"That is what they call him here, Signora," replied Bianca proudly; "but, indeed, it was kind of you to aid him. I wonder Guiseppe never spoke to me about you, for he never forgets a kindness." "Ah! I'm afraid some men have not much gratitude," said Madame Beltrami with a laugh. "Never mind, when Signor Pallanza comes in you will see he has not forgotten me." "He could hardly do that, Madame," answered Bianca, looking with honest admiration at the splendid beauty of the woman before her. "Had I seen you before I would always have remembered you! But--it is so strange!" "What is strange, Signora?" "I do not recognize your face, and yet I seem to have heard your voice before." "Possibly!" said the Marchesa indifferently. "I go about a good deal." "Were you ever in Verona?" Madame Beltrami was startled for the moment at this apparently innocent question, but recovered her self-possession in a moment, and laughed gaily in a rather forced fashion,-- "Yes, Signora! I lived there a long time with my first husband, Count Giorgio Morone." "Morone!" cried Bianca, starting to her feet with a cry of alarm. "Oh! Madame, do you know that palace?" The Marchesa saw that she had made a mistake by mentioning that fatal name, but with iron nerve opened a fan she had hanging to her girdle and fanned herself slowly. "Of course I do," she answered quietly; "it belongs to the family of my late husband, and is said to be haunted." Bianca shivered. "So it is! so it is!" she muttered in a fearful tone. "I have been in that room. Signor Hugo took me there." "Signor Hugo!" repeated the Marchesa reflectively. "I think I have heard my husband speak of that gentleman. He is English, is he not?" "Yes, Madame. A great friend of my husband's. A terrible thing happened to Guiseppe at Verona! Oh! a terrible thing. And that room, that fearful room! Dio! I shall never forget it." "You are trembling, Signora! You are ill," cried Madame Beltrami, rising to her feet and crossing quickly to the table before the curtain behind which we were concealed. "Let me give you some wine." "No, no! thank you. I am quite well!" said Bianca, going to the window and opening it. "It is only the heat. The fresh air will do me good." "A glass of wine will be better," replied the Marchesa, pouring out a glass of Chianti. I felt myself seized with a kind of vertigo at seeing this demon take from her breast a small bottle and empty the whole contents of it into the glass. I would have cried out only the voice of Bianca arrested me,-- "I am perfectly well, Madame; but will you not take some wine yourself, since the day is so warm?" "Certainly, if you will drink with me!" said Madame Beltrami, turning round with a calm smile; "but indeed the wine will do you good, you seem to faint." She poured out another glass of the Chianti for herself, and was about to take the fatal drink to Bianca, when the latter called quickly from the window,--