arket-gardens, small groups of
houses stood here and there, more or less alike, but generally in the
neighbourhood of the ancient churches which had been built before the
city was unpeopled in the Middle Ages. Ortensia was not in the least
surprised when the carriage stopped before a decent-looking little
house, after ascending a steep hill. Gambardella opened the carriage and
got out to help her down.

'Are you quite sure that you do not mind being left alone here for a
while?' he asked, as he unlocked the door of the house, and held it open
for her to go in.

'If you can give me a light I shall not mind being alone at all,'
Ortensia answered, and she went in.

He followed her at once, shut the door behind him to keep out the chilly
breeze, and began the process of getting a light with flint and steel
and tinder and one of those wooden matches dipped in sulphur, which had
then been recently invented. By the sparks he made Ortensia saw that he
was standing beside an old marble table on which stood a brass lamp with
a three-cornered bowl that slid up and down on a stem.

The place had the peculiar odour of small Italian houses that are built
of stone, that stand in vineyards or market-gardens, and that are rarely
opened; it is a smell compounded of the odour of the worm-eaten
furniture, smoke-stained kitchen ceiling and wall, and the dusty plaster
within the house, combined with a faint sub-odour of growing things,
from vines to broccoli, which finds its way through the cracks of badly
fitting doors and windows.

When there was light at last, Ortensia saw that she was in a commonplace
little whitewashed vestibule, from which a single flight of stone stairs
led directly to the door of the living rooms above. Gambardella went up
first, holding the brass lamp low down for her to see the steps. The
room into which he led her had a Venetian pavement, and was sufficiently
well furnished. The walls were painted to represent views which were
presumably visible from the windows by day.

'Are you quite sure there is no one in the house?' asked Ortensia, who
liked the prospect of solitude less and less as the time for being left
alone came nearer.

'There is a bedroom at each end,' answered Gambardella. 'You shall see
for yourself. Above this there is a sort of attic which can only be
reached from outside by steps that also lead to a terrace on the roof.'

He showed her the two bedrooms, which had evidently been just clean