Chapter 37. The Catacombs of Saint Sebastian
In his whole life, perhaps, Franz had never before experienced so sudden
an impression, so rapid a transition from gayety to sadness, as in this
moment. It seemed as though Rome, under the magic breath of some demon
of the night, had suddenly changed into a vast tomb. By a chance, which
added yet more to the intensity of the darkness, the moon, which was on
the wane, did not rise until eleven o’clock, and the streets which the
young man traversed were plunged in the deepest obscurity.
The distance was short, and at the end of ten minutes his carriage, or
rather the count’s, stopped before the Hôtel de Londres.
Dinner was waiting, but as Albert had told him that he should not return
so soon, Franz sat down without him. Signor Pastrini,
