At that moment the clock struck half past eleven, and Gilda was frantic with fear. Maddalena was in tears, fearing that no one would come along, in that storm, so late at night.
"If no one comes!" Gilda thinks shudderingly. "Oh, how shall I save him?" But no sooner had she that thought than a desperate plan entered her mind. She would go into the inn! She was dressed like a young man and no one would ever know the difference in the darkness and the storm. She would go in and the Duke would be spared. Then she waited a moment, overcome with the fear of death; finally, summoning all her courage, she knocked against the door.
"Who's there?" Both Maddalena and Sparafucile exclaimed, looking in terror at each other. The knock was sudden and ominous. Then another knock.
"Who's there?" again he called.
"A stranger, caught in the storm. Will you give me shelter?" Gilda could hardly speak, with terror. Maddalena and the murderer looked at each other significantly. They knew well what they would do the moment the door was opened. The lightning flashed, the thunder rolled and broke above them, and the scene became terrifying. Sparafucile placed himself behind the door and motioned to Maddalena to open it.
"Thou art welcome," she said, throwing the door back suddenly; and as Gilda stumbled in, Maddalena ran out and closed the gateway. The candle went out in the gust of wind, and all was dark. Gilda stood an instant in the blackness of the room. With one blow of the knife, which could not be seen for the darkness, Sparafucile killed her, and then all was silent. After a moment the storm broke away, the moon came forth, and Rigoletto could be seen coming up the river bank.
"It is the time of my vengeance, now," he muttered to himself. He tried the inn door and found it locked. "He cannot have done the deed yet," he muttered. After waiting a little he knocked.
"Who's there?"
"I am known to thee," he whispered back; at this Sparafucile came out, dragging behind him a sack.
"Bring a light," Rigoletto called, "that I may see him."