ut maledictions upon the name."

"Whose name?"

"Yours, signor?"

Simon Turchi was so overpowered by the picture thus presented of his
probable end, that he uttered a cry of terror and sprang back, trembling.
He cast down his eyes for a moment in silence.

Julio contemplated the signor, thus overpowered by emotion, with a
derisive smile. He had not called up this vivid scene solely as a means to
induce his master to renounce his perilous enterprise; his motive was also
to terrify him and to revenge himself for the violence he had been forced
to endure from him.

The impression made upon Simon Turchi by this highly-wrought prediction
did not last long. He raised his head, and said, in a contemptuous manner:

"Base hypocrite; it is your own fear which excites your imagination to see
such things. The most courageous man would become cowardly with the
cowardly. It is unfortunate for me that I need you, otherwise I would soon
rid myself of your presence. But I, at least, will not recoil from the
undertaking. Speak; tell me how far I may depend upon you. The clock will
soon strike, and there is no time for hesitation."

"We will see which of us will the more coolly perform his part of the
task. You are mistaken, signor; fear does not disturb me. Sympathy for you
suggested the train of thought, and I considered it my duty to place
before your eyes once more the abyss into which you might fall."

"Be silent; it is too late," exclaimed Simon Turchi, beside himself with
rage. "Fool, do you desire my ruin--my eternal dishonor? Shall I let my
enemy live? Shall I let him--him the husband of Mary Van de Werve--look
down upon me from the height of his grandeur and felicity? No, no. I
myself will be, must be, happy, rich, prosperous; and even should all
escape my grasp; should the scaffold be my lot, the rage of vengeance
which lacerates my heart must be satisfied.... Nothing, nothing, can
restrain me; and, Julio, were you an obstacle in my path, I would pass
over your dead body to strike a fatal blow at him who has poisoned my
life. Do not attempt to thwart me, or I will crush you where you stand."

At these words Simon Turchi placed his hand on the hilt of his sword; his
face was scarlet, his lips trembled, and his eyes flashed.

This threat did not disturb Julio, probably because he thought his master
could not execute it. An ironical smile played upon his lips; he stepped
back one or two paces, drew his knife, and said, m