The party were simply the count and his daughter, an Austrian gentleman of their acquaintance, and the dear baroness--that sympathetic woman who broke so many hearts and cared not at all for the chatter of the people.
Everyone has seen her, with her slim, graceful ways, and her face that was like a mulatto peach for darkness and fineness, and her dark eyes and tiger-lily look.

They say she lived entirely on sweetmeats and coffee, and it is no wonder she was so sweet and so dark.

She called me "count"-- which is very foolish now, but if I were going to fall in love, I would have loved her.

I would not love a statue.

As for the Austrian gentleman, it is not of any importance to describe him.
These four people Nino conducted to the little entrance at the back of the Pantheon, and the sacristan struck a light to show them the way to the door of the church.