Pascal Bruno went straight up to Teresa, and stopping before her, he folded his arms, and looked fixedly at her.
“Is it you, Pascal?” stammered Teresa.
“Yes, it is I,” said Bruno, in a hoarse voice; “I heard at Bauso, where I was waiting for you, that you were about to be married at Carini, and I have come in time, I hope, to dance the first tarantella with you.”
“It is the right of the bridegroom,” observed Gaetano, going up to him and interfering.
“It is the right of the lover,” replied Bruno. “Come, Teresa, I think it is the least you can do for me.”
“Teresa is my wife,” exclaimed Gaetano, extending his arm towards her.
“She is my betrothed,” cried Pascal, taking her by the hand.
“Help! help!” exclaimed Teresa.
Gaetano seized Pascal by the collar, but at the same instant he uttered a loud cry and fell. Pascal’s dagger was buried in his chest up to the hilt. The men appeared by their actions to be about to seize upon the murderer, who quietly drew a pistol from his waist and cocked it, then with the hand that held it, he made a sign to the musicians to play the tarantella; they obeyed mechanically, while all the guests remained motionless.
“Come, Teresa,” said Bruno.