Peppino philosophically, mounting the box, "the ill of one is the good of another. To where, Signore?"

"To the cemetery near the Porto Vittoria."

"The new or the old one, Signore?"

"The old cemetery!"

Peppino cast a queer look at me over his shoulder, and, muttering something about the "mad English," drove away towards the Via Pallone. As he was on the box-seat, and the fiacre made a good deal of noise going over the rugged stone pavement, in addition to the incessant jingling of the bells, I could not question him as I desired to do, so, making up my mind to wait until I arrived at the graveyard, I leaned back in the carriage and gave myself up to my own thoughts. 

Then a curious thing occurred which made me certain that the events of the previous night had actually taken place, for without the least effort of memory on my part the strange melody sung by the young man in the palace came into my head. I could not possibly have dreamed that, and I could not possibly have composed the air, so I concluded that I had really heard the song, and, having an excellent musical ear, it had impressed itself on my memory. Of course I did not recollect the words, but only the tune, and thinking it might prove useful as a link in the chain of circumstances, I hummed it over twice or thrice so as to keep it in my mind.

I therefore concluded from this piece of evidence that I had actually been to the deserted palace and witnessed that strange feast, but if so, how had I found myself at dawn in the Piazza Vittoria Emanuele? It was no use puzzling my brains any more over this mysterious affair, so the wisest plan would be to wait until I found out the name on the tomb, and then perhaps Peppino would be able to tell me about the palace, in which case, with these two facts to go on, I might hope to discover the meaning of these extraordinary events.

Meanwhile the fiacre had left the Via Pallone, crossed over the Ponte Aleardi, and was now being driven rapidly along the left bank of the Adige, past the Campo Marzo. We speedily arrived at the old burial-ground, and Peppino, stopping his horse near the gate, assisted me to alight from the carriage.

"Peppino," I said, when this was done, "tie your horse up somewhere and come with me into the cemetery."

"Diamine!" replied Peppino, crossing himself with superstitious reverence. "I like not these 

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