"Very well; between two and three."
"I will call for you to accompany me, signor. Do not be disturbed by this domiciliary visit; it implies no suspicion, but, as I said before, it is a simple condescension to the populace. Shall I have the honor of meeting you this evening at the house of Mr. Van de Werve?"
"I do not know, messire. Mary's excessive grief affects me so much that it haunts me day and night. Would that I could offer the least consolation to the afflicted young girl! But of what use is it to mingle my tears with hers, when there is no ray of hope to illumine the darkness of her despair?"
Messire Van Schoonhoven pressed Simon's hand.
"Your sincere friendship for Geronimo does you honor, signor," he said. "Were he your own brother, you could not be more deeply grieved. And how great is your generosity! Geronimo was your friend, but he was at the same time an obstacle to the accomplishment of the dearest wish of your heart. Through affection for him you have sacrificed your fondest hopes of happiness. But the inexplicable disappearance of Geronimo spreads out before you a brighter future. Time will alleviate the bitterness of Mary's sorrow, and who so well as yourself, signor, could restore her to happiness—you who possess her father's confidence and esteem?"
"Speak not of such things," said Simon. "I would gladly yield all the happiness the future might have in store for me to see my friend once more unharmed. But alas! alas!"
"That does not prevent me, signor, from cherishing the hope that, if Geronimo is really dead, you may one day receive the reward of your sincere friendship and your magnanimous generosity. To-morrow at two o'clock! May God be with you, signor!"
"And may He protect you, messire!"
Simon Turchi watched him until he was lost to sight, and then glanced around in order to note the degree of darkness. He drew his cloak closely around him, and walked rapidly down a side street, which soon brought him before the gate of his own garden. Unlocking the door, he traversed the walk rendered almost invisible by the darkness.
Beaching the house, he lighted a lamp and ascended the stairs to a room, which, in better times, he was accustomed to use as a bed-room, when occasionally he passed the night at the pavilion.