"Benedetto," she faintly whispered, "you have killed me—but you did not know it was I, did you? Oh, sir," she added, turning to Anselmo, "leave him alone, he must escape—quick!"
Anselmo obeyed. During their desperate ride, he had been told by the poor mother what Benedetto was to her. He knew Benedetto would go to the extreme, and his heart stopped beating as he thought of the unnatural son! He had urged the horse on at a wild gallop, so as to bring Benedetto's mother to the vicarage in safety. His own safety was of secondary importance to him, when it was a question of protecting a mother from the knife of her son. He intended to alarm the house; that Benedetto would arrive there before them he had not imagined.
"Sir," muttered the baroness, faintly, "swear to me that you will let Benedetto escape. Do not pursue him, and I die peacefully."
"I swear it," said Anselmo, in a hollow voice.
"Thanks, a thousand thanks! Benedetto, embrace me and fly."
The bandit stood as if transfixed, and gazed at the dying woman, and only when Anselmo touched him by the arm and drew him to the groaning woman, exclaiming: "Do as she says, or I will kill you," did he condescend to press his forehead to her cold lips.
"Benedetto," she whispered faintly.
Her breath ceased—she was dead.
"I have the million," said Benedetto, after a pause, "come!"
Instead of answering, Anselmo tore the knife from out of the breast of the dead woman and, holding it toward the son, hissed: