfortunate who cannot afford a light on the occasion. It is every one’s business to extinguish his neighbor’s light and preserve his own as long as he can; it is impossible to give an idea of the effect produced by such an odd scene, the glitter and confusion as they each endeavor to extinguish each other’s torches and preserve their own, when viewed from the commanding position we occupied on the balcony of the Palazzo, the effect was singular and beautiful; gradually the lights became fewer and fewer, until at last they disappeared, the noise of the multitude died away, and the carnival was over.
The next morning, after breakfast, Augustus absolutely persisted in making me promise to accompany him to Tivoli, to pay a visit to Coningsby, who had hired a villa there; and although I cared little about going, yet to oblige him I consented. I sent the novel I had promised Carrara by my valet, with my compliments and inquiries about his health, but we had started for Tivoli before Henri returned with an answer.
We remained a week with our friend, who, delighted to see us, entertained us with noble hospitality. The tasteful arrangement of his villa, the salubrious air and charming scenery of the surrounded country, over which was scattered many an ancient ruin, successively claimed our attention and admiration. Time spent agreeably flies rapidly away, on the contrary moments passed in pain or sorrow, are anxiously numbered. When our stanhope again stopped before the door of our hotel, it seemed but a few hours since we had left it.
CHAPTER III.
It wanted two hours of dinner, and, leaving Augustus to scold the servants and make whatever domestic arrangements he choose, I took my hat and sought the way to Carrara’s house; the windows facing the street were bolted and barred as usual; I knocked loudly at the street door, but no one came; and after waiting a few minutes I knocked again, still no answer; I concluded Carrara must be out of town, perhaps on a visit, and was about going away when I saw old Guiseppe coming slowly toward the house; I waited until he reached me, and then asked if his master was well?
The old man looked at me with grave surprise, and mournfully exclaimed, “Ah, Signor! I see you have not heard the sad news. Master died the second day after you left for Tivoli, and was buried yesterday.”
“Carrara dead!” I shrieked, rather than spoke; “you or I must be dreaming; it is impossible he could have died so very suddenly; he was living a week ago when I left for Tivoli.”
“He had been sick, you know sir, all carnival time; it was only a simple sore-throat, to be sure, but he neglected it, he said it would get well of itself; but he grew worse instead of better, and gangrene had taken place before he would allow me to send for a physician. It was then too late; master became delirious, and talked constantly about you, and somebody whom he called “Genevra.” He got his senses a little, just before he died, and calling me to his bedside, told me to give you a packet, which he placed in my hands. I told him you had gone to Tivoli for a few days, and that when you returned I would do so. He said he was very sorry you were not here to see him die; that he never should see you again in this world. Shortly after, he became speechless, and the second day after your departure, in the afternoon, he died; a relative of his came to town just in time to witness his death, and attend to his funeral. He had written upon the back of the will, that it was not to be opened or read until your return, and Signor Terra told me to request you to call upon him as soon as you could after your return to town.”