ed. The lightning flashed, the thunder rolled and
broke above them, and the scene became terrifying. Sparafucile placed
himself behind the door and motioned to Maddalena to open it.

"Thou art welcome," she said, throwing the door back suddenly; and as
Gilda stumbled in, Maddalena ran out and closed the gateway. The
candle went out in the gust of wind, and all was dark. Gilda stood an
instant in the blackness of the room. With one blow of the knife,
which could not be seen for the darkness, Sparafucile killed her, and
then all was silent. After a moment the storm broke away, the moon
came forth, and Rigoletto could be seen coming up the river bank.

"It is the time of my vengeance, now," he muttered to himself. He
tried the inn door and found it locked. "He cannot have done the deed
yet," he muttered. After waiting a little he knocked.

"Who's there?"

"I am known to thee," he whispered back; at this Sparafucile came out,
dragging behind him a sack.

"Bring a light," Rigoletto called, "that I may see him."

"That's all right--but you pay my money first," the cut-throat
insisted. Rigoletto impatiently paid him.

"I'll throw him into the river, myself," Rigoletto said triumphantly.

"The tide is shallow here--go farther on--and be sure no one surprises
you," Sparafucile advised. "Good night," he said shortly, and went
inside the inn. Then Rigoletto stood in the dripping road looking
gloatingly at the sack.

"I've got you at last," he chuckled, diabolically, "I have revenge for
your treatment of my daughter. My dear daughter! The child of my
heart!" At the very thought of what she had suffered the dwarf sobbed.
"I'll put my foot upon you, you noble vermin," he cried, kicking the
body in the sack. At that moment he heard a song--_La Donna e
Mobile_--The voice! Was he going mad? He knew the voice. He had heard
it only a few hours ago, in the inn--he had heard it daily at
court--_La Donna e Mobile_! He looked toward the windows of the inn.
_La Donna e Mobile!_ As he looked he saw the Duke and Maddalena step
from the window to the terrace that ran by the river bank. "_La Donna
e Mobile_," the Duke sang gaily. With a frightful cry, Rigoletto
dragged the sack open and the body of his murdered daughter rolled out
upon the road. She moved ever so little.

"Father?" and she gasped out the truth, with a dying breath, while
the dwarf shrieked and tore his hair.

"The curse, the curse! Monterone's curse!" he screamed, and