“Ah!” said Matilda, thoughtfully, “conduct him here.”
Ferdinand departed to obey her; footsteps were heard in the passage, and immediately afterwards Zastrozzi stood before Matilda.
“Matilda!” exclaimed he, “why do I see you here? What accident has happened which confines you to this chamber?”
“Ah!” replied Matilda, in an undervoice, “look in that bed—behold Verezzi! emaciated and insensible—in a quarter of an hour, perhaps, all animation will be fled—fled for ever!” continued she, as a deeper expression of despair shaded her beautiful features.
Zastrozzi advanced to the foot of the bed—Verezzi lay, as if dead, before his eyes; for the ashy hue of his lips, and his sunken inexpressive eye, almost declared that his spirit was fled.
Zastrozzi gazed upon him with an indefinable expression of insatiated vengeance—indefinable to Matilda, as she gazed upon the expressive countenance of her coadjutor in crime.
“Matilda! I want you: come to the lower saloon; I have something to speak to you of,” said Zastrozzi.
“Oh! if it concerned my soul’s eternal happiness, I could not now attend,” exclaimed Matilda, energetically; “in less than a quarter of an hour, perhaps, all I hold dear on earth will be dead; with him, every hope, every wish, every tie which binds me to earth. Oh!” exclaimed she, her voice assuming a tone of extreme horror, “see how pale he looks!”
Zastrozzi bade Matilda farewell, and went away.
The physician yet continued watching in silence the countenance of Verezzi: it still retained its unchanging expression of fixed despair.