Immovable from terror, Julio fixed his eyes upon the door, and strove to comprehend the words which fell indistinctly upon his ear.
"Heavens!" he exclaimed, "it is Geronimo; he lives!"
Shuddering, he withdrew a short distance down the passage, and was for a time as motionless as a statue. At last, with deep emotion, he said:
"What can this mean? The signor said at the first thrust his dagger met metal, but that the wound in his neck was deep. Suppose it were merely a flesh-wound? What shall I do? Shall I let him live?"
He was painfully undecided.
"Impossible!" he said. "It would be the death-warrant of both my master and myself. I must choose between his death and ours. Implacable fatality urges me on—in truth, I have no choice. One blow, and all is over! I must not hesitate; my knife is sharp."
He drew his dagger from its scabbard, examined the blade, tried it with his finger. He shuddered, and a cry of horror escaped him.
"Fatal position!" he exclaimed. "To kill a man in cold blood! an innocent man! What harm has poor Geronimo ever done me? Stab him! My heart fails me—I cannot perpetrate such a cruelty. And yet, and yet I must! The crime horrifies me, but I have no alternative. Only by the sacrifice of his life can my master escape the scaffold, and I the gallows. Fate irresistibly pursues me; I am the slave of necessity—I must follow whither it leads!"
With staggering step and in a blind frenzy, Julio ran down the passage, caught his dagger between his teeth, put the key in the lock, and turned the light so that it might fall upon his victim.
He stopped trembling in the middle of the cellar, and pity filled his soul as his eye rested on Geronimo. He had indeed drawn his dagger to complete the horrible crime; but now, touched and moved by compassion, he considered the unfortunate young man, who extended to him his suppliant hands and begged for help.