The little Italian looked perplexed, as he could not understand the interest I took in this sepulchre; still, seeing I was in earnest, he tried to think of the name, but evidently could not recall it. "Cospetto! Signore, I have the memory of Beppo, who forgot the mother who bore him; but the name will be here, Illustrious, for certain." "See if you can find it, Peppino," I replied, sitting down on a stone near the iron door. "I am anxious to know to whom this tomb belongs." Peppino, being more conversant with Italian tombs than myself, went to look for the name, and in a wonderfully short space of time came back with a satisfied smile on his face. "Signore, the tomb is that of the Morone." "The Morone?" "Yes, Signore, they were a great family of Verona, as great as the cursed Medici of my beautiful Florence." "And this Count, who died last year, was their descendant?" "Dio! Illustrious, he was the last of them. No father, no brother, no child. He was the last. Basta, basta!" "Had he a wife?" I asked, thinking of the woman who had emerged from this tomb. "Yes, Signore, a beautiful wife, but when he died she left Verona for Rome I heard. She is not now here." Well, I had found out the name of the family buried in the tomb, and that the wife was the sole representative of the race, so I naturally thought she was the only person who would have been able to enter the tomb; although why she did so, unless it was to pray beside the corpse of her late husband, I could not understand. Besides, Peppino, who was one of the greatest gossips in the town, said she had left Verona, so perhaps the midnight visitor was not the Contessa Morone at all. "Were the Count and Countess an attached couple, Peppino?" The Italian shrugged his shoulders. "Dio! I know not indeed," he replied carelessly; "the Signor Conte was certainly mad. I saw him at times, and he had the evil eye. Diamine! often have I made horns for that eye, Illustrious." "And the Countess, Peppino? Have you ever seen the Countess?" "No, Signore! The Conte let her not out. Ah! he was jealous, that madman. He was old and the Signora was young. Per Bacco! the husband was afraid of the handsome officers. Ecco!" A mad and jealous husband, old, too, into the bargain. With such a trinity of imperfections a young and beautiful woman could hardly be much in love with him, and, a year after his death, would certainly not have taken the trouble to pray at his tomb. No! the unknown lady could not possibly have been the Contessa. Who, then was this mysterious visitant? I had now quite got over my fancy that she was a spectre, and felt profoundly curious to find out who she was, and why she had come to this ancient burial-place at midnight. "Is there a Palazzo Morone, Peppino?" Peppino changed colour. "What do you know of the Palazzo Morone, Signore?" "Oh, there is one then!" "Yes, Illustrious! It is haunted!" "Haunted! Nonsense!"