Howeverthismightbe，hewasunquestionablytroubledbysomesecretannoyanceoranxiety，which，withallhispowersofdeception，hewasnotableentirelytoconceal。ThroughthewholeofdinnerhewasalmostassilentasSirPercivalhimself，andhe，everynowandthen，lookedathiswifewithanexpressionoffurtiveuneasinesswhichwasquitenewinmyexperienceofhim。Theonesocialobligationwhichheseemedtobeself-possessedenoughtoperformascarefullyaseverwastheobligationofbeingpersistentlycivilandattentivetome。WhatvileobjecthehasinviewIcannotstilldiscover，butbethedesignwhatitmay，invariablepolitenesstowardsmyself，invariablehumilitytowardsLaura，andinvariablesuppression(atanycost)ofSirPercival’sclumsyviolence，havebeenthemeanshehasresolutelyandimpenetrablyusedtogettohisendeversincehesetfootinthishouse。Isuspecteditwhenhefirstinterferedinourfavour，onthedaywhenthedeedwasproducedinthelibrary，andIfeelcertainofitnow。
WhenMadameFoscoandIrosetoleavethetable，theCountrosealsotoaccompanyusbacktothedrawing-room。
`Whatareyougoingawayfor？’askedSirPercival——`Imeanyou，Fosco。’
`IamgoingawaybecauseIhavehaddinnerenough，andwineenough，’
answeredtheCount。`Besokind，Percival，astomakeallowancesformyforeignhabitofgoingoutwiththeladies，aswellascominginwiththem。’
`Nonsense！Anotherglassofclaretwon’thurtyou。SitdownagainlikeanEnglishman。Iwanthalfanhour’squiettalkwithyouoverourwine。’
`Aquiettalk，Percival，withallmyheart，butnotnow，andnotoverthewine。Laterintheevening，ifyouplease——laterintheevening。’
`Civil！’saidSirPercivalsavagely。`Civilbehaviour，uponmysoul，toamaninhisownhouse！’
IhadmorethanonceseenhimlookattheCountuneasilyduringdinner-time，andhadobservedthattheCountcarefullyabstainedfromlookingathiminreturn。Thiscircumstance，coupledwiththehost’sanxietyforalittlequiettalkoverthewine，andtheguest’sobstinateresolutionnottositdownagainatthetable，revivedinmymemorytherequestwhichSirPercivalhadvainlyaddressedtohisfriendearlierintheday，tocomeoutofthelibraryandspeaktohim。TheCounthaddeferredgrantingthatprivateinterview，whenitwasfirstaskedforintheafternoon，andhadagaindeferredgrantingit，whenitwasasecondtimeaskedforatthedinner-table。
Whateverthecomingsubjectofdiscussionbetweenthemmightbe，itwasclearlyanimportantsubjectinSirPercival’sestimation——andperhaps(judgingfromhisevidentreluctancetoapproachit)adangeroussubjectaswell，intheestimationoftheCount。
Theseconsiderationsoccurredtomewhilewewerepassingfromthedining-roomtothedrawing-room。SirPercival’sangrycommentaryonhisfriend’sdesertionofhimhadnotproducedtheslightesteffect。TheCountobstinatelyaccompaniedustothetea-table——waitedaminuteortwointheroom——wentoutintothehall——andreturnedwiththepost-baginhishands。Itwastheneighto’clock——thehouratwhichtheletterswerealwaysdespatchedfromBlackwaterPark。
`Haveyouanyletterforthepost，MissHalcombe？’heasked，approachingmewiththebag。
IsawMadameFosco，whowasmakingthetea，pause，withthesugar-tongsinherhand，tolistenformyanswer。
`No，Count，thankyou。Noletterstoday。’
Hegavethebagtotheservant，whowasthenintheroom；satdownatthepiano，andplayedtheairofthelivelyNeapolitanstreet-song，`LamiaCarolina，’twiceover。Hiswife，whowasusuallythemostdeliberateofwomeninallhermovements，madeteaasquicklyasIcouldhavemadeitmyself——finishedherowncupintwominutes，andquietlyglidedoutoftheroom。
Irosetofollowherexample——partlybecauseIsuspectedherofattemptingsometreacheryupstairswithLaura，partlybecauseIwasresolvednottoremainaloneinthesameroomwithherhusband。
BeforeIcouldgettothedoortheCountstoppedme，byarequestforacupoftea。Igavehimthecupoftea，andtriedasecondtimetogetaway。Hestoppedmeagain——thistimebygoingbacktothepiano，andsuddenlyappealingtomeonamusicalquestioninwhichhedeclaredthatthehonourofhiscountrywasconcerned。
Ivainlypleadedmyowntotalignoranceofmusic，andtotalwantoftasteinthatdirection。Heonlyappealedtomeagainwithavehemencewhichsetallfurtherprotestonmypartatdefiance。`TheEnglishandtheGermans(heindignantlydeclared)werealwaysrevilingtheItaliansfortheirinabilitytocultivatethehigherkindsofmusic。WewereperpetuallytalkingofourOratorios，andtheywereperpetuallytalkingoftheirSymphonies。
Didweforgetanddidtheyforgethisimmortalfriendandcountryman，Rossini？
WhatwasMosesinEgyptbutasublimeoratorio，whichwasactedonthestageinsteadofbeingcoldlysunginaconcert-room？WhatwastheoverturetoGuillaumeTellbutasymphonyunderanothername？HadIheardMosesinEgypt？WouldIlistentothis，andthis，andthis，andsayifanythingmoresublimelysacredandgrandhadeverbeencomposedbymortalman？’——
Andwithoutwaitingforawordofassentordissentonmypart，lookingmehardinthefaceallthetime，hebeganthunderingonthepiano，andsingingtoitwithloudandloftyenthusiasm——onlyinterruptinghimself，atintervals，toannouncetomefiercelythetitlesofthedifferentpiecesofmusic：`ChorusofEgyptiansinthePlagueofDarkness，MissHalcombe！’——
`RecitativoofMoseswiththetablesoftheLaw。’——`PrayerofIsraelites，atthepassageoftheRedSea。Aha！Aha！Isthatsacred？isthatsublime？’
Thepianotrembledunderhispowerfulhands，andtheteacupsonthetablerattled，ashisbigbassvoicethunderedoutthenotes，andhisheavyfootbeattimeonthefloor。
Therewassomethinghorrible——somethingfierceanddevilish——intheoutburstofhisdelightathisownsingingandplaying，andinthetriumphwithwhichhewatcheditseffectuponmeasIshranknearerandnearertothedoor。Iwasreleasedatlast，notbymyownefforts，butbySirPercival’sinterposition。Heopenedthedining-roomdoor，andcalledoutangrilytoknowwhat`thatinfernalnoise’meant。TheCountinstantlygotupfromthepiano。`AhIifPercivaliscoming，’hesaid，`harmonyandmelodyarebothatanend。TheMuseofMusic，MissHalcombe，desertsusindismay，andI，thefatoldminstrel，exhaletherestofmyenthusiasmintheopenair！’Hestalkedoutintotheverandah，puthishandsinhispockets，andresumedtheRecitativoofMoses，sottovoce，inthegarden。
IheardSirPercivalcallafterhimfromthedining-roomwindow。Buthetooknonotice——heseemeddeterminednottohear。Thatlong-deferredquiettalkbetweenthemwasstilltobeputoff，wasstilltowaitfortheCount’sabsolutewillandpleasure。
Hehaddetainedmeinthedrawing-roomnearlyhalfanhourfromthetimewhenhiswifeleftus。Wherehadshebeen，andwhathadshebeendoinginthatinterval？
Iwentupstairstoascertain，butImadenodiscoveries，andwhenI
questionedLaura，Ifoundthatshehadnotheardanything。Nobodyhaddisturbedher，nofaintrustlingofthesilkdresshadbeenaudible，eitherintheante-roomorinthepassage。
Itwasthentwentyminutestonine。Aftergoingtomyroomtogetmyjournal，Ireturned，andsatwithLaura，sometimeswriting，sometimesstoppingtotalkwithher。Nobodycamenearus，andnothinghappened。Weremainedtogethertillteno’clock。Ithenrose，saidmylastcheeringwords，andwishedhergoodnight。ShelockedherdooragainafterwehadarrangedthatIshouldcomeinandseeherthefirstthinginthemorning。
Ihadafewsentencesmoretoaddtomydiarybeforegoingtobedmyself，andasIwentdownagaintothedrawing-roomafterleavingLauraforthelasttimethatwearyday，Iresolvedmerelytoshowmyselfthere，tomakemyexcuses，andthentoretireanhourearlierthanusualforthenight。
SirPercival，andtheCountandhiswife，weresittingtogether。SirPercivalwasyawninginaneasy-chair，theCountwasreading，MadameFoscowasfanningherself。Strangetosay，herfacewasflushednow。She。whohadneversufferedfromtheheat，wasmostundoubtedlysufferingfromittonight。
`Iamafraid，Countess，youarenotquitesowellasusual？’Isaid。
`TheveryremarkIwasabouttomaketoyou，’shereplied。`Youarelookingpale，mydear。’
Mydear！Itwasthefirsttimeshehadeveraddressedmewiththatfamiliarity！
Therewasaninsolentsmiletooonherfacewhenshesaidthewords。
`Iamsufferingfromoneofmybadheadaches，’Iansweredcoldly。
`Ah，indeed？Wantofexercise，Isuppose？Awalkbeforedinnerwouldhavebeenjustthethingforyou。’Shereferredtothe`walk’withastrangeemphasis。Hadsheseenmegoout？Nomatterifshehad。ThelettersweresafenowinFanny’shands。
`Comeandhaveasmoke，Fosco，’saidSirPercival，rising，withanotheruneasylookathisfriend。
`Withpleasure，Percival，whentheladieshavegonetobed，’repliedtheCount。
`Excuseme，Countess，ifIsetyoutheexampleofretiring，’Isaid。
`Theonlyremedyforsuchaheadacheasmineisgoingtobed。’
Itookmyleave。Therewasthesameinsolentsmileonthewoman’sfacewhenIshookhandswithher。SirPercivalpaidnoattentiontome。HewaslookingimpatientlyatMadameFosco，whoshowednosignsofleavingtheroomwithme。TheCountsmiledtohimselfbehindhisbook。TherewasyetanotherdelaytothatquiettalkwithSirPercival——andtheCountesswastheimpedimentthistime。
June19th——Oncesafelyshutintomyownroom，Iopenedthesepages，andpreparedtogoonwiththatpartoftheday’srecordwhichwasstilllefttowrite。
FortenminutesormoreIsatidle，withthepeninmyhand，thinkingovertheeventsofthelasttwelvehours。WhenIatlastaddressedmyselftomytask，IfoundadifficultyinproceedingwithitwhichIhadneverexperiencedbefore。Inspiteofmyeffortstofixmythoughtsonthematterinhand，theywanderedawaywiththestrangestpersistencyintheonedirectionofSirPercivalandtheCount，andalltheinterestwhichItriedtoconcentrateonmyjournalcentredinsteadinthatprivateinterviewbetweenthemwhichhadbeenputoffallthroughtheday，andwhichwasnowtotakeplaceinthesilenceandsolitudeofthenight。
