nd what
is remarkable, it invariably took place precisely one hour before midnight;
although the Neapolitans have the Italian way of keeping time according to
which midnight forms no remarkable division. At length the shooting grew
as familiar as the voice had formerly been, and this innocent malice of
the spirit was forgiven him. The report often took place without
disturbing the company, or even interrupting their conversation.

One evening, after a very sultry day, Antonelli, without thinking of the
approaching hour, opened the window, and stepped with the Marquess on the
balcony. But a few moments had elapsed, when the invisible gun was
discharged, and both were thrown back into the room with a violent shock.
On recovering, the Marquess felt the pain of a smart blow on his right
check; and the singer, on her left. But no other injury being received,
this event gave rise to a number of merry observations. This was the last
time she was alarmed in her house, and she had hopes of being at last
entirely rid of her unrelenting persecutor, when one evening, riding out
with a friend, she was once more greatly terrified. They drove through the
Chiaja, where the once-favoured Genoese had resided. The moon shone bright.
The lady with her demanded, "Is not that the house where Mr. ---- died?"
"It is one of those two, if I am not mistaken," replied Antonelli. That
instant the report burst upon their ears louder than ever; the flash
issuing from one of the houses, seemed to pass through the carriage. The
coachman supposing they were attacked by robbers, drove off in great haste.
On arriving at the place of destination, the two ladies were taken out in
a state of insensibility.

This was, however, the last scene of terror. The invisible tormentor now
changed his manner, and used more gentle means. One evening, soon after, a
loud clapping of hands was heard under her window. Antonelli, as a
favourite actress and singer, was no stranger to these sounds; they
carried in them nothing terrifying, and they might be ascribed to one of
her admirers. She paid little attention to it; her friends, however, were
more vigilant, they sent out spies as formerly. The clapping was heard,
but no one was to be seen; and it was hoped that these mysterious doings
would soon entirely cease.

After some evenings the clapping was no longer heard, and more agreeable
sounds succeeded. They were not properly melodious, but unspeakably
delightful and agre