As he said these last words, he proceeded down the alley, but soon stopped near the pump, and said in an undertone: 

“Bufferio lives here.  How dark it is!  I can hardly see the door; but I am not mistaken.  Here the terrible ruffian has his lair.  Strange, how I tremble!  Perhaps it is a warning of some misfortune about to happen to me!  Suppose they should take my money and murder me to conceal the theft.  What shall I do?  Shall I tell my master that I could not find Bufferio?  Alas! the Superintendent of Lucca!”

After a moment of anxious thought he walked towards the low door, saying, with a sigh: 

“Come, come; I can do nothing else.  Of two evils choose the least!”

Although his words indicated an energetic resolution, his hand trembled as he raised the knocker of the little door and twice let it fall.

It gave out a deep hollow sound, as though it were the door of a vault for the dead.

A long time passed, and no noise within gave evidence that his call was heeded.

The visitor became still more terrified in the supposition, that no one was in the house, and that consequently he would be obliged to return, without concluding the affair, to his master, who would not believe him.

In the little dark door was a small opening, protected by a grating.  Behind the iron bars two eyes were fixed on the person who had knocked, and if he had been left apparently unnoticed, it was probably because two inquisitive eyes endeavored to pierce the darkness in order to recognize the untimely visitor.

A harsh voice at last asked from behind the grating: 

“Who knocked?”

The man in the cloak started back.  The unexpected question so close to his ear made him tremble violently.  However, he soon controlled himself and replied in Italian: 

“Woman, I do not understand the Flemish tongue.  You must know Italian, as Bufferio is a Roman.  Tell me if Bufferio is at home.”

“Who are you?” she replied, in Italian jargon.

“Who am I?  I come to arrange a secret affair with Bufferio, and I do not choose to tell my name.”

“You are an agent of the bailiff, and you wish to deceive me.  Go on your way and leave me in peace.  Bufferio is not at home.”

The man took some pieces of silver from his pocket and rattled them together.

“You are mistaken, woman.  I have need of the services of Bufferio for an important affair.  He may gain a few crowns of gold.  I come with the cash in hand:  you understand.”

Two bolts grated in their rusty staples, and the door opened.

“Enter, signor,” said the woman, “and follow me.”

“I do not see you; it is as black as Erebus; where is the staircase?” cried out the other.

“Follow me, signor.  Give me your hand; I will precede you.”

She seized the hand of the visitor, and whilst guiding him to the staircase, she said: