"Impossible?" repeated Turchi, "he would have gone ere this, had I not persuaded him that he would obtain his uncle's pardon. Even on the day of your arrival, Signor Deodati, when Geronimo met me in the dock-yard on the bank of the Scheldt, he begged me to inquire for an English vessel which would leave on that or the next day, and secretly to engage his passage on board. You may well know that I combated this foolish project, and I left him only when he promised me to abandon the idea."
"Could he so lightly sacrifice my daughter's love?" said Mr. Van de Werve. "Were his expressions of affection for her only hypocrisy? No, no; nothing can induce me to believe that."
"His love was real," replied Turchi, "and its very depth, perhaps, blinded his judgment. He thought that the discovery of his losses at the gaming-table would inevitably deprive him of all hope of Mary's hand. My poor friend! he wished to fly from the fate which threatened him, that he might not witness the affliction of his beloved uncle."
No one replied to Simon's remarks, and he said, with hypocritical surprise:
"How sad you both are! You should rather rejoice at my revelation. Is it not a happiness to think that Geronimo, although guilty of a fault, is still alive, and not to be forced to believe that he is forever lost to our affection by a frightful death?"
Old Deodati arose and said:
"My friends, I must leave you; my mind is troubled; I am ill. Besides, I wish to discover by the books the truth or falsity of Signor Turchi's statement. Do not attempt to detain me, I beg you. Adieu! May God guard you!"
Simon Turchi prepared to accompany the old man; but whilst they were speaking together the bailiff, Messire John Van Schoonhoven, suddenly entered, and without the formality of a salutation, he exclaimed:
"Gentlemen, I have news!"
Turchi trembled and turned pale; but as the unexpected announcement of the bailiff had startled the others, his emotion was not attributed to terror.