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on in front。 At any rate； I remember that it impressed itself upon my
mind one evening in the South of France； when she called to me to call
master back； and when he came back； and walked for a long way； talking
encouragingly and affectionately to her； with his hand upon the open
window； and hers in it。 Now and then； he laughed in a merry way； as if
he were bantering her out of something。 By…and…by； she laughed； and
then all went well again。
It was curious。 I asked la bella Carolina； the pretty little one； Was
mistress unwell？ … No。 … Out of spirits？ … No。 … Fearful of bad roads； or
brigands？ … No。 And what made it more mysterious was； the pretty little
one would not look at me in giving answer； but WOULD look at the view。
But； one day she told me the secret。
'If you must know；' said Carolina； 'I find； from what I have overheard；
that mistress is haunted。'
'How haunted？'
'By a dream。'
'What dream？'
'By a dream of a face。 For three nights before her marriage； she saw
a face in a dream … always the same face； and only One。'
'A terrible face？'
'No。 The face of a dark； remarkable…looking man； in black； with
black hair and a grey moustache … a handsome man except for a reserved
and secret air。 Not a face she ever saw； or at all like a face she ever saw。
Doing nothing in the dream but looking at her fixedly； out of darkness。'
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'Does the dream come back？'
'Never。 The recollection of it is all her trouble。'
'And why does it trouble her？'
Carolina shook her head。
'That's master's question；' said la bella。 'She don't know。 She
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。
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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；
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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。