Then came much moving in of goods. And I could gather this, but no more, from the conversation of those who brought it in--that it was the furniture of someone who was little loved, and only spoken of as "he" or "_il Vecchiostro_"--that he was gone on a journey, and much they cared how soon he arrived at the end of it. The boy, who was young and inquisitive, then asking whither this was that he had gone, they told him with a laugh that it was to his oldest friend, another like himself; to whom he had given his whole soul, and who would not care to part with him in a hurry. They hoped he would have a cool bed to sleep in. And when the boy hoped this too, they were very merry. But they worked hard, and brought in a great mass of furniture, which they stacked against the wall where I was, so that I was quite hidden away. There would be new fittings all through the castle now, they said. But one said no--no! it would only be in the _Vecchiostro's_ own private rooms. "'Tis done that he should be soonest forgotten," said one of them. But it was only just when they had brought in the last of it that this same one said that if ever he--this _Vecchiostro_--came back from Hell there would be all his gear ready for him. And then I saw this was some dead man's property that his successor would have put out of his sight. Then says my young boy to his father, who was the man who had sworn at the key, why did they not take the Signora's portrait down instead of leaving it there, because everyone loved her; and for his part, she kissed him once, and said he was _carino_. Then says his father, what portrait? And he answers, "In there--behind." For he had peeped in round my frame thinking he knew me again; being in fact the same that had helped to get me down in the banqueting-hall, how long since I could not say. But his father calls him a young fool not to say so before it was too late; and as for him, it was time for his supper and bed, and whoever else liked the job might move all the chairs and tables again to fish her ladyship out. And as all were of one mind they laughed over this and went noisily away. And the door was locked and I heard no more. And the darkness was darker still and the silence deeper. And I longed for the _scaraffaggio_ to come and whirr once more, and for the sweet light of the _lucciola_. But there was none such for me. And my Maddalena must be surely dead, I thought, else that young boy would tell her I was here, and she would come to find the picture Giacinto painted of her in that merry time. But I waited for her voice in vain, and had nothing for myself but the darkness and the silence.