d
slowly descended the staircase.

The passage leading to the cellar in which Julio had thrown Geronimo's
body was rather long, and he had time to feel the effect of the wine, and
it so raised his spirits that he commenced jesting about hid past anxiety,
and on nearing the cellar he sang the first notes of a joyful song.

But the words expired upon his lips, he trembled in every limb, and turned
ashy pale.

A voice answered him from the cellar.

Immovable from terror, Julio fixed his eyes upon the door, and strove to
comprehend the words which fell indistinctly upon his ear.

"Heavens!" he exclaimed, "it is Geronimo; he lives!"

Shuddering, he withdrew a short distance down the passage, and was for a
time as motionless as a statue. At last, with deep emotion, he said:

"What can this mean? The signor said at the first thrust his dagger met
metal, but that the wound in his neck was deep. Suppose it were merely a
flesh-wound? What shall I do? Shall I let him live?"

He was painfully undecided.

"Impossible!" he said. "It would be the death-warrant of both my master
and myself. I must choose between his death and ours. Implacable fatality
urges me on--in truth, I have no choice. One blow, and all is over! I must
not hesitate; my knife is sharp."

He drew his dagger from its scabbard, examined the blade, tried it with
his finger. He shuddered, and a cry of horror escaped him.

"Fatal position!" he exclaimed. "To kill a man in cold blood! an innocent
man! What harm has poor Geronimo ever done me? Stab him! My heart fails
me--I cannot perpetrate such a cruelty. And yet, and yet I must! The crime
horrifies me, but I have no alternative. Only by the sacrifice of his life
can my master escape the scaffold, and I the gallows. Fate irresistibly
pursues me; I am the slave of necessity--I must follow whither it leads!"

With staggering step and in a blind frenzy, Julio ran down the passage,
caught his dagger between his teeth, put the key in the lock, and turned
the light so that it might fall upon his victim.

He stopped trembling in the middle of the cellar, and pity filled his soul
as his eye rested on Geronimo. He had indeed drawn his dagger to complete
the horrible crime; but now, touched and moved by compassion, he
considered the unfortunate young man, who extended to him his suppliant
hands and begged for help.

Geronimo was kneeling on the side of the grave which had been dug to
receive his corpse. His face w