"No, no," returned the old man, in an altered voice; "not here, not
_here_, though 'twere but just retribution. But I will find other means
of vengeance. I will denounce him--I will betray all, though it cost me
my own life! He shall die by the hands of the common executioner;--there
is one shall testify for me!" And he pointed to me. Again I advanced towards him. "If thou hast aught to disclose pertaining to the Holy Church, I am
ready to listen to thee, my son," said the priest; "but reflect well ere
thou bringest any charge thou mayest not be able to substantiate against
one who stands so high in her esteem as him thou wouldst accuse." The son gave his father a meaning look, and whispered somewhat in his
ear. The old man became suddenly still. "Right, right," said he; "I have bethought me. 'Twas but a blow. He is
wealthy, I am poor; there is no justice for the poor in Rome." "My purse is at your service," said I, interfering; "you shall have my
aid." "Your aid!" echoed the old man, staring at me; "will _you_ assist me,
signor?" "I will." "Enough. I may claim fulfilment of your promise." "Stop, old man," I said; "answer me one question ere you depart. Whence
arose your recent terrors?" "You shall know hereafter, signor," he said; "I must now begone. We
shall meet again. Follow me not," he continued, seeing I was bent upon
obtaining further explanation of the mystery. "You will learn nothing
now, and only endanger my safety. _Addio, signor._" And with hasty steps
he quitted the church, accompanied by his son. "Who is that old man?" I demanded of the priest. "I am as ignorant as yourself," he replied, "but he must be looked to;
he talks threateningly." And he beckoned to an attendant. "Who was he who struck him?" was my next inquiry. "One of our wealthiest nobles," he replied, "and an assured friend of
the Church. We could ill spare him. Do not lose sight of them," he added
to the attendant, "and let the _sbirri_ track them to their haunts. They
must not be suffered to go forth to-night. A few hours' restraint will
cool their hot Calabrian blood." "But the name of the noble, father?" I said, renewing my inquiries. "I must decline further questioning," returned the priest coldly. "I
have other occupation; and meanwhile it will be well to have these
stains effaced, which may else bring scandal on these holy walls. You
will excuse me, my son." So saying, he bowed and retired. I made fruitless inquiries for the old man at the door of the church. He
was gone; none of the bystanders who had seen him go forth knew whither. Stung by curiosity, I wandered amid the most unfrequented quarters of
Rome throughout the day, in the hope of meeting with the old Calabrian,
but in vain. As, however, I entered the courtyard of my hotel, I fancied
I discovered, amongst the lounging assemblage gathered round the door,
the dark eyes of the younger mountaineer. In this I might have been
mistaken. No one answering to his description had been seen near the
house. CHAPTER II

THE MARCHESA

    Une chose ténébreuse fait par des hommes ténébreux. --_Lucrece Borgia._


On the same night I bent my steps towards the Colosseum; and, full of my
adventure of the morning, found myself, not without apprehension,
involved within its labyrinthine passages. Accompanied by a monk, who,
with a small horn lantern in his hand, acted as my guide, I fancied
that, by its uncertain light, I could discover stealthy figures lurking
within the shades of the ruin. Whatever suspicions I might entertain, I pursued my course in silence. Emerging from the _vomitorio_, we stood upon the steps of the colossal
amphitheatre. The huge pile was bathed in rosy moonlight, and reared
itself in serene majesty before my view. While indulging in a thousand speculations, occasioned by the hour and
the spot, I suddenly perceived a figure on a point of the ruin
immediately above me. Nothing but the head was visible; but that was
placed in bold relief against the beaming sky of night, and I recognised
it at once. No nobler Roman head had ever graced the circus when Rome
was in her zenith. I shouted to the old Calabrian, for he it was I
beheld. Almost ere the sound had left my lips, he had disappeared. I
made known what I had seen to the monk. He was alarmed--urged our
instant departure, and advised me to seek the assistance of the sentinel
stationed at the entrance to the pile. To this proposal I assented; and,
having descended the vasty steps and crossed the open arena, we arrived,
without molestation, at the doorway. The sentinel had allowed no one to pass him. He returned with me to the
circus; and, after an ineffectual search amongst the ruins, volunteered
his services to accompany me homewards through the Forum. I declined his
offer, and shaped my course towards a lonesome _vicolo_ on the right. This was courting danger; but I cared not, and walked slowly forward
through the deserted place. Scarcely had I proceeded many paces, when I heard footsteps swiftly
approaching; and, ere I could turn round, my arms were seized from
behind, and a bandage was passed across my eyes. All my efforts at
liberation were unavailing; and, after a brief struggle, I remained
passive. "Make no noise," said a voice which I knew to be that of the old man,
"and no harm shall befall you. You must come with us. Ask no questions,
but follow." I suffered myself to be led, without further opposition, whithersoever
they listed. We walked for it might be half-an-hour, much beyond the
walls of Rome. I had to scramble through many ruins, and frequently
stumbled over inequalities of ground. I now felt the fresh breeze of
night blowing over the wide campagna, and my conductors moved swiftly
onwards as we trod on its elastic turf. At length they came to a halt. My bandage was removed, and I beheld
myself beneath the arch of an aqueduct, which spanned the moonlit plain. A fire was kindled beneath the arch, and the ruddy flame licked its
walls. Around the blaze were grouped the little band of peasantry I had
beheld within the church, in various and picturesque attitudes. They
greeted my conductors on their arrival, and glanced inquisitively at me,
but did not speak to me. The elder Calabrian, whom they addressed as
Cristofano, asked for a glass of _aqua vitæ_, which he handed
respectfully to me. I declined the offer, but he pressed it upon me. "You will need it, signor," he said; "you have much to do to-night. You
fear, perhaps, it is drugged. Behold!" And he drank it off. I could not, after this, refuse his pledge. "And now, signor," said the
old man, removing to a little distance from the group, "may I crave a
word with you--your name?" As I had no reason for withholding it, I told him how I was called. "Hum! Had you no relation of the name of ----?" "None whatever." And I sighed, for I thought of my desolate condition. "Strange!" he muttered; adding, with a grim smile, "but, however,
likenesses are easily accounted for." "What likenesses?" I asked. "Whom do I resemble?