"You agree with me then! I am inevitably forced to use severity: would that I knew at least the man who did not scruple to contaminate my house while I was shedding my blood for the Faith ... the man whom neither the respect due to my house ... nay, more than that, the fear of my sword did not deter from this abominable crime!—Ah! I would think myself less unhappy if I could plunge my hands in his blood, and tear forth his heart.... And, believe me, Troilo, I would do it, as true as there is a God ... but the coward hides himself.... Oh, who art thou, who wounded me so mortally, and did not take my life? What is thy name?—Show thyself!—Alas! how painful is the offence done by an obscure, abject, and unknown person, against whom we cannot revenge ourselves, or revenging we may be more stained by the revenge itself than by the insult."
"Indeed such offences deserve an atonement of blood."
"But since I cannot shed that of the hated seducer ... what think you?"
"It seems to me...."
"No ... no faltering," said the Duke rising to his feet; "here it is necessary that you should reveal to me your whole mind."
"Then...."
"Then?... Why do you hesitate? Here no one can overhear us ... no one."
"Then ... the jealous honor of the family requires that ... that Isabella should disappear from the world."
"It is well," replied the Duke; and stretching his hand to the curtains of the bed, he drew them aside, adding:—"Behold ... I have done it."
"Vengeance of God!" cried Troilo, rising and staggering back two or three steps with his hands in his hair.