He was interrupted by a low sound, which seemed, to his distracted fancy, to proceed from a dying person. Paulo also heard it; he started, and they both listened with intense and almost intolerable expectation.
"Ah!" said Paulo, at length, "it was only the wind."
"It was no more," said Vivaldi; "proceed therefore."
"From the period of this strange confession," resumed Paulo, "Father Ansaldo was never properly himself; he"——
"Doubtless the crime confessed related to himself," observed Vivaldi.
"Why, no, Signor, I never heard that that was the case; and some remarkable circumstances, which followed, seemed to prove it otherwise. About a month after the time I have mentioned, on the evening of a sultry day, when the monks were retiring from the last service"——
"Hark!" cried Vivaldi.
"I hear whispers," said Paulo, whispering himself.
"Be still!" said Vivaldi.
They listened attentively, and heard a murmuring, as of voices; but could not ascertain whether they came from the adjoining vault, or arose from beneath the one in which they were. The sound returned at intervals; and the persons who conversed, whatever they were, seemingly restrained their voices, as if they feared to be heard. Vivaldi considered whether it were better to discover himself, and call for assistance, or to remain still.