"I'll bring him to the dust—to the earth. My very menials shall spurn him. Almighty, that he should dare—trickster—liar—that he should dare to practise upon me this outrageous slight. Ay, ay—ay, ay—laugh, my lord—laugh on; but by the —— ——, this shall bring you to your knees, ay, and to your grave; and you—you," thundered he, turning upon the awe-struck and terrified young lady, "you no doubt had your share in this—ay, you have—you have—yes, I know you—you—you—hollow, lying ——, quit my house—out with you—turn her out—drive her out—away with her."
As the horrible figure advanced towards her, the girl by an effort roused herself from the dreadful fascination, and turning from him, fled swiftly downstairs, and fell fainting at the parlour door.
Sir Richard still strode through his chamber with the same frantic evidences of unabated fury; and the Italian—the only remaining spectator of the hideous scene—sate calmly in a chair by the toilet, with his legs crossed, and his countenance composed into a kind of sanctimonious placidity, which, however, spite of all his efforts, betrayed at the corners of the mouth, and in the twinkle of the eye, a certain enjoyment of the spectacle, which was not altogether consistent with the perfect affection which he professed for his master.
"Ay, ay, my lord," continued the baronet, madly, "laugh on—laugh while you may; but by the —— ——, you shall gnash your teeth for this!"
"What coning, old gentleman is mi Lord Aspenly—ah! vary, vary," said the Italian, reflectively.
"You shall, my lord," continued Sir Richard, furiously. "Your disgrace shall be public—exemplary—the insult shall recoil upon, yourself—your punishment shall be memorable-public—tremendous."
"Mi Lord Aspenly and Sir Richard—both so coning," continued the Italian—"yees—yees—set one thief to catch the other."
The Neapolitan had, no doubt, bargained for the indulgence of his pleasant humour, as usual, free of cost; but he was mistaken. With the quickness of light, Sir Richard grasped a massive glass decanter, full of water, and hurled it at the head of his valet. Luckily for that gentleman's brains, it missed its object, and, alighting upon a huge mirror, it dashed it to fragments with a stunning crash. In the extremity of his fury, Sir Richard grasped a heavy metal inkstand, and just as the valet escaped through the private door of his room, hurled it, too, at his head. Two such escapes were quite enough for Signor Parucci on one evening; and not wishing to tempt his luck further, he ran nimbly down the stairs, leaped into his own room, and bolted and double-locked the door; and thence, as the night wore on, he still heard Sir Richard pacing up and down his chamber, and storming and raving in dreadful rivalry with the thunder and hurricane without.
CHAPTER XXVIII.