see it with my own eyes, Fabio.'
We both stood silent; then a horrible thought struck me.
'Do you know—when they meet?' I whispered.
He groaned. I asked again.
'God help me!'
'You know? I command you to tell me.'
'They did not know you were coming back till after to-morrow.'
'He is coming?'
'To-day.'
'Oh!' I seized him by the hand. 'Take me, and let me see them.'
'What will you do?' he asked, horror-stricken.
'Never mind, take me!'
Trembling, he led me through ante-rooms and passages, till he brought me to a staircase. We mounted the steps and came to a little door. He opened it very quietly, and we found ourselves behind the arras of Giulia's chamber. I had forgotten the existence of door and steps, and she knew nothing of them. There was an opening in the tapestry to give exit.
No one was in the room. We waited, holding our breath. At last Giulia entered. She walked to the window and looked out, and went back to the door. She sat down, but sprang up restlessly, and again looked out of window. Whom was she expecting?
She walked up and down the room, and her face was full of anxiety. I watched intently. At last a light knock was heard; she opened the door and a man came in. A small, slight, thin man, with a quantity of corn-coloured hair falling over his shoulders, and a pale, fair skin. He had blue eyes, and a little golden moustache. He looked hardly twenty, but I knew he was older.
He sprang forward, seizing her in his arms, and he pressed her to his heart, but she pushed him back.
'Oh, Giorgio, you must go,' she cried. 'He has come back.'
'Your husband?'
'I hoped you would not come. Go quickly. If he found you he would kill us both.'
'Tell me you love me, Giulia.'
'Oh yes, I love you with all my heart and soul.'
For a moment they stood still in one another's arms, then she tore herself away.
'But go, for God's sake!'
'I go, my love. Good-bye!'
'Good-bye, beloved!'
He took her in his arms again, and she placed hers around his neck. They kissed one another passionately on the lips; she kissed him as she had never kissed me.
'Oh!' I gave a cry of rage, and leaped out of my concealment. In a bound I had reached him. They hardly knew I was there; and I had plunged my dagger in his neck. Giulia gave a piercing shriek as he fell with a groan. The blood spattered over my hand. Then I looked at her. She ran from me with terror-stricken face, her eyes starting from her head. I rushed to her and she shrieked again, but Fabio caught hold of my arm.
'Not her, not her too!'
I wrenched my hand away from him, and then—then as I saw her pallid face and the look of deathly terror—I stopped. I could not kill her.
'Lock that door,' I said to Fabio, pointing to the one from which we had come. Then, looking at her, I screamed,—
'Harlot!'
I called to Fabio, and we left the room. I locked the door, and she remained shut in with her lover....
I called my servants and bade them follow me, and went out. I walked proudly, surrounded by my retainers, and I came to the house of Bartolomeo Moratini. He had just finished dinner, and was sitting with his sons. They rose as they saw me.
'Ah, Filippo, you have returned.' Then, seeing my pale face, they cried, 'But what is it? What has happened?'
And Bartolomeo broke in.
'What is that on your hand, Filippo?'
I stretched it out, so that he might see.
'That—that is the blood of your daughter's lover.'
'Oh!'
'I found them together, and I killed the adulterer.'
Bartolomeo kept silence a moment, then he said,—
'You have done well, Filippo.' He turned to his sons. 'Scipione, give me my sword.'
He girded it on, and then he spoke to me.
'Sir,' he said, 'I beg you to wait here till I come.'
I bowed.
'Sir, I am your servant.'
'Scipione, Alessandro, follow me!'
And accompanied by his sons, he left the room, and I remained alone.
The servants peeped in at the door, looking at me as if I were some strange beast, and fled when I turned round. I walked up and down, up and down; I looked out of window. In the street the people were going to and fro, singing, and talking as if nothing had happened. They did not know that death was flying through the air; they did not know that the happiness of living men had gone for ever.
At last I heard the steps again, and Bartolomeo Moratini entered the room, followed by his sons; and all three were very grave.
'Sir,' he said, 'the stain on your honour and mine has been effaced.'
I bowed more deeply than before.
'Sir, I am your very humble servant.'
'I thank you that you allowed me to do my duty as a father; and I regret that a member of my family should have shown herself unworthy of my name and yours. I will detain you no longer.'
I bowed again, and left them.
XL
I WALKED back to my house. It was very silent, and as I passed up the stairs the servants shrunk back with averted faces, as if they were afraid to look at me.
'Where is Fabio?' I asked.
A page whispered timidly,—
'In the chapel.'
I turned on my heel, and passed through the rooms, one after another, till I came to the chapel door. I pushed it open and entered. A dim light came through the painted windows, and I could hardly see. In the centre were two bodies covered with a cloth, and their heads were lighted by the yellow gleam of candles. At their feet knelt an old man, praying. It was Fabio.
I advanced and drew back the cloth; and I fell on my knees. Giulia
