, of the whole theatre, withholds from me his
applause."

"Which is he, my darling?" said the old woman, with fondness in her
voice. "He must indeed be dull--not worth a thought."

The actress drew Gionetta nearer to the stage, and pointed out to her a
man in one of the boxes, conspicuous amongst all else by the simplicity
of his dress, and the extraordinary beauty of his features.

"Not worth a thought, Gionetta!" repeated Viola,--"Not worth a thought!
Alas, not to think of him, seems the absence of thought itself!"

The prompter summoned the Signora Pisani. "Find out his name, Gionetta,"
said she, moving slowly to the stage, and passing by Glyndon, who gazed
at her with a look of sorrowful reproach.

The scene on which the actress now entered was that of the final
catastrophe, wherein all her remarkable powers of voice and art were
pre-eminently called forth. The house hung on every word with breathless
worship; but the eyes of Viola sought only those of one calm and unmoved
spectator; she exerted herself as if inspired. Zanoni listened, and
observed her with an attentive gaze, but no approval escaped his lips;
no emotion changed the expression of his cold and half-disdainful
aspect. Viola, who was in the character of one who loved, but without
return, never felt so acutely the part she played. Her tears were
truthful; her passion that of nature: it was almost too terrible to
behold. She was borne from the stage exhausted and insensible, amidst
such a tempest of admiring rapture as Continental audiences alone can
raise. The crowd stood up, handkerchiefs waved, garlands and flowers
were thrown on the stage,--men wiped their eyes, and women sobbed aloud.

"By heavens!" said a Neapolitan of great rank, "She has fired me beyond
endurance. To-night--this very night--she shall be mine! You have
arranged all, Mascari?"

"All, signor. And the young Englishman?"

"The presuming barbarian! As I before told thee, let him bleed for his
folly. I will have no rival."

"But an Englishman! There is always a search after the bodies of the
English."

"Fool! is not the sea deep enough, or the earth secret enough, to hide
one dead man? Our ruffians are silent as the grave itself; and I!--who
would dare to suspect, to arraign the Prince di --? See to it,--this
night. I trust him to you. Robbers murder him, you understand,--the
country swarms with them; plunder and strip him, the better to favour
such report. Take three men; th