“Poor Penelope,” said Pavel to Nelidova, getting into the carriage, on observing through the trees the dark figure of Irena.
The conversation of Ekaterina Ivanovna with the stranger after the departure of the august travellers was so prolonged that the carriage of the maid of honour was much behindhand, according to the marche-route, and the horses had to be cruelly driven to catch up the Imperial carriages.
“A rose, a rose! Not myrtle!” cried out Nelidova in French,—very mysteriously to all around,—to the stranger, to whom she waved her handkerchief from the carriage window, by way of encouragement.
“She is truly a sorrowing Penelope,” said Ekaterina Ivanovna, as, driving away, she lost sight in the distance of the dark motionless figure of Irena.
The journey of the Count and Countess du Nord was very interesting. They travelled through all Germany, and spent the New Year in Venice. The 8th of January, 1780, the grand-duke, Pavel Petrovitch, wrapped in the picturesque Italian cloak Tabaro, and the grand-duchess, in the graceful Venetian mantilla and the Cendadi, visited the picture gallery and the palace of the Doge in the morning, and in the evening went to the theatre of the “Prophet Samuel,” where “Iphigenia in Tauridus,” was to be played in honour of the august visitors, as it was known to be their favourite opera. The celebrated composer Glück himself conducted the orchestra.
After the opera, the public poured out, and crowded the square of St. Mark, where a national masquerade had been organised in honour of the Imperial travellers.
The square was covered with a noisy, vivacious crowd. Every one noticed that the Count du Nord, after having led the Countess straight from the theatre to the palace which had been prepared for them, was walking, wearing a mask, up and down, a little out of the way of the crowd, with a very tall foreigner, also masked, whom Glück himself had presented to him at the opera.
The full moon shed her silvery light, and all around there were many coloured fires and lamps. The noise and chattering of the mixed crowd failed to attract the attention of the two interlocutors.
“Who is that?” asked a lady of her husband, turning his attention to the fact that the Count du Nord was attentively listening to the conversation of the foreigner by his side. “Don’t you know him again—the friend of Glück—our celebrated necromancer, our raiser of ghosts?”
Pavel was very much agitated, and in a bad humour. He had wanted to make fun of the stranger, but the recollection of a certain fact had involuntarily embarrassed him.