"In-the midst of the throng," continued the prisoner, "appeared a
Franciscan monk, to whom my attention was directed by the person who sat
next to me at table. He was standing motionless like a marble pillar.
His shape was tall and thin; his face pale and ghastly; his eyes were
fixed with a grave and mournful expression on the new-married couple.
The joy which beamed on the face of every one present appeared not on
his. His countenance never once varied. He seemed like a statue among
the living. Such an object, appearing amidst the general joy, struck me
more forcibly from its contrast with everything around. It left on my
mind so indelible an impression that from it alone I have been enabled
(which would otherwise have been impossible) to recollect the features
of the Franciscan monk in the Russian officer; for, without doubt, you
must have already conceived that the person I have described was no
other than your Armenian.

"I frequently attempted to withdraw my eyes from this terrible figure,
but they wandered back involuntarily, and found his countenance
unaltered. I pointed him out to the person who sat nearest to me on the
other side, and he did the same to the person next to him. In a few
minutes a general curiosity and astonishment pervaded the whole company.
The conversation languished; a general silence succeeded; the monk did
not heed it. He continued motionless as before; his grave and mournful
looks constantly fixed upon the new-married couple; his appearance
struck every one with terror. The young countess alone, who found the
transcript of her own sorrow in the fact of the stranger, beheld with
a melancholy satisfaction the only object that seemed to understand and
sympathize in her sufferings. The crowd insensibly diminished. It was
past midnight; the music became fainter and more languid; the tapers
grew dim, and many of them went out. The conversation, declining by