This blow, however—if it were a blow—was not mortal, for Geronimo raised his voice with the strength of despair, and cried out:
"Help! help! Simon, let me live! Mercy! mercy!"
Then a mournful groan escaped his lips, while, as his voice died away, h prayed:
"My God, my God, forgive him! I am dying."
On hearing the conclusion of this horrible tragedy, Julio retired to the foot of the staircase. He had hardly reached it, when the door of the room opened, and his master appeared.
Disfigured as Simon Turchi's countenance had been by the thirst for revenge, crime made it still more frightful. The signor could hardly have been recognized. His hair stood upright; his eyes rolled in their sockets; a hard, hoarse sound escaped his lips; blood dripped from his hands.
He ran by his servant without speaking to him, ascended the staircase, and having reached his room he threw himself panting upon a chair.
Julio, who had followed him, placed himself before him, and asked:
"Well, signor, is the deed accomplished?"
"It is; let me take breath," said Turchi, breathing heavily.