“It’s broad daylight, you coward; besides, I wish you to tell me about the tombs.”
“But why does not the Signor go to the beautiful new cemetery?” said Peppino, leading his horse to the wall and fastening him to a heavy stone; “the statues there are beautiful. This is old, very old; no one is buried here now.”
“When was the last person buried, Peppino?”
“Dio! I don’t know–eh, 佛山桑拿第一站 oh, yes, Signore, last year an illustrious was buried in his own vault; but he was mad. Ecco!”
“Why did he have a vault built in such an old cemetery?”
“Oh, the vault was old–as old as the Trezza. All the signori of his family had been buried there for many days.”
“Since the Republic?”
“Dio! yes, and before.”
“What is the name of this family?”
“I don’t know, Signore, I forget!”
“Well, come along,
Peppino. As you know so much about one tomb, you will probably know something about another.”
“Command me, Illustrious.”
I did not enter the burial-ground by the gate, as I wanted to go the same way as on the previous night, in order to be certain of finding the tomb I was in search of, so, with some little difficulty, and the help of Peppino, I managed to climb over the broken wall, and soon found myself in my old 佛山桑拿qq照片 hiding-place. Peppino looked at me with considerable curiosity, as he could not conceive my object in coming to this dreary locality; but ultimately, shrugging his shoulders, he put it down to a freak on the part of a mad Englishman, and waited for me to speak.
The tomb looked scarcely less forbidding and gloomy in the daytime than it did at night, with its massive-looking architecture, 佛山夜生活最热闹的地方 and the stern-faced angel guarding the iron door. Advancing through the long grass which grew all round it, I looked every where for a name, but could find none, then tried to open the iron door, to the great dismay of Peppino.
“Signore,” he said in a faltering voice, “do not let out the ghosts.”
“There are no ghosts here, Peppino. They have all departed,” I replied, finding the door locked.
“Dio! I’m not so sure of that, Illustrious. Many dead 佛山桑拿夜生活论坛 are in there.”
“Oh, they’ve been dead so long that their ghosts must have grown weary of this gloomy sepulchre.”
“Yes, Signore, but the ghost of the mad Count buried last year!”
“Oh!” I cried with lively curiosity, “is this the vault where he was buried?”
“And the name, Peppino? What was his name?”
The little Italian looked perplexed, as he could not understand the interest I took in this sepulchre; still, seeing I was in earnest, he tried to think of the name, but evidently could not recall it.
“Cospetto! Signore, I have the memory of Beppo, who forgot the mother who bore him; but the name will be here, Illustrious, for certain.”
“See if you can find it, Peppino,” I replied, sitting down on a stone near the iron door. “I am anxious to know to whom this tomb belongs.”
Peppino, being more conversant 佛山桑拿技师网 with Italian tombs than myself, went to look for the name, and in a wonderfully short space of time came back with a satisfied smile on his face.
“Signore, the tomb is that of the Morone.”
“Yes, Signore, they were a great family of Verona, as great as the cursed Medici of my beautiful Florence.”
“And this Count, who died last year, was their descendant?”
“Dio! Illustrious, he was the last of them. No father, no brother, no child. He was the last. Basta, basta!”
“Had he a wife?” I asked, thinking of the woman who had emerged from this tomb.
“Yes, Signore, a beautiful wife, but when he died she left Verona for Rome I heard. She is not now here.”
Well, I had found out the name of the family buried in the tomb, and that the wife was the sole representative of the race, so I naturally thought she was the 佛山夜生活什么价格 only person who would have been able to enter the tomb; although why she did so, unless it was to pray beside the corpse of her late husband, I could not understand. Besides, Peppino, who was one of the greatest gossips in the town, said she had left Verona, so perhaps the midnight visitor was not the Contessa Morone at all.
“Were the Count and Countess an attached couple, Peppino?”
The Italian shrugged his shoulders.
“Dio! I know not indeed,” he replied carelessly; “the Signor Conte was certainly mad. I saw him at times, and he had the evil eye. Diamine! often have I made horns for that eye, Illustrious.”
“And the Countess, Peppino? Have you ever seen the Countess?”
“No, Signore! The Conte let her not out. Ah! he was jealous, that madman. He was old and the Signora was young. Per Bacco! the husband was afraid of the handsome 佛山夜生活 officers. Ecco!”
A mad and jealous husband, old, too, into the bargain. With such a trinity of imperfections a young and beautiful woman could hardly be much in love with him, and, a year after his death, would certainly not have taken the trouble to pray at his tomb. No! the unknown lady could not possibly have been the Contessa. Who, then was this mysterious visitant? I had now quite got over my fancy that she was a spectre, and felt profoundly curious to find out who she was, and why she had come to this ancient burial-place