ining-room door. Sir
Hercules tiptoed across the hall towards it. Just as he approached the
door there was another terrific crash of breaking glass and jangled
metal. What could they be doing? Standing on tiptoe he managed to look
through the keyhole. In the middle of the ravaged table old Simon, the
butler, so primed with drink that he could scarcely keep his balance,
was dancing a jig. His feet crunched and tinkled among the broken glass,
and his shoes were wet with spilt wine. The three young men sat round,
thumping the table with their hands or with the empty wine bottles,
shouting and laughing encouragement. The three servants leaning against
the wall laughed too. Ferdinando suddenly threw a handful of walnuts at
the dancer's head, which so dazed and surprised the little man that he
staggered and fell down on his back, upsetting a decanter and several
glasses. They raised him up, gave him some brandy to drink, thumped
him on the back. The old man smiled and hiccoughed. 'To-morrow,' said
Ferdinando, 'we'll have a concerted ballet of the whole household.'
'With father Hercules wearing his club and lion-skin,' added one of his
companions, and all three roared with laughter.

"Sir Hercules would look and listen no further. He crossed the hall once
more and began to climb the stairs, lifting his knees painfully high
at each degree. This was the end; there was no place for him now in the
world, no place for him and Ferdinando together.

"His wife was still awake; to her questioning glance he answered, 'They
are making mock of old Simon. To-morrow it will be our turn.' They were
silent for a time.

"At last Filomena said, 'I do not want to see to-morrow.'

"'It is better not,' said Sir Hercules. Going into his closet he wrote
in his day-book a full and particular account of all the events of the
evening. While he was still engaged in this task he rang for a servant
and ordered hot water and a bath to be made ready for him at eleven
o'clock. When he had finished writing he went into his wife's room, and
preparing a dose of opium twenty times as strong as that which she
was accustomed to take when she could not sleep, he brought it to her,
saying, 'Here is your sleeping-draught.'

"Filomena took the glass and lay for a little time, but did not drink
immediately. The tears came into her eyes. 'Do you remember the songs we
used to sing, sitting out there sulla terrazza in the summer-time?' She
began singing softly in her