"Before I could guess why or wherefore," resumed Cetoxa, "I found myself in the garden behind the house, with Ughelli (that was the Sicilian's name) facing me, and five or six gentlemen, the witnesses of the duel about to take place, around.Zanoni beckoned me aside.'This man will fall,' said he.'When he is on the ground, go to him, and ask whether he will be buried by the side of his father in the church of San Gennaro?' 'Do you then know his family?' I asked with great surprise.Zanoni made me no answer, and the next moment I was engaged with the Sicilian.To do him justice, his imbrogliato was magnificent, and a swifter lounger never crossed a sword; nevertheless," added Cetoxa, with a pleasing modesty, "he was run through the body.Iwent up to him; he could scarcely speak.'Have you any request to make,--any affairs to settle?' He shook his head.'Where would you wish to be interred?' He pointed towards the Sicilian coast.'What!' said I, in surprise, 'NOT by the side of your father, in the church of San Gennaro?' As I spoke, his face altered terribly; he uttered a piercing shriek,--the blood gushed from his mouth, and he fell dead.The most strange part of the story is to come.We buried him in the church of San Gennaro.

In doing so, we took up his father's coffin; the lid came off in moving it, and the skeleton was visible.In the hollow of the skull we found a very slender wire of sharp steel; this caused surprise and inquiry.The father, who was rich and a miser, had died suddenly, and been buried in haste, owing, it was said, to the heat of the weather.Suspicion once awakened, the examination became minute.The old man's servant was questioned, and at last confessed that the son had murdered the sire.The contrivance was ingenious: the wire was so slender that it pierced to the brain, and drew but one drop of blood, which the grey hairs concealed.The accomplice will be executed.""And Zanoni,--did he give evidence, did he account for--""No," interrupted the count: "he declared that he had by accident visited the church that morning; that he had observed the tombstone of the Count Ughelli; that his guide had told him the count's son was in Naples,--a spendthrift and a gambler.

While we were at play, he had heard the count mentioned by name at the table; and when the challenge was given and accepted, it had occurred to him to name the place of burial, by an instinct which he either could not or would not account for.""A very lame story," said Mervale.

"Yes! but we Italians are superstitious,--the alleged instinct was regarded by many as the whisper of Providence.The next day the stranger became an object of universal interest and curiosity.His wealth, his manner of living, his extraordinary personal beauty, have assisted also to make him the rage;besides, I have had the pleasure in introducing so eminent a person to our gayest cavaliers and our fairest ladies.""A most interesting narrative," said Mervale, rising."Come, Glyndon; shall we seek our hotel? It is almost daylight.Adieu, signor!""What think you of this story?" said Glyndon, as the young men walked homeward.

"Why, it is very clear that this Zanoni is some imposter,--some clever rogue; and the Neapolitan shares the booty, and puffs him off with all the hackneyed charlatanism of the marvellous.An unknown adventurer gets into society by being made an object of awe and curiosity; he is more than ordinarily handsome, and the women are quite content to receive him without any other recommendation than his own face and Cetoxa's fables.""I cannot agree with you.Cetoxa, though a gambler and a rake, is a nobleman of birth and high repute for courage and honour.

Besides, this stranger, with his noble presence and lofty air,--so calm, so unobtrusive,--has nothing in common with the forward garrulity of an imposter.""My dear Glyndon, pardon me; but you have not yet acquired any knowledge of the world! The stranger makes the best of a fine person, and his grand air is but a trick of the trade.But to change the subject,--how advances the love affair?""Oh, Viola could not see me to-day."

"You must not marry her.What would they all say at home?""Let us enjoy the present," said Glyndon, with vivacity; "we are young, rich, good-looking; let us not think of to-morrow.""Bravo, Glyndon! Here we are at the hotel.Sleep sound, and don't dream of Signor Zanoni."