In those days, as in the present, there was situated, somewhere or other in the garden, farm, or podere of every Italian villa, sometimes hid among the fig-trees, olives, or mulberries, sometimes planted close to one of the gates of the inclosing walls, a neat farm-house, the abode of the contadino, who dwelt there usually in much more happiness and security than attended his lords and masters in their more magnificent abodes. It is true that occasionally a little violence might be brought down upon the heads of the family, by any extraordinary beauty in a daughter or a niece, or any very ferocious virtue upon the parents' part; but, sooth to say, I fear me much that, since the times of Virginius, Italian fathers have not looked with very severe eyes upon affairs of gallantry between their daughters and men of elevated station, nor have the young ladies themselves been very scrupulous in accepting the attentions of well-born cavaliers. The inconveniences resulting from such adventures apart, the life of an Italian peasant was far more safe and far more happy in those days than the life of a noble or a citizen, and Sismondi has justly pointed out that they were more contented with their lot, and had more cause for content, than any other class in the land. No very heavy exactions pressed upon them; their lords were generally just, and even generous; and it rarely happened that they saw their harvests wasted even by the wandering bands, whose leaders wisely remembered that they and their soldiers must depend upon those harvests for support. The house of a contadino has less changed than almost any other building in Italy. There was always a certain degree of taste displayed in its construction, and there was always one room a good deal larger than any of the rest, with plenty of air blowing through it, to which, when the sun shone too strongly under the porch, any of the family could retire _per pigliar la fresca_. It was in this large room at the farm, in the gardens of the villa, that, at an early hour of the day which succeeded the death of Buondoni, a strange sight might be seen. The door was locked and barred, and from time to time each of those within--and there were several--turned a somewhat anxious, fearful look towards it or to the windows, as if they were engaged in some act for which they desired no witnesses. Two women, an old and a young one, stood at the head of a long table; a second girl was seen at the side; a young man was near the other end, holding a large, heavy bucket in his hand; and at some distance from all the rest, with his arms folded on his chest and somewhat gloomy disapproving brow, was the contadino himself, gazing at what the others were about, but taking no part therein himself.