“It would have been without me,” replied Death, “but I told thee, at the doors of this palace, that I was about to prevent a wedding.”
“How! have you killed the Count?”
“I!” exclaimed Death, with sarcasm, “God forbid! I have not killed him,—he died.”
“Ah!”
“Hush! No one knows it yet. At this moment his family believe that the poor youth is simply napping. Therefore ... be careful how you act! Elena, the Countess and the Duke are but two steps from thee. Now or never!” So saying, Death approached the sick woman’s couch.
Tito followed in his footsteps. Many of the people who were there in the room, among them the Duke of Monteclaro, knew of Tito’s prediction, that the Countess would die within three hours. They saw it almost fulfilled; the happy, beautiful woman of a few hours before, had suddenly become an almost inanimate body, shaken at intervals by violent convulsions. Thus it was that all commenced to regard our hero with superstitious awe and fanatical reverence. The Countess, for her part, not well distinguishing Tito, stretched toward him a tremulous and supplicating hand, while indicating with the other that they should be left alone.
All retired, and Tito seated himself beside the dying woman.
CHAPTER IX.
THE SOUL.
