In spite of the heat, so eerie was the aspect of the night that I drew my cloak around me with a shiver of nervous fear, and leaving the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele, hastened along the Via Pallone, in the direction of the Ponte Aleardi. I arrived there just as the clock of St. Fermo sounded the three-quarters, and as Beltrami was not yet at the meeting place, I leaned on the balustrade of the bridge and watched the grey waters swirling under the fitful light of the moon. I could not help thinking of the strange events which had taken place since I had last occupied the same position--the antique chamber with its associations of love and crime--the Teatro Ezzelino, where I had beheld the phantom of Lucrezia Borgia--the grief and pain of poor little Bianca, and the extraordinary-conversation I had held with Beltrami a few hours before. It was all most unreal and feverish, this mediaeval intrigue into which I had been drawn; and I question if any student of singing had ever before been involved in such a bizarre adventure--an adventure which I hoped and prayed and trusted would end to-night. Buried in these sombre reflections I did not hear the sound of approaching footsteps, and it was only when I felt a hand on my shoulder that I turned round, with a sudden start, to see the Marchesa standing beside me wrapped in his military cloak, and accompanied by a man who waited a little way off in respectful silence. "Bravo, Signor Hugo!" cried the Marchesa in a cheerful tone, "you have been waiting long?" "About a quarter of an hour. So you have not obtained the key, Beltrami?" "Unfortunately I have not! However, here is Matteo, and I daresay we shall manage to get the door open in some way. Come, Caro," continued Beltrami, taking my arm, "we have no time to lose. Ecco!" I do not believe Beltrami had any nerves, for the whole way to the burial-ground he chatted cheerfully about the antidote, the Contessa and the tenor, not appearing to be at all impressed with the solemnity of the affair. What Matteo felt I do not know, as he never opened his mouth, but glided after us like a shadow, until we arrived at the broken wall. The Marchesa climbed over first, his long sabre clashing heavily against the stones as he jumped down on the other side. I followed without delay, and Matteo, having joined us, we went on through the dense shade of the cypress trees, until we arrived at the forbidding-looking tomb, the sight of which put me in mind of my uncanny adventure. Beltrami, undeterred by the flaming sword of the guardian angel, tried the iron door, on the chance that it might be unlocked; but finding it fast closed, signed to Matteo to get to work at once. Without a word the man obeyed, and as the moon was now shining down in her full splendour, he could see perfectly well, without the aid of artificial light, for, although he carried a torch, Beltrami did not wish it lighted, in case the glare should attract attention.