The Ghost-Seer; or the Apparitionist | Page 4

was past
midnight. The chamberlain, Z-------, was waiting anxiously for us at the
door.
"How fortunate it was that you sent us a message," said he to the prince,
as he lighted us up the staircase. "The news which Baron F----- soon
after brought us respecting you from the square of St. Mark would
otherwise have given us the greatest uneasiness."
"I sent you a message!" said the prince. "When? I know nothing of it."
"This evening, after eight, you sent us word that we must not be
alarmed if you should come home later to-night than usual."
The prince looked at me. "Perhaps you have taken this precaution
without mentioning it to me."
I knew nothing of it.
"It must be so, however," replied the chamberlain, "since here is your
repeating-watch, which you sent me as a mark of authenticity."
The prince put his hand to his watch-pocket. It was empty, and he
recognized the watch which the chamberlain held as his own.
"Who brought it?" said he, in amazement.
"An unknown mask, in an Armenian dress, who disappeared
immediately."
We stood looking at each other. "What do you think of this?" said the
prince at last, after a long silence. "I have a secret guardian here in
Venice."
The frightful transaction of this night threw the prince into a fever,
which confined him to his room for a week. During this time our hotel
was crowded with Venetians and strangers, who visited the prince from

a deference to his newly-discovered rank. They vied with each other in
offers of service, and it was not a little entertaining to observe that the
last visitor seldom failed to hint some suspicion derogatory to the
character of the preceding one. Billets-doux and nostrums poured in
upon us from all quarters. Every one endeavored to recommend himself
in his own way. Our adventure with the Inquisition was no more
mentioned. The court of --------, wishing the prince to delay his
departure from Venice for some time, orders were sent to several
bankers to pay him considerable sums of money. He was thus, against
his will, compelled to protract his residence in Italy; and at his request I
also resolved to postpone my departure for some time longer.
As soon as the prince had recovered strength enough to quit his
chamber he was advised by his physician to take an airing in a gondola
upon the Brenta, for the benefit of the air, to which, as the weather was
serene, he readily consented. Just as the prince was about to step into
the boat he missed the key of a little chest in which some very valuable
papers were enclosed.. We immediately turned back to search for it. He
very distinctly remembered that he had locked the chest the day before,
and he had never left the room in the interval. As our endeavors to find
it proved ineffectual, we were obliged to relinquish the search in order
to avoid being too late. The prince, whose soul was above suspicion,
gave up the key as lost, and desired that it might not be mentioned any
more.
Our little voyage was exceedingly delightful. A picturesque country,
which at every winding of the river seemed to increase in richness and
beauty; the serenity of the sky, which formed a May day in the middle
of February; the charming gardens and elegant countryseats which
adorned the banks of the Brenta; the maestic city of Venice behind us,
with its lofty spires, and a forest of masts, rising as it were out of the
waves; all this afforded us one of the most splendid prospects in the
world. We wholly abandoned ourselves to the enchantment of Nature's
luxuriant scenery; our minds shared the hilarity of the day; even the
prince himself lost his wonted gravity, and vied with us in merry jests
and diversions. On landing about two Italian miles from the city we
heard the sound of sprightly music; it came from a small village at a

little distance from the Brenta, where there was at that time a fair. The
place was crowded with company of every description. A troop of
young girls and boys, dressed in theatrical habits, welcomed us in a
pantomimical dance. The invention was novel; animation and grace
attended their every movement. Before the dance was quite concluded
the principal actress, who represented a queen, stopped suddenly, as if
arrested by an invisible arm. Herself and those around her were
motionless. The music ceased. The assembly was silent. Not a breath
was to be heard, and the queen stood with her eyes fixed on the ground
in deep abstraction. On a sudden she started from her reverie with the
fury of one inspired, and looked wildly around her. "A king is among
us,"