"Ebbene!"
"Was Count Giorgio Morone really mad?"
"Eh! I'm not sure. Every one said he was, but I did not think so. Dame! they call every man mad who has brains above his fellows, and Morone was a clever man. Though, to be sure, it was curious his hiding this poison in the vault, instead of destroying it altogether."
"That would certainly have been the wisest plan."
"Very likely, but you see, my wise Englishman, Morone had a tenderness for this child of his brain, and he could not bear to destroy his work. Oh! inventors are wonderful egotists, I assure you."
At this moment Matteo, who had been working in silence for some considerable time, approached his master.
"Eccellenza, it is open!"
"Bene!" cried Beltrami, springing to his feet, and wrapping his cloak around him again, "give me the torch. Come, Signor Hugo, let us go down, and you, Matteo, stay at the door, and see that we are not interrupted."
"Si, Eccellenza!"
Beltrami stepped cautiously into the tomb, and I followed him, then half closing the iron door so that the light might not attract attention, he fired the torch, the flame of which shot upward with a red flare and resinous odour of smoke, showing us that we stood on the top of a flight of steep steps which led downward into the darkness. A chill, humid atmosphere pervaded this abode of the dead, and seemed to penetrate into my very bones, notwithstanding the heavy cloak I wore.