He seemed composed and cheerful--but he told them little; he devoted himself rather to questioning Fabio about their common acquaintances, about the German war, and the Emperor Charles: he spoke of his own desire to visit Rome, to see the new Pope. He again offered Valeria some Shiraz wine, and on her refusal, observed as though to himself, ‘Now it’s not needed, to be sure.’ Going back with his wife to their room, Fabio soon fell asleep; and waking up an hour later, felt a conviction that no one was sharing his bed; Valeria was not beside him. He got up quickly and at the same instant saw his wife in her night attire coming out of the garden into the room. The moon was shining brightly, though not long before a light rain had been falling. With eyes closed, with an expression of mysterious horror on her immovable face, Valeria approached the bed, and feeling for it with her hands stretched out before her, lay down hurriedly and in silence. Fabio turned to her with a question, but she made no reply; she seemed to be asleep. He touched her, and felt on her dress and on her hair drops of rain, and on the soles of her bare feet, little grains of sand. Then he leapt up and ran into the garden through the half-open door. The crude brilliance of the moon wrapt every object in light. Fabio looked about him, and perceived on the sand of the path prints of two pairs of feet--one pair were bare; and these prints led to a bower of jasmine, on one side, between the pavilion and the house. He stood still in perplexity, and suddenly once more he heard the strains of the song he had listened to the night before. Fabio shuddered, ran into the pavilion.... Muzzio was standing in the middle of the room playing on the violin. Fabio rushed up to him. ‘You have been in the garden, your clothes are wet with rain.’ ‘No ... I don’t know ... I think ... I have not been out ...’ Muzzio answered slowly, seeming amazed at Fabio’s entrance and his excitement. Fabio seized him by the hand. ‘And why are you playing that melody again? Have you had a dream again?’ Muzzio glanced at Fabio with the same look of amazement, and said nothing. ‘Answer me!’ ‘“The moon stood high like a round shield ... Like a snake, the river shines ..., The friend’s awake, the foe’s asleep ... The bird is in the falcon’s clutches.... Help!”’ muttered Muzzio, humming to himself as though in delirium. Fabio stepped back two paces, stared at Muzzio, pondered a moment ... and went back to the house, to his bedroom.