The Man Who Sees Ghosts Read Free

displayed the very picture of a day in May—charming gardens and countless numbers of tasteful country houses adorning bothbanks of the Brenta—at our backs Venice in her majesty with a hundred towers and masts rising up out of the water—all this presented us with the the loveliest spectacle the world could offer. We abandoned ourselves completely to the magic of this beautiful natural scene, falling into the liveliest of moods with even the Prince abandoning his earnestness and joining us in seeing who could outdo the others in light-hearted jests. When we disembarked several miles, by Italian reckoning, from the city, the sound of merry music came drifting to us from a small village where the people were holding their annual fair; the place was swarming with all kinds of folk. A troop of young girls and boys, all dressed up in costumes, welcomed us with a pantomime dance. This was highly original and every movement was informed with ease and grace. When the dance was nearly over, the girl who was leading it and playing a queen seemed suddenly to be brought to a halt by some invisible hand. She stood there bereft of life, as did everyone else. The music fell silent. In the whole assembly not a whisper could be heard while she stood there in a deep trance with her eyes fixed to the ground. Then suddenly she leapt back into life with the fire of inspiration, looking about her wildly—“A King is among us,” she cried, tore off the crown on her head and laid it—at the feet of the Prince. At this point everyone present turned to look at him and, being so taken in by the moving sincerity of this actress, wavered for a long time in doubt as to whether there was any meaning in this charade. Finally the silence was broken by the sound of clapping in a general applause. I sought out the Prince. His dismay, asI observed, was not inconsiderable and he was making every effort to avoid meeting the stares of the onlookers. He threw some money amongst the children and hastened to escape out of the throng.
    We had taken but a few steps when a barefoot friar, making his way through the crowd, placed himself in the Prince’s path. “Sire,” said the monk, “give the Madonna of your riches—you will need her prayers.” He spoke this in a tone that we found disconcerting. He was swept away in the surge of people.
    In the meantime our company had grown in number. We were now joined by an English lord whom the Prince had already seen in Nice, some merchants from Livorno, a German canon, a French Abbot along with some ladies, and a Russian officer. There was something so remarkable about the latter’s physignomy that it drew our attention. Never have I seen jostling together in one human face so many traits and yet so little character, so much endearing kindness alongside so much repelling coldness. All the passions seemed to have once suffused and then to have abandoned it. All that was left was the quiet, penetrating gaze of a complete connoisseur of men, which intimidated everyone it lighted on. This strange man followed us from afar but appeared to take but a casual interest in all the proceedings.
    We came to a booth where a lottery was being drawn. The ladies entered the draw and we followed their example; the Prince also demanded a ticket. He won a snuff-box. When he opened it, I saw him blanch and recoil in shock.—The key lay inside it.
    “What is this?” the Prince said to me when we foundourselves alone for a moment. “A higher power pursues me, omniscience hovers about me. An invisible being which I cannot escape watches over my every step. I must seek out the Armenian and have him throw light on this.”
    The sun was nearly setting when we arrived in front of the summer-house where dinner was being served. The name of the Prince had swelled our company to sixteen persons. Apart from those mentioned already, we had been joined by a virtuoso from Rome, some Swiss and an adventurer from Palermo, Sicily, who was in