“I am called Pascal Bruno,” said the young man, in so calm a voice that you might have imagined every emotion had passed away if the paleness of his features had not been evidence of the internal struggle.
“Pascal Bruno!” cried the countess, drawing back in her chair in terror. “Pascal Bruno! You, the son of Antonio Bruno, whose head is placed in an iron cage at the Château de Bauso?”
“I am his son,” coolly replied the young man.
“And do you not know,” asked the countess, “why your father’s head is placed there? Speak!” Pascal remained silent. “Well,” continued the countess, “it was because your father attempted to assassinate mine.”
“I know all that, madame,” replied Pascal, calmly; “and I know, besides, that when you, then a child, was taken into the village, your attendants showed you that head, and told you it was my father’s head; but they did not tell you, madame, that your father dishonoured mine.”
“Thou liest!” passionately exclaimed the countess.
“May God punish me if I tell not the truth. Madame, my mother was beautiful and virtuous; your father, the count, became enamoured of her: but she resisted all his importunities, all his promises, and all his threats; but one day, when my father had gone to Taormina, the count caused her to be carried off by four men, taken to a small house that belonged to him between Limero and Furnari (it is now a tavern), and there—madame—he violated her!”
“The count was lord and master of the village of Bauso,” said Gemma, proudly. “Both the property and the persons of its inhabitants belonged to him, and he did your mother much honour by admiring her.”
“My father did not think so it appears,” said Pascal, knitting his brow. “That, perhaps, was because he was born at Stilla, on the lands of the Prince de Moncada Paterno; and on that account he struck the count. The wound was not mortal; so much the better. For a long time I deeply regretted it; but now, to my shame, I congratulate myself on it.”
“If my memory be correct,” said the countess, “not only was your father put to death as murderer, but your uncles are still at the galleys.”