For myself, standing there in the perfumed atmosphere, with the light just showing the intense gloom, the dim glitter of gold and silver, the absolute stillness and the horrible memories of the chamber--I felt as though I were in the presence of the dead. At the table sat the phantoms of Donna Renata and her lover, smiling at one another with hatred in their ghostly hearts; at the door watched the evil face of the outraged husband awaiting the consummation of the tragedy; and in imagination I could see the wicked smile of the woman, the scowl of the husband, the loathing look on the face of the lover. My breath, coming quick and fast, made the flame of the candle flicker and flare until, overcome by the horror of the room, and by the workings of my imagination, I turned and fled--fled from the evil gloom, from that blood-stained splendour, out into the blessed sunshine and pure air of heaven. "Dio!" cried Peppino, as I walked quickly out into the square, "how pale you are, Illustrious! Eh, Signore, have the ghosts----" "I have seen no ghosts, Peppino, but I have felt their presence." "Cospetto! did I not warn the Signore against the accursed place? Come, Illustrious, jump in and we will leave this abode of devils." "Very well, Peppino," I replied, entering the fiacre, "but drive slowly, as I want to know the way to this palazzo." "Dio! the Signore will not come again?" "Yes! I am coming some night this month." "Saints! the Signore is mad and lost!" muttered Peppino with a pale face. Then, hastily gathering up the reins, he drove rapidly away from the lonely square, leaving this gruesome palace to the night and to the feast of ghosts. CHAPTER VII. AT THE TEATRO EZZELINO.