How often since the world began have such vows been made and
broken--broken, not willingly, but of necessity--broken and mourned
over, and, in due course of time, forgotten! I looked at the Marchese di
San Silvestro the other night, as she sailed up the room in her lace and
diamonds, with her fat little husband toddling after her, and wondered
whether, in these days of her magnificence, she ever gave a thought to
her lost Alberto--Alberto, who has been married himself this many a long
day, and has succeeded to his father's estates, and has numerous family,
I am told. At all events, she was unhappy enough over parting with
him at the time. The two old gentlemen, who, as holders of the
purse-strings, knew that they were completely masters of the situation,
and could afford to be generous, showed some kindliness of feeing at the
last. They allowed the poor lovers an uninterrupted half-hour in
which to bid each other adieu forever, and abstained from any needless
harshness in making their decision known. When the time was up, two
travelling-carriages were seen waiting at the door. Count von Rosenau
pushed his son before him into the first; the marchese assisted the
half-fainting Bianca into the second; the vetturini cracked their whips,
and presently both vehicles were rolling away, the one toward the
north, the other toward the south. I suppose the young people had been
promising to remain faithful to each other until some happier future
time should permit of their union, for at the last moment Albrecht
thrust his head out of the carriage window, and, waving his hand, cried,
"_A rivederci!_" I don't know whether they ever met again.

The whole scene, I confess, had affected me a good deal, in spite of
some of the absurdities by which it had been marked; and it was not
until I had been alone for some time, and silence had once more fallen
upon the Longarone _osteria_, that I awoke to the fact that it was _my_