On the mantel-piece are three photographs in silver frames: Judith, Carlotta, Pasquale.

That which is of mockery in the spirit of each seems to-night to be hovering round the portraits and to be making sport of me.

An autumn gale is howling among the trees outside, like a legion of lost souls.

Listen.
Messer Diavolo himself might be riding by with a whoop of derision..