This voice does not contain a threat, it has nothing of rancor in it, it is peaceful and low,—and yet it does not seem to issue from the lips;—uttered thus from the inmost depth of the heart as from the bottom of a sepulchre, it had the power of infusing a chill through the frame of Troilo.
And Troilo sat down.
"Troilo, I have words to say which it behooves me to speak, and you to listen to them in the shadows of darkness; ... in the mysterious silence of night.... Troilo, after three long years of absence I return home.... But is this to which I have returned my home? Can I sleep safely in it? Can I sit without suspicion at my own table?..."
Troilo, thus taken by surprise, was silent.
"Troilo! When I departed from home, knowing that the woman who was my wife ... who is my wife, was changeable in her fancy, of manners more free and loose than becomes a haughty lady, the fault perhaps of her education ... ready to pass all limits ... somewhat petulant and obstinate ... I hated to confide the treasure of my honor to, I will not say unfaithful, but certainly dangerous hands.—In whom could I better trust than my own blood? I therefore chose you, I intrusted to you my honor, which is also yours, and begged you with tears in my eyes to keep a good and vigilant watch over it.... Do you remember it, Troilo? Is it not true? Would you deny it?... And even if you would, could you?"
"It is true."
"And do you remember the promises which you made then? Have you always remembered them? Now tell me: how have you kept your loyal watch over my wife?"
The Duke kept his arm with closed hand stretched upon the table; the muscles of his forehead were horribly swollen, his eyebrows frowning, and his eyes sparkled under them through the ruffled hair like fire burning in the midst of a thorn bush. Troilo still kept silent; and the Duke said again:
"How have you kept your loyal watch over my wife?"
As there was no reply, he continued: