d to be legal, and that, after
all, were not so unjust when practiced upon persons professedly vile.
For instance, the iron coffin of Lissa--that ingeniously contrived box
in which the criminal was bound fast hand and foot, and then was forced
to watch the huge lid descending slowly, slowly, slowly, half an inch
at a time, till at last its ponderous weight crushed into a flat and
mangled mass the writhing wretch within, who had for long agonized
hours watched death steadily approaching. Suppose that _I_ had such a
coffin now! I stopped my train of reflection with a slight shudder. No,
no; she whom I sought to punish was so lovely, such a softly colored,
witching, gracious body, though tenanted by a wicked soul--she should
keep her beauty! I would not destroy that--I would be satisfied with my
plan as already devised.

I threw away the end of my smoked-out cigar and entered my own rooms.
Calling Vincenzo, who was now resigned and even eager to go to
Avellino, I gave him his final instructions, and placed in his charge
the iron cash-box, which, unknown to him, contained 12,000 francs in
notes and gold. This was the last good action I could do: it was a
sufficient sum to set him up as a well-to-do farmer and fruit-grower in
Avellino with Lilla and her little dowry combined. He also carried a
sealed letter to Signora Monti, which I told him she was not to open
till a week had elapsed; this letter explained the contents of the box
and my wishes concerning it; it also asked the good woman to send to
the Villa Romani for Assunta and her helpless charge, poor old
paralyzed Giacomo, and to tend the latter as well as she could till his
death, which I knew could not be far off.

I had thought of everything as far as possible, and I could already
foresee what a happy, peaceful home there would be in the little
mountain town guarded by the Monte Vergine. Lilla and Vincenzo would
wed, I knew; Signora Monti and Assunta would console each other with
their past memories and in the tending of Lilla's children; for some
little time, perhaps, they would talk of me and wonder sorrowfully
where I had gone; then gradually they would forget me, even as I
desired to be forgotten.

Yes; I had done all I could for those who had never wronged me. I had
acquitted myself of my debt to Vincenzo for his affection and fidelity;
the rest of my way was clear. I had no more to do save the ONE THING,
the one deed which had clamored so long for accomplis