"Never."

The priest preceded him up the stair, which was dimly illuminated
by small electric lights. Suddenly, where the first flight reaches a
landing, the lights went out. Benedetto, pausing with one foot on the
landing, heard his guide run rapidly up some stairs on the right. Then
all was silence. He supposed the light had gone out by accident, and
that the priest had gone to turn it on again. He waited. No light, no
footfall, no voice. He stepped on to the landing; stretching out his
hands in the darkness, he touched a wall on the left; he went forward
towards the right, feeling his way. By touching them with his foot he
became aware of two flights of stairs which branched from the landing.
He waited again, never doubting the priest would return.

Five minutes, ten minutes passed and the priest did not come. What could
have happened. Had they wished to deceive him, to make sport of him? But
why? Benedetto would not allow himself to dwell upon a suspicion about
which it was useless to speculate. He reflected rather upon what it was
best to do. It did not seem reasonable to wait any longer. Had he better
turn back? Had he better go up still higher? In that case, which stair
should he choose? He looked into himself, questioning the Ever-Present
One.

No, he would not turn back. The idea was displeasing to him. He
started up one of the flights, without choosing--the one leading to
the servants' rooms. It was short; presently Benedetto found himself on
another landing. Now, he had heard the priest run up many stairs rapidly
and without stopping, and the noise of his steps had been lost far, far
above. He came down again, and tried the other flight. It was longer.
The priest must have mounted this one. He decided to follow the priest.

On reaching the top he passed through a low door, and found himself upon
the Loggia, illumined by the moon. He looked about him. Near at hand,
on the right, a gateway divided this Loggia from another one, the two
meeting there and forming a right angle. Far away, on the left, the
Loggia terminated at a closed door. The full moon shone through the
great, glazed spaces, upon the pavement; showed the sides of the
courtyard of San Damaso: and in the background, between the two enormous
black wings of the Palace, humble roofs, the trees of Villa Cesi and the
lights of Sant' Onofrio were visible. Both the door on the left, and the
gateway on the right appeared to be closed. Again and again Be