heads uncovered, a long file of monks and priests, and a carriage carrying the Host, surrounded by hundreds of people on foot, all bearing lighted torches. A band of military music accompanied the procession; all which astonished us, as it was no fête day. When, at length, being able to pass along, we arrived at the opera, we were informed that they were carrying the viaticum to a rich acquaintance of ours, a General, who has been indisposed for some time, and whose illness has now exhibited fatal symptoms. . . .
For him, then, these great cathedral bells are tolling heavily; for him, the torches and the pompous procession—the sandalled monks, and the officers in military array; while two bands of music are playing, one at his door and another in front of the cathedral; and in the midst of these sounds of monkish hymn and military music, the soul is preparing to wing its flight, alone and unattended. . . .
But the sweet notes of the Lucia drown all other from our ears, if not from our thoughts. In a house, not many hundred yards off, they administer the Host to a dying man; while here, La Castellan, with her pretty French graces and Italian singing, is drawing tears from our eyes for fictitious sorrows.
The theatre was pretty well filled; though there were some empty boxes, sight more hideous in the eyes of actors than toothless mouths. We sat with Madame la Baronne de , and nearly opposite was Madame , related to the "Principe de la Paz," a handsome woman, with a fine Bohemian cast of face, dark in complexion, with glittering teeth,
