“I traveled day and night,” Gilardoni went on. “Such little property as I had I sold, realizing a moderate sum of money, for I needed resources in my pursuit, and knew that the pretty, happy nest could never be the same to me again. My information, gleaned grain by grain, proved correct. She was at Turin. Step by step, slowly, laboriously, with the patience of an Indian, I tracked her out. “My ardent love was then undergoing a change, and I felt deep anger against her for her utter indifference to me, for her rank defiance of my wishes, of my lawful authority. I discovered her living in an obscure suburb with an old attendant. Every stratagem I used to obtain an interview with her failed. I tried to bribe the old servant, or duenna, or governess, and she first flung my money contemptuously in my face, and then banged the gates. I wrote, but could not tell whether my letters reached the cruel hands of my treacherous wife. “I watched the doors of her house, but in vain, for I afterward found that she rarely quitted the house, and then by a small gate at the end of the large garden, which led into a sheltered lane little frequented. Her singing-master entered by this gate, and as I was ignorant that there was any way of obtaining admittance except by the iron gates in the front of the house, I was baffled in my object of waylaying and questioning him. By dint of inquiring ceaselessly, I found out where he lived, and one day I went to his house, and confronted him.” “And the result?” “I demanded of him my wife--he laughed at me and my reproaches, entreaties, and threats. At last he menaced me--said that if I again annoyed him he would hand me over to the authorities as a dangerous lunatic. He professed to know nothing of the person I asked for. In spite of my fury, I had the sense to think that perhaps my wife had given him a name other than her own or mine. I endeavored to reasonably explain the circumstances of her flight. He sneered at me for an idiot, or an impostor, and coolly showed me the door. I thank Heaven I did not slay him in my frenzy and despair.” “Then did you ever see the woman--your wife--again?” “By accident, I discovered the existence of the little gate at the back of the house. I was passing down the shaded lane, and noticed the gate open. The idea of its belonging to the house where my wife was staying did not occur to me at the moment. I happened to glance through, and the wild beauty and luxuriance of the large garden attracted my eyes. I stood for some minutes inhaling the delicious odor of the flowers, when I heard a step, and the rustle of feminine garments.