She arose and walked slowly towards the door. Tears flowed down her cheeks; she supported her trembling limbs by leaning on the arm of her duenna. Mr. Van de Werve feared she would lose consciousness before reaching her own apartment.
All, with the exception of the perfidious Turchi, were moved by compassion for the unhappy young girl.
As the duenna opened the door to let her mistress pass out, strange sounds were heard in the vestibule.
Mary started, and stepped back into the room, as though in presence of some apparition.
"It is his ghost, his spirit," she exclaimed, "arisen from the grave to demand vengeance upon his murderers!"
She gazed with intense emotion, then added, in accents of the wildest joy:
"He smiles upon me; it is himself! He lives! It is Geronimo!"
Pronouncing this cherished name, she fell insensible in the arms of her attendant, who, assisted by the bailiff, carried her to an armchair.
Signor Geronimo entered. His face was as pale and fleshless as that of a skeleton. The wound he had received in his neck appeared like a large spot of clotted blood—his garments were disordered, soiled, and blood stained. He seemed really a spectre just arisen from the tomb.
As soon as Turchi recognized his victim, he recoiled, uttering a cry of terror; and imagining that God had permitted a miracle in order to punish his crime, he extended his trembling hands to Geronimo, as if to implore pardon.