in Hoboken. Street, a young
gentleman with a white plume in his hat. Be quiet, I myself will deal the
blow, and I will not miss the mark."

"Adieu, Bufferio."

"Adieu, Julio."

The ruffian accompanied the servant to the lower story, opened the door of
the street, and closed it behind him.

When Julio found himself in the open air, he walked a short distance, then
stopped, drew a long breath as if a heavy weight had fallen from his
shoulders, and said, joyously:

"Heavens! what an escape! I doubt if I am really alive. The difficult
affair is at last concluded. The signor says that I am a coward. I would
like to see him in that room with that infernal woman and the terrible
Bufferio. Now I must go to Geronimo. My greatest difficulty is yet to
come. If I get through it successfully, I may well say that I was born
under a lucky star. But I cannot tarry, I have still a long distance to
walk."

He quickened his pace and soon reached the street on which the Dominican
Convent stood; he passed the Abbey of Saint Michael and the Mint, and
entered the grand square without being molested.

On the way he kept his hand in his pocket, that he might enjoy the
pleasure of passing the gold coin through his fingers. He muttered to
himself that he had gained three gold crowns which his master would never
see again, were he to live a hundred years. Once free from his present
care and anxiety, he would take his seat at a gaming-table, where he would
remain all day, and perhaps he could win heaps of gold.

Absorbed in these thoughts, he reached Geronimo's residence and knocked at
the door. It was soon opened, and he was conducted into a room on the
ground floor, where the young gentleman, in his cap and cloak, seemed to
be waiting the arrival of friends.

"Peace be to this house!" said Julio, bowing. "Signor, I bring you a
message which I would deliver with more pleasure were it less sad. My poor
master is ill with fever, and is unable to leave his bed. He begs you to
excuse him from accompanying you to-night to the serenade."

Geronimo's countenance assumed an expression of deep compassion. The young
man concluded that his own happiness, his approaching marriage with Miss
Van de Werve, had touched the heart of his poor friend, and that his
present state of health was the consequence of these painful emotions.

"Did the fever attack him suddenly, Julio?" he asked. "Is he very ill?"

"No, signor. It may not have any bad conseque