The man looked at her surprised and troubled. Her bony limbs, the gray locks which fell upon her cheeks, her large mouth and long teeth, made her appear to his eyes a hideous being, a worthy companion for Bufferio. He listened to the sound of her receding steps, until he heard the key grate in the lock of the door. Then he looked around him and examined with mistrust and surprise the apartment of Bufferio and the objects it contained. The room was neither well furnished nor clean: a table, three rickety chairs, an oaken bench, a few earthenware vessels near the fireplace, and a bed, constituted all the furniture. It was not, however, these common objects which fixed the gaze of the visitor. What he could not see without shuddering, was the number of strange arms suspended all around the walls of the room. In the midst of rusty swords, sharp daggers and knives of every size and shape, he saw short clubs with iron heads, steel chains like the bit of a horse, ropes with running knots, and various other articles whose use was inexplicable to him, although he was convinced that these singular instruments were intended for no good purpose. On the table, beside the lamp, was a large knife, and near it a piece of linen and some sand for scouring, showing that the woman had been occupied in cleaning these arms when the knock at the door interrupted her. All these instruments of murder filled with terror the heart of the man who was contemplating them. He turned his eyes away from them, trembling as he reflected upon the horror of his position. However, a few moments only were left him, for the door of the house soon opened and he heard steps on the staircase. The woman entered and said: "Bufferio will soon be here. When he has the dice in his hand, it is difficult to tear him away. Nevertheless, he will come. I think, signor, that he has drank deeply. Look well to yourself, and if you value your life, do not irritate him, for he would make as little scruple of maltreating you as he would of crushing a worm. Apart from that, he is the best man in the world." She seated herself at the table, took up the knife and linen, and continued her occupation, whilst observing the stranger with a suspicious eye. He had pulled the hood of the cloak over his face and seated himself in silence, fixing his eye vaguely upon space, like a man wearied by long waiting. He was deeply agitated, and from time to time his whole frame shook. Every time that he glanced towards the table he met the penetrating look of the frightful Megæra, who, while continuing to clean the blade of the large knife, considered him from head to foot, and seemed endeavoring to discover who he was and with what intention he had come. At last, no longer able to resist his feeling of anxiety, he rose and said: "Woman, show me the way out. I have not time to wait longer. I will return to-morrow, during the day." "I hear Bufferio whistling in the street," she replied.