“What reasons were there to suppose she destroyed herself, then?” said Bertolini.—“Aye, what reasons?” said Verezzi.—“How happened it, that her remains were never found? Although she killed herself, she could not bury herself.” Montoni looked indignantly at Verezzi, who began to apologise.
“Your pardon, Signor,” said he: “I did not consider, that the lady was your relative, when I spoke of her so lightly.”
Montoni accepted the apology.
“But the Signor will oblige us with the reasons, which urged him to believe, that the lady committed suicide.”
“Those I will explain hereafter,” said Montoni: “at present let me relate a most extraordinary circumstance. This conversation goes no further, Signors. Listen, then, to what I am going to say.”
“Listen!” said a voice.
They were all again silent, and the countenance of Montoni changed. “This is no illusion of the fancy,” said Cavigni, at length breaking the profound silence.—“No,” said Bertolini; “I heard it myself, now. Yet here is no person in the room but ourselves!”
“This is very extraordinary,” said Montoni, suddenly rising. “This is not to be borne; here is some deception, some trick. I will know what it means.”
All the company rose from their chairs in confusion.
“It is very odd!” said Bertolini. “Here is really no stranger in the room. If it is a trick, Signor, you will do well to punish the author of it severely.”