I hardly recognised my own voice, so hoarse and broken did it sound, stealing in a whisper from between my dry lips. She still looked at me steadily, and I felt fascinated with dread by the snake-like glare of those cruel eyes. "When were you here, Signor?" "On Monday night!" "And you saw--nothing," she said in a meaning tone. "Yes!" I replied, lifting my head boldly, "I saw you receive Guiseppe Pallanza, and I saw you give him the poisoned cup!" She gave a cry of rage like a trapped animal, and made a step forward, but restraining herself with a powerful effort, sank into a chair and leaned her elbow on the table. Dressed in heavy black garments of velvet and silk, she looked more like the Borgia than ever, and the ruby necklace she constantly wore flashed forth rays of red fire in the glimmer of the tremulous light. "I understand now why you said Guiseppe Pallanza would not come back," she said with a scornful smile. "I thought last night you knew more than you told. Eh! Signor, and it was you who sang at the door of the Ezzelino." "Yes, it was I." "Meddlesome Englishman that you are, do you not fear that I will treat you as I treated that false one?" "No! I mistrust your wine!" "True, Signor Machiavella! forewarned is forearmed. So you came here to look for Pallanza?" "I came to look for his body, Madame Morone, but I do not know where it is." "No; nor will you find it. And who is this woman?" "Guiseppe's betrothed." The Contessa gave a cry of rage, and, rising from her seat, rushed towards the unconscious girl where she lay in the darkness. Owing to her singular gift she needed no light to see by, but examined the face of her rival minutely in the gloom. I had stepped forward, fearing lest, carried away by jealous anger, she should do the poor child an injury; but such was not her intention, for after a minute's examination, she arose from her stooping position with a burst of wicked laughter. "So it was for this white-faced thing that he was going to leave me--me, Giulietta Morone! Eh, I feel much flattered at having such a rival. Why is she here, Signor Hugo?" "To find Pallanza," I replied shortly. "She will never find him; he is lost to her for ever. But," she added, with a wicked smile, "I am not afraid of your betraying me, Signor Hugo. I am not afraid of this poor fool, who thought to take Guiseppe from me, so I will revenge myself." "Revenge yourself?" "Yes; I have said it. You came here like a thief in the night, and saw what you were not meant to see. She comes in the daylight to seek her lover. Well, she shall see him. Wait till she revives, and I will blast her eyes with the sight of what he is now." "You are a demon!" "I am a wronged woman, whom a man sought to deceive. Ecco! Behold, then, Englishman that you are, how we Italian women revenge ourselves!"