Petronella made a comprehensive sweep of her arms so as to indicate the whole masculine portion of the human race, and I, seeing an opportunity of finding out what was the matter, did not attempt to defend masculine depravity in any way, but artfully asked a question,-- "I can hardly say. I don't know what you are talking about!" "Eh! has the Signore no ears? I speak of Guiseppe Pallanza!" "What, the tenor at the Teatro Ezzelino?" "Yes, Signore, he is the engaged one of the Signorina here, and----" "Enough, enough, Petronella!" cried Bianca, her face flushing. "Do not trouble the Signor with these chatterings." "Oh, it's no trouble," I replied quickly. "Perhaps I can help you, Signorina, if you require help!" "Eh, eh!" assented Petronella approvingly, "the English have long heads, piccola. Tell him all and he will find out what others cannot find out. And you, Maestro, the colezione is ready." She tenderly led the old man into the next room, and I was thus left alone with Bianca, who had retreated to the window, where she stood twisting her handkerchief with nervous confusion. "Do not tell me, Signorina, if you would rather not," I said gently. "Ah, Signore, if I thought you would be my friend!" "Certainly I will be your friend." "The Maestro is so old. Petronella is so foolish. We know none in Verona, and I can do nothing for my poor Guiseppe!" "Your lover, Signorina?" "Yes. I promised you should see him at Verona, but--now--ah now!--but perhaps you have heard him singing at the Ezzelino?" "No; I have not been to the opera since my arrival here. What is the matter with him? Is he ill?" "I know not! I know not! He is lost!" "Lost?" "Yes, Signore. My Guiseppe has disappeared and no one knows where he is!" Could there be any connection between the disappearance of Guiseppe and the death of that young man I had seen in the fatal chamber? The thought flashed across me as she spoke, but I dismissed it as idle. "And you want some one to look for Signor Pallanza?" "Yes, yes!" "Well, I will undertake the task." "You, Signore!" she cried joyfully; "will you search for him?" "Certainly, Signorina; I promised to be your friend. Now sit down, and tell me all about your lover and his disappearance. I may be able to do more for you than you think." The fact is, that by some subtle instinct I connected the disappearance of this young man with the curious events of two nights before, and, leading Bianca to a seat, I prepared to listen attentively to her recital. "Signore," she began in her flute-like voice, "I have been engaged to marry Guiseppe Pallanza for some months. He was a pupil of the Maestro, and we loved each other when we first met; but ah! Signore, he was poor then, and we could not marry, but now he is rich and famous." "Yes, I have heard of the tenor Pallanza, but have never seen him on the stage."