The Count of Monte Cristo

Opera and Ballet Intermission Arrangement

The chapter explains the judicious theatrical arrangement of dividing the two acts of the opera with a ballet. This plan ensures that the pauses between performances are very short, allowing the opera singers time to rest and change costumes while the dancers execute their pirouettes and display their graceful steps on stage.

Act 2 Overture Begins, Franz Observes the Greek Girl’s Companion

As the overture to the second act commences, Franz notices the mysterious sleeper slowly rise and approach the Greek girl. She turns to exchange a few words with him, then leans forward again on the railing of her box, becoming once more absorbed in the performance. Franz attempts to discern the features of the stranger, but the man’s countenance remains completely in shade. The curtain rises, and Franz’s attention shifts toward the stage and the actors’ performance.

Performance of the Parisina Duet

The second act of Parisina opens with a celebrated and effective duet in which Parisina, while sleeping, betrays to Azzo the secret of her love for Ugo. The injured husband experiences the full range of jealous emotions until conviction overtakes him; in a frenzy of rage and indignation, he awakens his guilty wife to denounce her and threaten vengeance. Described as one of the most beautiful, expressive, and terrible conceptions of Donizetti, the duet moves Franz deeply despite his having heard it twice before. So stirred is he that he rises with the audience, but his intended applause is arrested when the occupant of the Greek girl’s box stands and his identity is revealed.

Franz Recognizes the Count of Monte Cristo

The man in the box, apparently sharing the universal admiration, stands up so that his countenance is fully revealed. Franz recognizes him immediately as the mysterious inhabitant of Monte Cristo—the very same person he had encountered the previous evening in the ruins of the Colosseum, whose voice and figure had seemed so familiar. All doubt of his identity is now at an end; his singular host evidently resides in Rome. The surprise and agitation caused by this confirmation manifest on Franz’s features, prompting the countess to gaze at him in puzzlement before bursting into laughter and demanding to know what has happened.

Countess Suspects the Count Is a Vampire

The countess, examining the stranger through her lorgnette, observes that he looks as though he had “just been dug up”—more like a corpse permitted by a friendly grave-digger to revisit the earth than anything human. She declares him the very image of “Lord Ruthven himself in a living form” and demands to know whether he is a vampire, a resuscitated corpse, or what. When Franz admits that he has seen the man before and believes he is recognized in turn, the countess shudders, observing that the stranger’s coal-black hair, large bright glittering eyes with their wild unearthly fire, and ghastly paleness match perfectly Byron’s descriptions. The Greek woman with him, she insists, is altogether unlike other women—a foreigner and stranger belonging to the same horrible race, a dealer in magical arts.

Countess Pleads with Franz to Avoid the Count

The countess entreats Franz not to approach the count, at least for that night, even if his curiosity continues on the morrow. She feigns having a party at her house to compel Franz to escort her home, and her superstitious dread is so evident that Franz himself feels it. Upon arriving at her hotel, Franz discovers she has deceived him about expecting company; she confesses her little subterfuge, admitting that the “horrid man” had made her feel uncomfortable and she longed to be alone to compose her startled mind. She extracts a promise from Franz that he will return directly to his hotel and make no attempt to follow the man that night, pleading that she cannot bear to serve as a conductor between that man and herself. Franz remains uncertain whether her fears are genuine or whether she is merely amusing herself at his expense.