In that instant a piercing scream rang through the stillness of the church, and startled me so that I stood there for some seconds, frozen in horror, a hundred wild conjectures leaping to my mind.
Had Ramiro remained hidden, and was he returned?
Did the scream mean that Madonna Paola had been awakened by his rough hands?
A second time it came, and now it seemed to break the hideous spell that its first utterance had cast over me.

Dropping the leather bottle, I sped back, down the stone passage to the door that abutted on the chancel.
There, by the high-altar, I saw a form that seemed at first luminous and ghostly, but in which presently I recognised Madonna Paola, the dim rays of the distant tapers finding out the white robe with which her limbs were hung.

She was alone, and I knew then that it was but the very natural fear consequent upon awakening in such a place that had provoked the cry I had heard.
"Madonna," I called, advancing swiftly towards her.

"Madonna Paola!" There was a gasp, a moment's stillness, then-- "Lazzaro ?" She cried, questioningly.

"What has happened?
Why am I here ?" I was beside her now, and found her trembling like an aspen.
"Something horrible has happened, Madonna," I answered.