“No, no, that you are not!” cried Carlo, beside himself with pain and rage. “Confess what you want in this house—confess, or you are a dead man!”
And with a drawn dagger he rushed upon his opponent!
A frightful struggle ensued. Natalie, in her night-dress, pale as a lily, knelt upon her bed and prayed. She had folded her hands over her breast, directly over the place where the papers confided to her by Paulo, in a little silken bag, always hung suspended by a golden chain.
“Grant, O my God,” prayed she—“grant that I may keep my promise to Paulo, and that I may defend these papers with my life!”
And the two brothers were still struggling and contending; like two serpents they had coiled around each other, and held each other in their toils.
“Flee, flee, Natalie!” groaned Carlo, with a weakened voice—“flee away from here! I yet hold him, you are yet safe! Flee!”
But in this moment the maiden thought not of her own danger. She thought only of Carlo. Springing from her bed, with flashing eyes she boldly threw herself between the contending men.
“No, no,” said she, courageously, “I will not flee—I shall at least know how to die!”
A shriek resounded from Carlo’s lips, his arms relaxed and fell from his enemy, leaving his brother free.
“Ah, finally, finally!” gasped the panting Joseph. “That was an amusing carnival farce, my virtuous brother! Farewell! I am this time triumphant!”