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 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?"

"Yes, Illustrious!"

"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 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."

"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 

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