"Why so surly, countess?" the fierce butler added. "If I did not have in my hands the secret that could lead to your perdition, if I could not apprise the count of certain particulars with reference to that young nobleman. But I will not use these terrible weapons against you. One day you will understand me and know how selfless is the great love that you have been able to inspire in me."
As he said this Mudarra moved a few steps nearer to the countess who distanced herself with horror and repugnance from that monster. Mudarra was a man of around fifty, dark-skinned, thickset and knock-kneed, with rough, untidy hair and a big mouth full of teeth. His eyes, half hidden behind the luxuriant growth of wide, black and very thick eyebrows, expressed at moments like these the most bestial concupiscence.
"Ah porcupine!" he angrily exclaimed on seeing the lady's natural reticence. "How unfortunate I am not to be a dapper young chap! Such prudery knowing full well I can tell the count and have no doubt that he'll believe me, Your Ladyship: the count has so much trust in me that he takes what I say as gospel and he'll be full of jealousy if I show him the paper."
"Scoundrel!" shouted the countess with a noble display of righteous indignation. "I am innocent and my husband will not give credence to such vile slanders. And even if I were guilty I would prefer a thousand times over for my husband and the whole world to despise me than to buy peace of mind at that price. Leave here at once."
"I too have a temper, countess," said the butler swallowing his rage. "I too can lose it and get angry and since Your Ladyship is making a big thing of this, let's make a big thing of it. I already know what I have to do and I've been until now far too affable. One last time I put it to Your Ladyship that we should be friends and don't make me do something you'll regret, and so my lady."
On saying this Mudarra contracted the parchment-like skin and the rigid tendons of his face making a grimace like a smile and took a few more steps as if to sit down on the sofa next to the countess. The latter jumped up shouting: "No! Leave! Scoundrel! And not to have anyone here to defend me. Leave!"
The butler then was like a wild animal that lets go of the prey it was holding a moment before in its claws. He breathed heavily, made a threatening gesture and slowly left with soft footfalls. The countess, trembling and out of breath, having taken refuge in a corner of the room, heard the footfalls which faded away on the carpet of the room next door and finally breathed when she judged him to be far away. She closed the doors and tried to sleep, but sleep eluded her, her eyes still full of terror at the image of the monster.
CHAPTER XI The Plot
Mudarra, on leaving the countess's room, went in the direction of his own and, dominated by a strong feeling of nervous anxiety, started to search for letters and papers muttering to himself: "I can't stand it anymore. You'll pay me back for all of this." Then he sat down, took up his pen, and, putting in front of him one of those letters and examining it closely, he began to write another, trying to copy the writing. He moved his eyes feverishly from the model to the copy and finally, after a great deal of work, he wrote with writing totally identical to that of the model, the following letter, the sentiments in which were of his own making: I promised to meet with you and I'm hastening to carry out that promise.
The newspaper in which this serial appeared was torn and I could read no further.