I had been an ardent student of Baedeker since my arrival in Italy, and from the fortified appearance of the palazzo, judged that it had been built by Michelo Sammicheli, who, according to the guide-book, was the greatest military architect of the middle ages. The building was four stories high, with long lines of narrow windows closely barred by curiously ornamented iron cages--which bulged outward,---as a protection against thieves or enemies, and the whole front was adorned with almost obliterated paintings after the style of the Genoese palaces. In addition to the brush, the chisel had done its work, and wreaths of flowers, grinning masks, nude figures of boys and girls, elaborate crests and armorial devices with fishes, birds, tritons, shells, and fruit were sculptured round the windows, along the fortified castellated top, and over the great portal. All the square in front of this splendid specimen of Renaissance art was overgrown with grass. The houses on every side were also deserted, and what with the broken windows, the empty piazza, and the closed doors, everything had a melancholy, desolate appearance, as if a curse rested upon the whole neighbourhood. Peppino evidently was of this opinion, for although it was broad daylight, and the hot sunlight poured down on the grass-grown square, yet he kept muttering prayers in a low voice; and if by chance he looked towards the Palazza, he always crossed himself with great devoutness. I was not, however, going to be baulked of my intention by any superstitious feeling on the part of an Italian cab-driver, so I ordered Peppino to tie up his horse and come with me into the palace. This modest request, however, so horrified Peppino that he absolutely squeaked with horror, like a rabbit caught in a snare. "I, Signore!" he whimpered, touching the relic on his breast. "Dio! not to be King of Italy would I go into that house! If you are wise, Signore, look and come away lest evil befall you. Cospetto! Signore, remember the Frate. Think of Madonna Matilda!" "What about Madonna Matilda, Peppino?" "Eh, Illustrious, do you not know? She was a friend of his Holiness at Canossa, and, though a woman, wanted to celebrate mass, but Il Cristo burnt her to ashes with fire from above!--and she died. Ecco! Cospetto! Signore, it is foolish to meddle with holy things." "Well, you can't call this palace holy, Peppino?" "No, Illustrious. It is accursed!" replied the Italian, crossing himself, "but there is fire below as well as above, and you are a heretic." "Which means that I had better beware of the devil! eh, Peppino. Well, well; I'm not afraid, so I will enter the palace, and if you see me carried off by the ghosts, you can tell the carabinieri." "Dio! Illustrious, do not jest; but if you will go you must go. I will wait here and pray for your soul."