suspicions, lately, and some names had changed. Perhaps this was
one. Altro! Dellombra was as good a name to me as another.

When the Signor Dellombra came to dinner (said the Genoese courier
in the low voice, into which he had subsided once before), I showed
him into the reception-room, the great sala of the old palazzo.
Master received him with cordiality, and presented him to mistress.
As she rose, her face changed, she gave a cry, and fell upon the
marble floor.

Then, I turned my head to the Signor Dellombra, and saw that he was
dressed in black, and had a reserved and secret air, and was a
dark, remarkable-looking man, with black hair and a grey moustache.

Master raised mistress in his arms, and carried her to her own
room, where I sent la bella Carolina straight. La bella told me
afterwards that mistress was nearly terrified to death, and that
she wandered in her mind about her dream, all night.

Master was vexed and anxious - almost angry, and yet full of
solicitude. The Signor Dellombra was a courtly gentleman, and
spoke with great respect and sympathy of mistress's being so ill.
The African wind had been blowing for some days (they had told him
at his hotel of the Maltese Cross), and he knew that it was often
hurtful. He hoped the beautiful lady would recover soon. He
begged permission to retire, and to renew his visit when he should
have the happiness of hearing that she was better. Master would
not allow of this, and they dined alone.

He withdrew early. Next day he called at the gate, on horse-back,