Signor Avenza had evidently learned these choice English phrases for the purposes of his profession. While this lesson in philology was going on the Marchese had opened the door leading into the room where Pallanza was concealed, and called to us to enter. Both the doctor and myself, obeying the summons, went through the bedroom, and soon found ourselves by the couch, whereon lay the still form of the young man, with that terrible death-in-life look on his white face. "See, Avenza, this is what I spoke about," said Beltrami, holding up a small phial filled with a red liquid. "It is the antidote to the poison which this Pallanza was foolish enough to take." "And all through a love disappointment," replied Avenza, lifting his eyes. "Ah! the poor young man!" I now began to see the kind of story Beltrami had told Avenza to account for the condition of Pallanza, and I must say it did credit to his powers of invention. "The amount of the poison he took was ten drops." went on Beltrami, uncorking the bottle, "so it will require ten drops of this antidote to revive him, but when the life is once more in him I suppose he will be weak." "Most certainly," answered Avenza, nodding his head, "since you say he has been like this for nearly a week. But proceed, Marchese, I am anxious to see the result of this antidote." Beltrami bent over the face of the unconscious man, and forced the teeth slightly apart with a spoon he held in his left hand. Having done this, he poised the bottle over the pale lips, and began to pour the red liquid drop by drop into the mouth. Both Avenza and myself bent forward eagerly to watch the operation, and held our breaths with anxiety as the Marchese counted, slowly,-- "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten!" The body made no movement, and Beltrami drew back, looking somewhat anxious. "Dio! I am afraid ten drops are not enough!" "Wait," said Avenza, taking his watch out of his pocket, and placing his fingers on the pulse of the seemingly-dead man. "You cannot expect this antidote to act at once." The minutes passed slowly, and we all three remained with our eyes eagerly watching for some sign of life on that still face, while Avenza occasionally glanced at his chronometer. "His pulse beats," he said at length in a low voice, "faintly, it is true, but still it beats." I heaved a sigh of relief, but Beltrami remained silently looking at the face of Pallanza with an anxious frown. "She cannot have given him fifteen," he muttered under his breath, "if So, he would have been dead by this time; but his pulse beats, so he is alive." He looked irresolutely at the phial in his hand, and then turned to Avenza, who Was still counting the feeble pulsation of the blood. "Doctor, I will give him three more drops!" "Eh! and why not?" replied Avenza, raising his eye-brows; "as that is an antidote a few drops more or less cannot kill him after the dose of poison he has taken."