"it is such a long story, hugo," said beltrami, a trifle maliciously, "that we must really have some wine."

"i do not want wine; i want 'the thousand and second night.'"

"bene! you shall have both."

the marchese arose and summoned his servant, who brought up a bottle of barbera, that rough-tasting wine which is so pleasant and cool in hot weather. for the sake of companionship i took some with beltrami, and haying thus attended to the duties of hospitality, he signed to his servant to withdraw, and without further preamble began his tale.

"eh, hugo, mon ami," he said, settling himself comfortably in his chair, "this would be a charming story for m. bourget, that modern balzac, who analyses the hearts of the ladies of this generation in so masterly a fashion. dame! i would like to give him madame morone's to dissect--he'd find some strange things there. yet--would you believe it?--this woman, worthy to be a sister of lucrezia borgia, came out of a convent to marry my poor friend morone."

"you knew him then?"

"ma foi! i should think so, for many years. people said he was mad, but the only mad action he committed, to my mind, was in marrying giulietta rossana."

"yet you propose to do the same thing?"

"true, but i possess a means of taming this tigress of which the unfortunate giorgio morone knew nothing. he was a great chemist, this poor count, and particularly fond of toxicology, a dangerous science with such a wife, as he found out to his cost. cospetto! i would not care myself about forging weapons for another to use against me, but that is exactly what morone did."

"she poisoned him?"

"eh! nobody says so, yet everybody thinks so. for my part, i believe the contessa capable of anything. at all events, morone died very suddenly, and was duly buried in that old ancestral vault to which his devoted wife, a year after his death, paid a visit. well, before he died, morone grew suspicious of the contessa, and as he had just invented or rediscovered a poison which left no trace of having been used, and also an antidote to the same, he determined not to give the signora an opportunity of exercising it on him, so this toxicological secret was buried with him."

"ah! i see now why she went to the graveyard. it was to get this poison."

"exactly! whether it was put in the coffin of the dead man, or merely hidden in the vault, i don't know, but we will go and see."

"to what end? she has the poison!"

"certainly! i believe that, after seeing it exercised upon pallanza; but she has not got the antidote."

"how do you know that, beltrami."

"because the contessa knows nothing of the existence of the antidote. morone talked enough about the poison itself, but he only mentioned the antidote to one man, and that was myself. you see, hugo, he thought madame might try a little of his own poison on himself, in which case i would be able to give him the antidote."

"couldn't he have taken it himself?"

"no! this poison does not kill unless given in a large quantity; five drops make you feel chill and listless; ten drops take away your senses and converts you into what i may paradoxically call a breathing corpse; but fifteen drops kill. so, if madame had given her husband fifteen drops he would have lapsed into a stupor and died, unless the antidote was given, so that is why he bestowed it on me."

"well, but she killed him after all?"

"yes, but with another poison not of home manufacture. eh! what would you, hugo, the contessa was not going to be thwarted by a husband who kept his laboratory locked. however, he tricked her over this particular poison, for he either gave instructions that it was to be put into his coffin without the knowledge of his dear wife, or he hid it himself in the vault, as he hinted to me one day he intended to do."

"there's no doubt then that the contessa went to the vault for the poison; but what about the antidote? is it in your possession?"

"unfortunately, no, mon ami. i was ordered away from verona, and gave back the antidote to the count; but on my return here, i heard casually that he had left a letter for me, to be delivered after his death. i went to rome, where the contessa was one of the ornaments of the court, and asked for the letter. of course she denied ever having heard of it."

"and what do you think was in this letter?"

"eh! ma foi, i believe it told me where the poison was hidden in the vault, and that our dear contessa found the letter, went to the vault on the night you saw her and obtained the poison."

"also the antidote?"

"dame! i'm not so sure of that. i knew about the antidote so well that i don't think morone would have mentioned it in the letter, in case it should meet the eye of his wife. no! no! mon ami! she has the poison, of course; but the antidote, i believe it is still in the vault, where we will look for it."

"for what reason?"

"diamine! to revive this devil of a tenor who has had the misfortune to take ten drops of the signora morone's mixture."

"but where is pallanza?"

"all in good time, hugo, all in good time. i must tell you the rest of the story first."

"i am all impatience, beltrami."

the marchese, i saw, was enjoying this conversation, as the subject-matter was of an involved and difficult character which appealed to the subtleties of his italian nature; and the chance of playing a part in this intrigue, worthy of the court of lorenzo di medici, delighted him beyond measure. he was, as i have said before, an anachronism, and this everyday, commonplace life of the nineteenth century offered no field for the exercise of his cunning brain and delicate diplomacy, which revelled in those bizarre complications, full of sophistry and double meanings, which distinguished the intricate statecraft of the italian republics.

"you wonder," continued the marchese reflectively; "you wonder, no doubt, after hearing my opinions about the contessa morone, that i should care to marry her; but, as i told you before, there are reasons. i am poor, she is rich, and i marry her for her money. this is brutal is it not? but then you see i look at the matter from a latin point of view, you from an english. as euclid---whom, by the way, i always hated--says, 'two parallel straight lines cannot meet,' it is no use our arguing over this point, as neither of us would convince the other. it is a question of race, hugo, nothing more. ebbene! my other reason is that i wish to tame this woman with the heart of a tigress. i am wearied of the dulness of this present life, and the task of fencing with signora morone will be a perpetual excitement, particularly as i know it will not be unattended with danger. this is also a question of race, and the theory of straight lines applies, so again we will not argue; but you can see one thing plainly, that i want to marry the contessa?"

"yes, i can see that, and i wonder at your daring."

"straight lines, for the third time, signor hugo. ebbene! although i wanted to marry the contessa, she hating and detesting me with her whole soul, as a friend of her late husband, would not listen to me at all, so as she would not go to the altar willingly, i determined to force her there. i made it my business to find out all about her life, and a devil of a life it is, i can tell you. pallanza is not the first lover this daughter of venus has smiled on."

"oh!" i broke out in disgust, "how can you think of marrying this infamous woman--a murderess, a poisoner, a fiend in human form?"

"dio! i have given you my reasons, and you, straitlaced englishman that you are, cannot understand them. however, we will talk of this again; meantime to continue. the contessa was so madly in love with pallanza, who i grant you is a handsome fellow with a charming voice, that i foresaw when he attempted to leave her there would be trouble. i discovered that he was engaged to some signorina of milan, that she was at verona, and that pallanza was going to sing at verona; so when he did arrive i was in nowise astonished at the appearance of madame morone at the ezzelino. things were coming to a climax, so i watched for the bursting of the storm. the rendezvous of these lovers would be, i knew, at the deserted palazzo morone. how did i know? mon cher ami, you are simplicity itself. have i not told you that i knew the contessa when she lived at verona with her husband, and--and--well it is not the first time she has used that palazzo and played at boccaccian stories in that room. you know she fancies herself like lucrezia borgia, and tries to imitate those picturesque feasts to which ferrara's duchess was so addicted--yes, even to the use of poison. dame! i thought i was at the opera when i saw that supper the other night."

"how did you get into the palazzo?"

"ah, that is an adventure worthy of gil bias. i filed through a bar in the gate and wrenched it out."

"i thought so, for i entered the same way!"

"i guessed as much, my friend. ebbene! i watched the palace from the time madame morone arrived in verona, and my patience was rewarded on monday night by seeing our picturesque tenor use his key and enter by the side door. i was not alone, for i greatly mistrusted madame morone should she discover me in that lonely palazzo; so, as i had two men absolutely devoted to me, i took them with me."

"they were very brave to go near that ghastly palace, considering the reputation it has."

"ma foi, they are florentines, and know nothing about verona. their ancestors have been in the service of mine for many years, and in their eyes a beltrami can do no wrong. now is that not wonderful in this present age of ducats and steam-engines?"

"so wonderful, marchese, that i can hardly believe it!"

"cospetto! it is true i tell you. these men are absolutely devoted to me, and think me a much greater man than umberto of savoy. ebbene! i posted my two men in a dark corner of the palazzo with instructions not to move until i told them; then i went after our tenor, and found him strumming on the mandolin while he awaited the arrival of the contessa."

"ah! she had gone to the burial-ground."

"yes! i did not know that until you told me. however, i hid myself behind the tapestry in the outer room and waited. the contessa arrived, and, to my surprise, you also appeared. i caught a glimpse of you at the door before that torch went out, but, of course, i did not recognise you, and was puzzled to account for your presence there. luckily, i had a bottle of chloroform in my pocket, which i took with me to the palace in case of accidents----"

"but what good would chloroform do?"

"dame! have you ever seen madame morone in a rage?"

"no!"

"then it is not a pretty sight, i can tell you. that woman is a devil, and, for all i know, might have had some one in the palace to do her bidding. if i had been found there, and taken at a disadvantage, i might have occupied that delightful pillar and never been seen again. ah! you smile, mon ami, but remember this is italy, not england, and with a woman like the contessa, who recalls the borgia times so admirably, it is always well to be prepared if she had discovered me, my chloroform might have come in useful."

"it certainly did in my case!"

"ma foi, i've told you before i did not know it was you. i only beheld a stranger, and thinking that the stranger might interfere with my plans, i stole across the ante-chamber, and when you fell back--well, i used my chloroform. then i left you lying hidden behind the tapestry, and went on watching madame morone at her borgian supper. she was dragging pallanza's body to the pillar, and, having safely shut him up there, departed with a satisfied smile on her face; so i was left alone with two apparently dead men--pallanza in the pillar, and you behind the tapestry."

"a sufficiently dramatic situation i think, marchese."

"eh! no doubt. there is more drama in life---especially in italian life--than people think, and there are even stranger events than this comedy of the palazzo morone take place in our midst."

"from what i have seen of your people, luigi, i quite believe it. well, about this dramatic situation--what did you do next?"

"cospetto! i played my part on the stage with great judgment, i can tell you. when i was sure that madame morone had left the palazzo i re-lighted the candles, and went to see what appearance my man behind the tapestry presented. to my surprise i recognised signor hugo cranston, and you may fancy i was considerably astonished, as i could not understand how you had become mixed up in this boccaccian adventure. friendship said, 'revive him and apologize.' caution remarked, 'remove him from the palazzo, and let him think the events of the night a dream.'"

"oh! and you adopted the advice of caution?"

"diavolo! what else could i do? you might have interfered with my plans; and, besides, i always intended to give you an explanation when the contessa became the marchesa beltrami. circumstances, however, have brought about the explanation sooner than i intended."

"so i see," i replied drily. "however, you removed me from the palace."

"yes! i called up my two men, and, telling them you were--well--overcome by bacchus, ordered them to take you to the piazza vittorio emanuele and leave you there. ecco!"

"oh, beltrami."

"eh, you reproach me. well, i no doubt deserve your reproaches, but it was the best excuse i could think of, as it doesn't do to trust servants too much. ebbene! they took you away and left you in the piazza, where you awoke in the morning?"

"i did, with a confounded headache."

"ma foi! that was the chloroform, no doubt. having thus arranged your little matter i went to the pillar and released guiseppe pallanza."

"he was not dead, then?"

"no! she gave him ten drops, i tell you. so that, although he was not actually dead, he had all the appearance of a corpse. i could not revive him as i had not the antidote; so, when my two men returned, i had him brought here."

"here! in this house?"

"precisely! he is in the next room. we will go and look at him presently. but to continue: the next day i called upon the contessa, and told her i had seen all, suppressing, however, the fact that i had carried off this unfortunate lover."

"which accounted for her surprise to-day on seeing the pillar empty?"

"of course; she never dreamed that i would meddle with her work. well, i gave her a choice of either explaining her little adventure to the authorities, and thus run a chance of being imprisoned for life, or of becoming my wife. of these two evils she chose the least; so now i am engaged to marry her, and she will become the marchesa beltrami next month. interesting, is it not, hugo?"

it was no use arguing with this man, who, as he said himself, looked at the affair in a totally different light from what i did, and i did not know whether to loathe his brutal candour, to despise his mercenary designs, or to admire his undoubted courage in marrying this woman. however, i reflected that his subtle intriguing would undoubtedly be sufficiently punished by his marriage with this tigress of a contessa, and as my only desire was to restore pallanza to the arms of bianca, i neither condemned nor praised beltrami's singular conduct, which seemed admirable in his own eyes, but simply complimented him on his adroitness in following the precepts of niccolo machiavelli. he listened to my cold remarks with a disbelieving smile on his face, and laughed mockingly when i ceased speaking.

"eh! hugo, you do not approve of my ideas? well, i do not wonder at that fire and water are not more different than an italian and an englishman. your cool blood comes from generations of church-going, straight-laced ancestors, whose beliefs ruled their lives in a simple manner; but my fiery blood burned in the veins of those condottieri of the renaissance who were at war with king and pope and republic, who constantly stood on the verge of unseen precipices, and who needed all their craft, their courage, and their iron nerve to preserve their lives and fortunes. dame! let us talk no more of such contrasts, but come with me, and i will show you this missing lover of madame morone."

i acquiesced eagerly in this proposal, and followed beltrami, who led me into his bedroom, and, having unlocked a door in the opposite wall, ushered me into a small, bare apartment, containing a bed on which lay the still form of guiseppe pallanza. there he was dressed the same as on that fatal night, with his eyes closed, a frozen look on his white face, and his hands crossed on his breast. lying thus in his antique garb he put me in mind of one of those coloured statues which adorn the tombs of great men; where the face, the hair, and the vestments are all tinted so as to produce the semblance of life. but was life here, in the body of this young man, who lay so passively before me with closed eyes as though he were indeed buried in some sepulchre of the dead?

"oh! he is alive," said beltrami, guessing my thought as i shrank back from the bed; "it is a case of suspended animation."

"but lasting three---four days?"

"dame, yes! it would last much longer, i have no doubt. ten drops produce this life-in-death state which you see, fifteen drops the same thing; but the one ends in death after a certain time, the other does not."

"but why did you not go to the vault and find this antidote at once?"

"well, to tell you the truth, hugo, i thought it would be a useless errand, as i do not know where to look for it. i fancied that madame morone might have found another bottle of this damnable poison, but it never struck me until i heard your story that she had read the letter addressed by morone to me, and gone to the vault for the poison."

"and what are we to do now?"

"go to the vault, to be sure, and look for this antidote."

"but, the vault is locked!"

"true, i forgot that," said beltrami, with a thoughtful frown, "however, i think i can procure the key."

"from madame morone?"

"dame! no! that would put her on her guard at once. i want her to think pallanza is still in this cataleptic state, otherwise she won't marry me, as my power over her will be gone. i'll get the key somehow; if not, one of my men knows something about picking locks, so we will take him with us."

"a reputable servant, truly!"

"eh! what would you!" said beltrami carelessly, as he led the way out of the room and locked the door. "even lock-picking is useful on occasions--witness the present one. well, are you ready to go to the vault with me to-night?"

"at night, beltrami?"

"most certainly. if we went in the daytime all verona would be in commotion. no! we must go at midnight when no one is about. have you the courage?"

"i think so! but i hope madame morone will not be there!"

"there's no fear of that, as she has no reason to pay a second visit to the remains of her husband. she has got the poison, and knows nothing about the antidote, so make yourself easy on that score. ecco!"

"what are you going to do now, marchesa!"

"see if i can obtain that key. if i fail to obtain it, i will bring matteo with me. as for you, my friend, go and take something to eat, and meet me on the ponte aleardi at midnight."

"i will be there, beltrami. good-bye for the present."

"à revederci, hugo; i am obliged for your confidence, as it has solved the difficulty of knowing what to do with signor cupid."

we both went different ways; beltrami to search for his key, and myself to hasten home to my hotel, and prepare myself for the fatigues of this midnight excursion, which, however much it appealed to the marchese's sense of the romantic, was certainly not relished by me.