"The Count of Monte-Cristo; his wife, who is sitting next to him, is wonderfully handsome; they say she is a Greek. The pretty boy is their son."
"Thanks," said San Pietro; and then he muttered to himself: "'Tis he; he has a son! This time he will not escape me."
"Do you know the count's political opinions?" said San Pietro, after a pause.
"I only know that immediately after the gentleman's arrival from Naples he sent his negro with his card to Radetzky, asking the marshal to allow him to pay his respects to him."
"That is decisive."
The opera had in the meantime been proceeded with; when the third act began a messenger appeared with an order which called the adjutant to the marshal's house. What could the officers do? The service went before everything else, and they disappeared just as La Luciola, Ruinta, and Signor Tino were singing a beautiful trio.
At length the last scene came; the rose, the proud queen of flowers, assented to the marriage of the pink and the daisy, and a bower of green vines was raised before an altar constructed of evergreens.
Red, white and green! The national colors!
At this moment Monte-Cristo arose and gave the signal. Immediately every one rose and clapped their hands, and he joyously exclaimed:
"Long live Italy! Long live the national flag!"