Turchi fell, as if from exhaustion, upon a chair, and said, in a voice broken by sobs:
"No, signor, ask me nothing; I could not break your heart by such stunning tidings. Alas! alas! who anticipated such a misfortune? My unhappy friend! my poor Geronimo!"
A torrent of tears fell from his eyes, and while Deodati and Mr. Van de Werve begged him to tell the cause of big extraordinary emotion, he stammered:
"Oh! let me be silent; despair tortures my heart. I can tell no one but the bailiff; he will soon be here. If I could but doubt! But no, it is too true; there is no more hope! May the God of mercy receive his poor soul into heaven!"
"Of whom do you speak?" exclaimed Deodati. "His soul? Whose soul?
Geronimo's?"
Steps were heard in the vestibule. Simon Turchi went to the door, and said:
"Here is the bailiff! He will know the secret which is breaking my heart."
The bailiff entered the room, looked around in surprise, and at last said to Simon Turchi, who continued to talk confusedly:
"You have sent for me in all haste, in order to make a terrible revelation; I am here with my officers. Have you discovered Geronimo's assassins? Speak, Simon, and tell us what you know."
"So horrible is this secret, messire, that my tongue refuses to tell it.
Ah! if I could forever—"