Paulo objected, that in the meanwhile, the person for whom they watched might escape; and Vivaldi compromised the affair. The torch was lighted, but concealed within a hollow of the cliffs, that bordered the road, and the centinels took their station in darkness, within the deep arch, near the spot where Vivaldi had watched with Bonarmo. As they did this, the distant chime of a convent informed Vivaldi that midnight was turned. The sound recalled to his mind the words of Schedoni, concerning the vicinity of the convent of the Black Penitents, to Paluzzi, and he asked Paulo whether this was the chime of that convent. Paulo replied that it was, and that a remarkable circumstance had taught him to remember the Santa del Pianto, or Our Lady of Tears. »The place, Signor, would interest you,« said Paulo; »for there are some odd stories told of it; and I am inclined to think, this unknown monk must be one of that society, his conduct is so strange.«

»You believe then, that I am willing to give faith to wonderful stories,« said Vivaldi, smiling. »But what have you heard, that is so extraordinary, respecting this convent? Speak low, or we may be discovered.«

»Why, Signor, the story is not generally known,« said Paulo in a whisper; »I half promised never to reveal it.«

»If you are under any promise of secresy,« interrupted Vivaldi, »I forbid you to tell this wonderful tale, which, however, seems somewhat too big to rest within your brain.«

»The story would fain expand itself to your's, Signor,« said Paulo; »and, as I did not absolutely promise to conceal it, I am very willing to reveal it.«

»Proceed, then,« said Vivaldi; »but let me once more caution you to speak low.«

»You are obeyed, Signor. You must know, then, Maestro, that it was on the eve of the festival of Santo Marco, and about six years since« –

»Peace!« said Vivaldi. They were silent; but every thing remaining still, Paulo, after some time, ventured to proceed, though in a yet lower whisper. »It was on the eve of the Santo Marco, and when the last bell had rung, that a person« – He stopped again, for a rustling sound passed near him.

»You are too late,« said a sudden voice beside Vivaldi, who instantly recognized the thrilling accents of the monk. – »It is past midnight; she departed an hour ago. Look to your steps!«

Though thrilled by this well-known voice, Vivaldi scarcely yielded to his feelings for a moment, but, checking the question which would have asked »who departed?« he, by a sudden spring, endeavoured to seize the intruder, while Paulo, in the first hurry of his alarm, fired a pistol, and then hastened for the torch. So certainly did Vivaldi believe himself to have leaped upon the spot whence the voice proceeded, that, on reaching it, he instantly extended his arms, and searching around, expected every moment to find his enemy in his grasp. Darkness again baffled his attempt.

»You are known,« cried Vivaldi; »you shall see me at the Santa del Pianto! What, oh! Paulo, the torch! – the torch!«

Paulo, swift as the wind, appeared with it. »He passed up those steps in the rock, Signor; I saw the skirts of his garments ascending!«

»Follow me, then,« said Vivaldi, mounting the steps. »Away, away, Maestro!« said Paulo, impatiently; »but, for Heaven's sake, name no more the convent of the Santa del Pianto; our lives may answer it!«

He followed to the terrace above, where Vivaldi, holding high the torch, looked round for the monk. The place, however, as far as his eye could penetrate, was forsaken and silent. The glare of the torch enlightened only the rude walls of the citadel, some points of the cliff below, and some tall pines that waved over them, leaving in doubtful gloom many a recess of the ruin, and many a tangled thicket, that spread among the rocks beyond.

»Do you perceive any person, Paulo?« said Vivaldi, waving the torch in the air to rouse the flame.

»Among those arches on the left, Signor, those arches that stand duskily beyond the citadel, I thought I saw a shadowy sort of a figure pass. He might be a ghost, by his silence, for aught I know, Maestro; but he seems to have a good mortal instinct in taking care of himself, and to have as swift a pair of heels to assist in carrying him off, as any Lazaro in Naples need desire.«

»Fewer words, and more caution!« said Vivaldi, lowering the torch, and pointing it towards the quarter which Paulo had mentioned. »Be vigilant, and tread lightly.«

»You are obeyed, Signor; but their eyes will inform them, though their ears refuse, while we hold a light to our own steps.«

»Peace, with this buffoonery!« said Vivaldi, somewhat sternly; »follow in silence, and be on your guard.«

Paulo submitted, and they proceeded towards the range of arches, which communicated with the building, whose singular structure had formerly arrested the attention of Bonarmo, and whence Vivaldi himself had returned with such unexpected precipitancy and consternation.

On perceiving the place he was approaching, he suddenly stopped, and Paulo observing his agitation, and probably not relishing the adventure, endeavoured to dissuade him from further research: »For we know not who may inhabit this gloomy place, Signor, or their numbers, and we are only two of us after all! Besides, Signor, it was through that door, yonder;« and he pointed to the very spot whence Vivaldi had so fearfully issued; »through that door, that I fancied, just now, I saw something pass.«

»Are you certain as to this?« said Vivaldi, with increased emotion. »What was its form?«

»It was so dusky thereabout, Maestro, that I could not distinguish.«

Vivaldi's eyes were fixed upon the building, and a violent conflict of feelings seemed to shake his soul. A few seconds decided it. »I will go on,« said he, »and terminate, at any hazard, this state of intolerable anxiety. Paulo, pause a moment, and consider well whether you can depend on your courage, for it may be severely tried. If you can, descend with me in silence, and I warn you to be wary; if you cannot, I will go alone.«

»It is too late now, Signor, to ask myself that question,« replied Paulo, with a submissive air; »and if I had not settled it long ago, I should not have followed you thus far. My courage, Signor, you never doubted before.«

»Come on then,« said Vivaldi. He drew his sword, and entering the narrow door-way, the torch, which he had now resigned to Paulo, shewed a stone passage, that was, however, interminable to the eye.

As they proceeded, Paulo observed, that the walls were stained in several places with what appeared to be blood, but prudently forbore to point this out to his master, observing the strict injunction of silence he had received.

Vivaldi stepped cautiously, and often paused to listen, after which he went on with a quicker pace, making signs only to Paulo to follow, and be vigilant. The passage terminated in a stair-case, that seemed to lead to vaults below. Vivaldi remembered the light which had formerly appeared there, and, as recollection of the past gathered on his mind, he faultered in his purpose.

Again he paused, looked back upon Paulo, but was going forward, when Paulo himself seized his arm. »Stop! Signor,« said he in a low voice.