The path traversed by them formed a gradual descent, in parts so steep that Barbara would often have slipped but for Paul's strong arm. The murmur of the sea was now heard; a faint breeze blew coldly; finally emerging from the wood, they found themselves on an open grassy space shelving down to the beach. There, distant about a hundred yards, stood the building that they sought--Castel Nuovo. The retention of the epithet "Nuovo" was perhaps intended as a joke on the part of the Dalmatians. Like the rest of earthly things the castle must once have been new, but that once, judging by appearances, was a long time ago. The greater part of the edifice was in ruins, the stars glimmering through the vacant window spaces and through the gaps that yawned in the ivy-mantled walls. A massive, square built tower perched on a rock that overhung the sea, seemed the portion likeliest to be tenanted, if tenanted at all, for signs of human presence were wanting. Neither light nor sound came from it. Silent and ghostly in the cold starlight rose the gray tower, the sea splashing with melancholy murmur at the foot of the crag. The brief notice contained in the guide-book--"Castel Nuovo, an old mansion, residence of the Marquis Orsino"--did not suggest a place like this, a place seeming to be desolated by the curse of some past tragedy; and as Paul contemplated the scene, a feeling of misgiving stole over him,--a misgiving which found reflection in Barbara's face. Seating his companion upon a fallen column, Paul went forward to reconnoitre. Crossing the grass-grown pavement of what had once been a stately loggia, he mounted the mossy fractured steps leading to the door of the tower. On the lintel was sculptured, "Marino Faliero, 1348"--proof that the castle dated from the days when the Venetians held sway in Dalmatia. No sooner had Paul rapped upon the massive oaken door than a terrible din arose from within. His summons had startled into wakefulness a menagerie of dogs, and these, judging by their deep bass, brutes of the largest size. A casement high above the portal opened immediately, and an old man's voice cried,-- "Is that you, Master?" The question was spoken in Romaic, a language with which Paul had become familiar by reason of his residence in Corfu. He directed his eyes upward, but the speaker was invisible. Familiar perhaps with the attacks of banditti, he was too cautious to expose his person as a target for a pistol-shot. Stepping back, the better to be heard, and speaking in Romaic, the better to be understood, Paul explained his object in knocking, withholding the fact, however, that the lady with him had escaped from a convent, lest it should dispose the old man to decline so dangerous a fugitive. "You cannot stay here," was the answer, when Paul had finished speaking. "I will pay you, and that handsomely, for the trouble we give."