"This leads to the apartments of the signora," said our guide.
"It seems more like the lighthouse of Messina," I observed, "or the stair to a prison."
"And the poor lady has found it a prison dreary enough," continued the garrulous Italian. "Here she has dwelt for three long years, and seen but seldom the face of her husband. Cattivo! often I have heard her lamenting in the dreary nights, when I kept watch in the gallery: for this is a tower of the villa, and its window commands a view as far as to the Tacina. Then I wished that I was a noble cavalier instead of a poor serving-man, that I might free her from such thraldom. You must know, Signor Marco," and here his voice sank into a very confidential whisper, "the gay captain who used to serenade the cavalieressa at Venice did not die when the hired bravo stabbed him. The wound was inflicted by a glass poniard, and the blade was broken in the wound; it was long of being extracted, and longer of being healed: but he recovered, and is now at Catanzaro; and, having bribed Scarolla, he has made more than one attempt to carry off his mistress: but, by Excellenza's orders, we always kept such close watch——"
"Basta, forward!" exclaimed Marco, impatiently. "Do you take us for brothers of the shoulder-knot, that we are to stand here listening to your household scandal? I must see your lady without delay."
"To judge by what we hear, her women have been beforehand with you, signor," replied Varro, again taking the lead; and as a proof how little the cavalier's treatment of his wife caused her to be respected by his dependants, the sbirro threw open her chamber-door, and without knock or warning ushered us unceremoniously in.
The apartment was elegant: through parted hangings of blue silk and gold, festooned between columns of white marble rising from vases of green jasper, was revealed an inner chamber, where stood a couch formed like a large gilded shell; above it drooped drapery of white satin, edged with the richest lace. Books, music, mandolins, were scattered about, together with work-baskets, flowers, and various gewgaws: everything that taste, wealth, or luxury could wish were there—save happiness. Sadly pale were the careworn but beautiful features of the lady, and strongly they contrasted with the plump, red cheek of her robust Calabrian waiting-woman; who stuck close to her skirts on our entrance.
She started, shook back the heavy ringlets from her snowy brow, and gazed upon us with dark but brilliant eyes, which expressed more astonishment than grief.
"Despina Vignola," exclaimed Castelermo, as he started back apace, and regarded her with a glance rather of deep sorrow than wonder. "Ah, Despina! how little could I once have dreamed we should have met here, and greeted each other thus!"
She gazed alternately at the dark but handsome features of the cavaliere and the broad black velvet cross on the breast of his scarlet uniform; and her glance of wonder gradually changed to one of confusion, recognition, and anger: she covered her blushing features with her pale hand, but for an instant only, and then looking up with an air of hauteur, said—
"This meeting is quite as unexpected to me as it may be to you, Signori Cavalieri. How is it that you have this night slain my dear husband, the Signor Galdino; and within his own house of Belcastro?"