But Simon Turchi heeded not this jest. He muttered a few indistinct words, drew his sword, and rushed down the steps to wreak his vengeance on the unfortunate Geronimo.
The servant remained where his master left him, listened to his footsteps until he heard the door of the fatal room open and then close again.
At first no sound reached his ear, but soon he heard Geronimo calling for help, and his master mocking and menacing him; at least he judged this by the tones of their voices, for he was too far off to distinguish the words. Urged by feeling rather than curiosity, he descended the staircase, and listened at the door of the room in which so horrible a crime was about to be committed.
He heard Geronimo say, in an earnest, pleading tone:
"Dear Simon, your mind is deranged. You, my friend, kill me! It is impossible. Put down that dagger; at least let me not die without confession. If it be the ten thousand crowns exasperating you, I make you a present of them; tear up in my presence the acknowledgment of the debt, and I will never speak to you of it again."
"Mary, Mary Van de Werve!" howled Simon Turchi, with biting sarcasm.
"I will renounce her hand and leave for Italy, and never again will I see a country so fatal to me, to her, to all that I love."
"It is too late—too late. You must die!"
"No, no, Simon; in pity to yourself do not imbue your hands in my innocent blood. God sees us; your conscience will torture you; never again will there be peace for you on earth, and your poor soul will be miserable for all eternity. No, Simon, do not kill me."
Then came a frightful cry, as though he were crushed, and Julio heard a sound which seemed like that of a dagger against metal.