ry
concise and brief--I knew, while writing, that they would not be
needed. Still--for the sake of form I wrote--and sealing the document,
I directed it to the Duke di Marina. I looked at my watch--it was past
one o'clock and Vincenzo had not yet returned. I went to the window,
and drawing back the curtains, surveyed the exquisitely peaceful scene
that lay before me. The moon was still high and bright--and her
reflection made the waters of the bay appear like a warrior's coat of
mail woven from a thousand glittering links of polished steel. Here and
there, from the masts of anchored brigs and fishing-boats gleamed a few
red and green lights burning dimly like fallen and expiring stars.
There was a heavy unnatural silence everywhere--it oppressed me, and I
threw the window wide open for air. Then came the sound of bells
chiming softly. People passed to and fro with quiet footsteps--some
paused to exchange friendly greetings. I remembered the day with a sort
of pang at my heart. The night was over, though as yet there was no
sign of dawn--and--it was Christmas morning!

CHAPTER XXV.

The opening of the room door aroused me from my meditations. I
turned--to find Vincenzo standing near me, hat in hand--he had just
entered.

"Ebbene!" I said, with a cheerful air--"what news?"

"Eccellenza, you have been obeyed. The young Signor Ferrari is now at
his studio."

"You left him there?"

"Yes, eccellenza"--and Vincenzo proceeded to give me a graphic account
of his adventures. On leaving the banqueting-room, Ferrari had taken a
carriage and driven straight to the Villa Romani--Vincenzo,
unperceived, had swung himself on to the back of the vehicle and had
gone also.

"Arriving there," continued my valet, "he dismissed the fiacre--and
rang the gate-bell furiously six or seven times. No one answered. I hid
myself among the trees and watched. There were no lights in the villa
windows--all was darkness. He rang it again--he even shook the gate as
though he would break it open. At last the poor Giacomo came, half
undressed and holding a lantern in his hand--he seemed terrified, and
trembled so much that the lantern jogged up and down like a
corpse-candle on a tomb.

"'I must see the contessa,' said the young signor, Giacomo blinked like
an owl, and coughed as though the devil scratched in his throat.

"'The contessa!' he said. 'She is gone!'

"The signor then threw himself upon Giacomo and shook him to and fro as
t