wonders　why；　herself。　　But　I　heard　her　tell　him；　only　last　night；
  that　if　she　was　to　find　a　picture　of　that　face　in　our　Italian　house
  （which　she　is　afraid　she　will）　she　did　not　know　how　she　could　ever
  bear　it。'
  Upon　my　word　I　was　fearful　after　this　（said　the　Genoese　courier）　of
  our　coming　to　the　old　palazzo；　lest　some　such　ill…starred　picture
  should　happen　to　be　there。　　I　knew　there　were　many　there；　and；　as
  we　got　nearer　and　nearer　to　the　place；　I　wished　the　whole　gallery
  in　the　crater　of　Vesuvius。　　To　mend　the　matter；　it　was　a　stormy
  dismal　evening　when　we；　at　last；　approached　that　part　of　the
  Riviera。　　It　thundered；　and　the　thunder　of　my　city　and　its
  environs；　rolling　among　the　high　hills；　is　very　loud。　　The　lizards
  ran　in　and　out　of　the　chinks　in　the　broken　stone　wall　of　the
  garden；　as　if　they　were　frightened；　the　frogs　bubbled　and　croaked
  their　loudest；　the　sea…wind　moaned；　and　the　wet　trees　dripped；　and
  the　lightning　…　body　of　San　Lorenzo；　how　it　lightened！
  We　all　know　what　an　old　palace　in　or　near　Genoa　is　…　how　time　and
  the　sea　air　have　blotted　it　…　how　the　drapery　painted　on　the　outer
  walls　has　peeled　off　in　great　flakes　of　plaster　…　how　the　lower
  windows　are　darkened　with　rusty　bars　of　iron　…　how　the　courtyard　is
  overgrown　with　grass　…　how　the　outer　buildings　are　dilapidated　…
  how　the　whole　pile　seems　devoted　to　ruin。　　Our　palazzo　was　one　of
  the　true　kind。　　It　had　been　shut　up　close　for　months。　　Months？　…
  years！　…　it　had　an　earthy　smell；　like　a　tomb。　　The　scent　of　the
  orange　trees　on　the　broad　back　terrace；　and　of　the　lemons　ripening
  on　the　wall；　and　of　some　shrubs　that　grew　around　a　broken　fountain；
  had　got　into　the　house　somehow；　and　had　never　been　able　to　get　out
  again。　　There　was；　in　every　room；　an　aged　smell；　grown　faint　with
  confinement。　　It　pined　in　all　the　cupboards　and　drawers。　　In　the
  little　rooms　of　communication　between　great　rooms；　it　was　stifling。
  If　you　turned　a　picture　…　to　come　back　to　the　pictures　…　there　it
  still　was；　clinging　to　the　wall　behind　the　frame；　like　a　sort　of
  bat。
  The　lattice…blinds　were　close　shut；　all　over　the　house。　　There　were
  two　ugly；　grey　old　women　in　the　house；　to　take　care　of　it；　one　of
  them　with　a　spindle；　who　stood　winding　and　mumbling　in　the　doorway；
  and　who　would　as　soon　have　let　in　the　devil　as　the　air。　　Master；
  mistress；　la　bella　Carolina；　and　I；　went　all　through　the　palazzo。
  I　went　first；　though　I　have　named　myself　last；　opening　the　windows
  and　the　lattice…blinds；　and　shaking　down　on　myself　splashes　of
  rain；　and　scraps　of　mortar；　and　now　and　then　a　dozing　mosquito；　or
  a　monstrous；　fat；　blotchy；　Genoese　spider。
  When　I　had　let　the　evening　light　into　a　room；　master；　mistress；　and
  la　bella　Carolina；　entered。　　Then；　we　looked　round　at　all　the
  pictures；　and　I　went　forward　again　into　another　room。　　Mistress
  secretly　had　great　fear　of　meeting　with　the　likeness　of　that　face　…
  we　all　had；　but　there　was　no　such　thing。　　The　Madonna　and　Bambino；
  San　Francisco；　San　Sebastiano；　Venus；　Santa　Caterina；　Angels；
  Brigands；　Friars；　Temples　at　Sunset；　Battles；　White　Horses；
  Forests；　Apostles；　Doges；　all　my　old　acquaintances　many　times
  repeated？　…　yes。　　Dark；　handsome　man　in　black；　reserved　and　secret；
  with　black　hair　and　grey　moustache；　looking　fixedly　at　mistress　out
  of　darkness？　…　no。
  At　last　we　got　through　all　the　rooms　and　all　the　pictures；　and　came
  out　into　the　gardens。　　They　were　pretty　well　kept；　being　rented　by
  a　gardener；　and　were　large　and　shady。　　In　one　place　there　was　a
  rustic　theatre；　open　to　the　sky；　the　stage　a　green　slope；　the
  coulisses；　three　entrances　upon　a　side；　sweet…smelling　leafy
  screens。　　Mistress　moved　her　bright　eyes；　even　there；　as　if　she
  looked　to　see　the　face　come　in　upon　the　scene；　but　all　was　well。
  'Now；　Clara；'　master　said；　in　a　low　voice；　'you　see　that　it　is
  nothing？　　You　are　happy。'
  Mistress　was　much　encouraged。　　She　soon　accustomed　herself　to　that
  grim　palazzo；　and　would　sing；　and　play　the　harp；　and　copy　the　old
  pictures；　and　stroll　with　master　under　the　green　trees　and　vines
  all　day。　　She　was　beautiful。　　He　was　happy。　　He　would　laugh　and　say
  to　me；　mounting　his　horse　for　his　morning　ride　before　the　heat：
  'All　goes　well；　Baptista！'
  'Yes；　signore；　thank　God；　very　well。'
  We　kept　no　company。　　I　took　la　bella　to　the　Duomo　and　Annunciata；
  to　the　Cafe；　to　the　Opera；　to　the　village　Festa；　to　the　Public
  Garden；　to　the　Day　Theatre；　to　the　Marionetti。　　The　pretty　little
  one　was　charmed　with　all　she　saw。　　She　learnt　Italian　…　heavens！
  miraculously！　　Was　mistress　quite　forgetful　of　that　dream？　I　asked
  Carolina　sometimes。　　Nearly；　said　la　bella　…　almost。　　It　was
  wearing　out。
  One　day　master　received　a　letter；　and　called　me。
  'Baptista！'
  'Signore！'
  'A　gentleman　who　is　presented　to　me　will　dine　here　to…day。　　He　is
  called　the　Signor　Dellombra。　　Let　me　dine　like　a　prince。'
  It　was　an　odd　name。　　I　did　not　know　that　name。　　But；　there　had　been
  many　noblemen　and　gentlemen　pursued　by　Austria　on　political
  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；
  to　inquire　for　mistress。　　He　did　so　two　or　three　times　in　that
  week。
  What　I　observed　myself；　and　what　la　bella　Carolina　told　me；　united
  to　explain　to　me　that　master　had　now　set　his　mind　on　curing
  mistress　of　her　fanciful　terror。　　He　was　all　kindness；　but　he　was
  sensible　and　firm。　　He　reasoned　with　her；　that　to　encourage　such
  fancies　was　to　invite　melancholy；　if　not　madness。　　That　it　rested
  with　herself　to　be　herself。　　That　if　she　once　resisted　her　strange
  weakness；　so　successfully　as　to　receive　the　Signor　Dellombra　as　an
  English　lady　would　receive　any　other　guest；　it　was　for　ever
  conquered。　　To　make　an　end；　the　signore　came　again；　and　mistress
  received　him　without　marked　distress　（though　with　constraint　and
  apprehension　still）；　and　the　evening　passed　serenely。　　Master　was
  so　delighted　with　this　change；　and　so　anxious　to　confirm　it；　that
  the　Signor　Dellombra　became　a　constant　guest。　　He　was　accomplished
  in　pictures；　books；　and　music；　and　his　society；　in　any　grim
  palazzo；　would　have　been　welcome。
  I　used　to　notice；　many　times；　that　mistress　was　not　quite
  recovered。　　She　would　cast　down　her　eyes　and　droop　her　head；　before
  the　Signor　Dellombra；　or　would　look　at　him　with　a　terrified　and
  fascinated　glance；　as　if　his　presence　had　some　evil　influence　or
  power　upon　her。　　Turning　from　her　to　him；　I　used　to　see　him　in　the
  shaded　gardens；　or　the　large　half…lighted　sala；　looking；　as　I　might
  say；　'fixedly　upon　her　out　of　darkness。'　　But；　truly；　I　had　not
  forgotten　la　bella　Carolina's　words　describing　the　face　in　the
  dream。
  After　his　second　visit　I　heard　master　say：
  'Now；　see；　my　dear　Clara；　it's　over！　　Dellombra　has　come　and　gone；
  and　your　apprehension　is　broken　like　glass。'
  'Will　he　…　will　he　ever　come　again？'　asked　mistress。
  'Again？　　Why；　surely；　over　and　over　again！　　Are　you　cold？'　（she
  shivered）。
  'No；　dear　…　but　…　he　terrifies　me：　　are　you　sure　that　he　need　come
  again？'
  'The　surer　for　the　question；　Clara！'　replied　master；　cheerfully。
  But；　he　was　very　hopeful　of　her　complete　recovery　now；　and　grew
  more　and　more　so　every　day。　　She　was　beautiful。　　He　was　happy。
  'All　goes　well；　Baptista？'　he　would　say　to　me　again。
  'Yes；　signore；　thank　God；　very　well。'
  We　were　all　（said　the　Genoese　courier；　constraining　himself　to
  speak　a　little　louder