My friend Beltrami and myself were the antithesis of one another in character, as he had a great deal of the subtle craft of the old Italian despot about him; yet somehow we got on capitally together, perhaps by the law of contrast, and when he returned to Italy I was sorry to see the last of him. I promised to some day visit him at his palazzo in Florence, and fully intended to do so before leaving Italy; but here was Verona, and here, by the intervention of chance, was the Marchese, as suave, as subtle-faced, and as handsome as ever. He appeared to be delighted to see me, and as I was a stranger in a strange land, I was glad to find at least one familiar face. In response to his request I told him about the death of my father, of my determination to study singing, and the circumstances which had led me to Verona, to all of which Beltrami listened attentively, and at the conclusion of my story shook hands with me again. "Ebbene! my friend Hugo, I am glad to see you in our Italy. As you see, I serve the King and am stationed in his dismal palace, so while you are here I will make things pleasant. Ecco!" "No, no! my dear Marchese, I know what you mean by making things pleasant. I have come here to work, not to play." "Dame, mon ami! too much work is bad." "Eh, Marchese, and too much play is worse; but tell me how have you been since I saw you last?" "Oh, just the same; I am as poor as ever, but soon I will be rich!" "Bravo, Beltrami! Is your uncle, the Cardinal, dead?" "My uncle, the Cardinal, is immortal," replied the Marchese cynically. "No, he still lives in the hope to succeed to the Fisherman's Chair. I am going to be married!" "I congratulate you." "Eh, Hugo, I think you will when you see the future Marchesa! She is in the theatre to-night. I am engaged to marry her, and as she takes my friends for her own, come with me and I will introduce you." I drew back, as I wanted to watch the Contessa Morone, and if I went to Beltrami's box I would perhaps lose sight of her. "You must excuse me, Signor Luigi, because--because you see I am not in evening dress." It was the best excuse I could think of, but, being a very weak one, Beltrami laughed, and, slipping his arm into mine, dragged me along the corridor. "Sapristi! you talk like a child. You are my friend. Signora Morone will be delighted to see you. She adores the English." "Madame Morone!" I exclaimed, thunderstruck. "Yes, the Contessa! Do you know her by sight? Mon Dieu! is she not beautiful? You shall speak the English to her. She loves your foggy islanders." I was so bewildered by the chance thrown in my way of finding out if the Contessa Morone had anything to do with the burial-ground episode, that I only replied to Beltrami's chatter by an uneasy laugh, and suffered myself to be led unresistingly along.