flowers and fountains in the court without, leaving the room itself half
in shadow, and half tinged by a quiet and ghostly light.

It was then that Zanoni rose. "Well, gentlemen," said he, "we have not
yet wearied our host, I hope; and his garden offers a new temptation to
protract our stay. Have you no musicians among your train, prince,
that might regale our ears while we inhale the fragrance of your
orange-trees?"

"An excellent thought!" said the prince. "Mascari, see to the music."

The party rose simultaneously to adjourn to the garden; and then, for
the first time, the effect of the wine they had drunk seemed to make
itself felt.

With flushed cheeks and unsteady steps they came into the open air,
which tended yet more to stimulate that glowing fever of the grape.
As if to make up for the silence with which the guests had hitherto
listened to Zanoni, every tongue was now loosened,--every man talked,
no man listened. There was something wild and fearful in the contrast
between the calm beauty of the night and scene, and the hubbub and
clamour of these disorderly roysters. One of the Frenchmen, in especial,
the young Duc de R--, a nobleman of the highest rank, and of all the
quick, vivacious, and irascible temperament of his countrymen, was
particularly noisy and excited. And as circumstances, the remembrance
of which is still preserved among certain circles of Naples, rendered it
afterwards necessary that the duc should himself give evidence of what
occurred, I will here translate the short account he drew up, and which
was kindly submitted to me some few years ago by my accomplished and
lively friend, Il Cavaliere di B--.