The Becchino strode on, and soon arrived at a mansion. He knocked twice at the porter's entrance; an old woman cautiously opened the door. "Fear not, good aunt," said the grave-digger, "this is the young lord I spoke to thee of. Thou sayest thou hadst two ladies in the palace, who alone survived of all the lodgers, and their names were Bianca di Medici, and—what was the other?"
"Irene di Gabrini, a Roman lady. But I told thee this was the fourth day they left the house, terrified by the deaths within it."
"Thou didst so—and was there any thing remarkable in the dress of the Signora di Gabrini?"
"Yes, I have told thee, a blue mantle, such as I have rarely seen, wrought with silver."
"Was the broidery that of stars, silver stars," exclaimed Adrian, "with a sun in the centre."
"It was!"
"Alas! alas! the arms of the Tribune's family! I remember how I praised the mantle the first day she wore it—the day on which we were betrothed!" And the lover at once conjectured the secret sentiment which had induced Irene to retain so carefully a robe so endeared by association.
"You know no more of your lodgers?"
"Nothing."
"And is this all you have learnt, knave?" cried Adrian.