"I want you to say if you know me," answered Barbesieur, dominating the madman with the calm, powerful glance of reason.
Strozzi shook his head, murmuring, "No, sir, no. I do not know you."
"But I know YOU, Strozzi, my good fellow. You are my beloved brother-in-law, the husband of my sister Laura, who forsook you so shamefully, because she did not love you."
The shaft had pierced. A gleam of returning reason shot athwart
Strozzi's face, and a faint color rose to his cheek.
"Not love me!" echoed he, tearfully; "whom, then, does she love?"
Barbesieur laid the weight of his great hands upon Strozzi's shoulders, and looked steadfastly in his eyes. Raising his voice to the utmost, he shouted: "I will tell you whom she loves, and mark me well, Strozzi. She loves Prince Eugene of Savoy!"
"Eugene of Savoy!" shrieked the wretched creature. "Eugene of Savoy!
Ah, yes, I remember. I hate him, and he must die!"
"Ay, that's it!" cried Barbesieur, cheerily, "that's it. He must die; and when he is dead, Laura will love the Marquis de Strozzi."
"You think so?" asked Strozzi, laying his tremulous hand upon
Barbesieur's, great firm arm.
"I know it. The very moment Prince Eugene dies, Laura's heart is yours."