e agitated crowd. The private friends of
the Count, his partisans, the members of the society of which he was the
chief, formed an imposing mass agitated by the most tumultuous
sentiments. Two hearts beat violently, and, though in different places,
a skilful clock-maker would have declared that one was not faster than
the other by a single second. These two hearts were full of the same
object, desired the same thing, pursued the same end. One sentiment
united both, and they were equally tortured by hope and fear.

One of these was a woman dressed in black, and having a half disclosed,
fresh and beautiful face. A fine and delicately gloved hand was placed
upon her heart as if to restrain its pulsations. Her other hand, from
time to time, was passed beneath her veil, to bear to her lips an
exquisitely embroidered and perfumed handkerchief. She sat alone on one
of the remote benches. For a long time she remained motionless, but
suddenly seeming anxious to avoid observation, she approached, as
nearly as possible, the front of the recess in which the bench on which
she had been sitting was placed. She then cast a quick, anxious glance
on the crowd which filled every portion of the court-room, returned, and
became again motionless, and apparently calm as she had been before.

The other actor in this silent scene, was a young man with a pale and
agitated countenance, which betrayed the anxiety of his mind, and the
deep interest he took in the events of the day. Yet not to the place
reserved for the judges, nor the doors through which the prisoner would
be led, did he look. Suspiciously examining every bench in the hall,
perceiving (so to speak) the mass of spectators, the long lines of which
rose one above another, he examined the most remote, even, without
perceiving what he was evidently so anxious to find. At last, by a
sudden start, he attracted the attention of those near him,--a
half-stifled cry burst from his lips; he had perceived the lonely woman
on the remote bench.

"Do you know that lady?" said a young man who sat upon the advocates'
bench.

"I know her?" said he, "not at all."

"Excuse me, you seemed surprised when you saw her."

"The fact was, I had not remarked those seats; they are real opera
boxes."

"Look again, Signor, the lady amuses herself strangely."

"I see nothing, sir," said the pale young man, who still kept his eyes
fixed upon the lady.

"Three times," said the first speaker, "she has pla