When I had accomplished this deed I stared at the result like a man stupefied.  No moldering horror met my gaze—­no blanched or decaying bones; no grinning skull mocked me with its hollow eye-sockets.  I looked upon a treasure worthy of an emperor’s envy!  The big coffin was literally lined and packed with incalculable wealth.  Fifty large leathern bags tied with coarse cord lay uppermost; more than half of these were crammed with gold coins, the rest were full of priceless gems—­necklaces, tiaras, bracelets, watches, chains, and other articles of feminine adornment were mingled with loose precious stones—­diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and opals, some of unusual size and luster, some uncut, and some all ready for the jeweler’s setting.  Beneath these bags were packed a number of pieces of silk, velvet, and cloth of gold, each piece being wrapped by itself in a sort of oil-skin, strongly perfumed with camphor and other spices.  There were also three lengths of old lace, fine as gossamer, of matchless artistic design, in perfect condition.  Among these materials lay two large trays of solid gold workmanship, most exquisitely engraved and ornamented, also four gold drinking-cups, of quaint and massive construction.  Other valuables and curious trifles there were, such as an ivory statuette of Psyche on a silver pedestal, a waistband of coins linked together, a painted fan with a handle set in amber and turquois, a fine steel dagger in a jeweled sheath, and a mirror framed in old pearls.  Last, but not least, at the very bottom of the chest lay rolls upon rolls of paper money amounting to some millions of francs—­in all far surpassing what I had myself formerly enjoyed from my own revenues.  I plunged my hands deep in the leathern bags; I fingered the rich materials; all this treasure was mine!  I had found it in my own burial vault!  I had surely the right to consider it as my property?  I began to consider--how could it have been placed there without my knowledge?  The answer to this question occurred to me at once.  Brigands!  Of course!—­what a fool I was not to have thought of them before; the dagger painted on the lid of the chest should have guided me to the solution of the mystery.  A red dagger was the recognized sign-manual of a bold and dangerous brigand named Carmelo Neri, who, with his reckless gang, haunted the vicinity of Palermo.

“So!” I thought, “this is one of your bright ideas, my cut-throat Carmelo!  Cunning rogue! you calculated well—­you thought that none would disturb the dead, much less break open a coffin in search of gold.  Admirably planned, my Carmelo!  But this time you must play a losing game!  A supposed dead man coming to life again deserves something for his trouble, and I should be a fool not to accept the goods the gods and the robbers provide.  An ill-gotten hoard of wealth, no doubt; but better in my hands than in yours friend Carmelo!”