THE PLACE OF SIMON TURCHI AND WHAT OCCURED THERE

Not far from the bridge De la Vigne, Simon Turchi had a magnificent dwelling, where the offices of the commercial house of Buonvisi were situated; but he possessed also, at the extremity of the city, pleasure-grounds, where in fine weather he was accustomed to invite his friends and acquaintances to festivals, banquets, and concerts.  His domains were near the church of Saint George, surrounded by grounds belonging to the hospital.

Exteriorly it appeared to be only a wall of enclosure, shaded by lofty trees, and without openings.  Against the horizon were seen two glittering weathercocks surmounting two small towers arising in the midst of foliage.  Within there was, however, a vast garden diversified with winding paths, flowery parterres, hillocks, and grottos.  Here and there, scattered among the thickets of verdure, appeared marble statues representing principally the gods of pagan mythology.  In the centre of the garden was a pond, in which seemed to float a crowd of monstrous animals, such as dragons, basilisks, lizards, and salamanders.  It was a fountain; and when the robinets were opened these monsters spouted the water in every direction from their eyes and mouths.

But at the bottom of the garden and at some distance from the wall of enclosure was an antique pavilion of gray-stone, the walls of which were nearly covered with ivy, and which, in spite of their dark hue, presented a very picturesque appearance.

With the exception of the small and narrow windows, which were protected by iron bars, and the staircase of slate which gave admittance, this heavy building presented nothing remarkable, unless it were two round turrets, which rose above the surrounding roofs and even above the gigantic trees in its vicinity.

The garden had been evidently long neglected, for all the walks were covered with weeds, and in the flower-beds were the half decayed props which had supported the plants of the previous autumn.  The statues were spotted by the dust and rain; a fine moss covered the monsters of the fountains, and the little water remaining in the pond was stagnant.

These evidences of the absence of man, the sombre hue of the edifice, the shrubs growing untrimmed, but, above all, the complete silence, gave a mournful air of abandonment to the place, and in this solitude the soul was necessarily filled with painful reflections.

It was already late in the afternoon; the sun was about to sink below the horizon, its slanting rays illumined only the weathercocks on the top of the towers.  Within the thickets and at the entrance of the grottos, night already reigned.  Not the slightest sound was heard in this place.  The noise of the people at work in the city resounded in the air, the chiming of the church-bells was wafted from the distance over this solitary dwelling; but as no sound arose from the habitation itself, the distant hum from an active multitude rendered the silence of the spot all the more striking.

Only at intervals a dull sound like the grating noise of a file seemed to issue from the old edifice; but it was so indistinct and so often interrupted that it was not sufficient to destroy the solitude and silence of the place.

Suddenly two heavy strokes, as if from a hammer, resounded through the garden.  Some one had knocked at the exterior door for admittance.

A few moments afterwards a man appeared on the staircase of the pavilion, and descended into the garden.

He was tall and slender; his hair and beard were red, and a red moustache covered his upper lip.  His cheeks, though sunken and emaciated, were very red.  His eyes were wild in their expression.  His arms and legs were of extraordinary length; his movements were heavy and slow, as though his limbs had been dislocated and his muscles without strength.

His dress denoted him to be a menial:  he wore a vest of black leather, a red doublet and breeches of the same color, without embroidery or ornament.

At this moment his sleeves were rolled up, and his thin arms were bare to the elbows.  In his hand he held a file, and apparently he had been interrupted in some urgent work by the knock at the door.  Having reached the outer door, he drew a key from his doublet, and asked in Italian: 

“Who knocks?”

“Open the door, Julio; it is your companion Bernardo,” was the reply in the same tongue.

“Of course, on the way you stopped at the Camel, and drank some pots of Hamburg beer?  Did you bring me as much as a pint?” asked the man with the red beard.  “Nothing? have you nothing?  I have worked until I am exhausted; I am dying of hunger, and no one thinks of me.  Let me see the spring.”

Saying these words, he took from his companion’s hands a bent steel spring and examined it attentively, closing and opening it as if to judge of its form and power of resistance.

Bernardo was a deformed man of low stature; the projection on his back might be styled a hump-it was so prominent.  His physiognomy denoted pusillanimity; but there was, at the same time, a malicious sparkle in his eye, and it was with a mocking smile that he contemplated the man with the red beard.

The latter said to him in a commanding tone:  “The spring appears to be good.  Go bring me a pint of Rhenish wine from the Saint George.”

“You know well that our master has forbidden it.  Let me go; the signor ordered me to return immediately to the factory.”

“Get me the wine, or I will break this spring in a thousand pieces over your hump.”

“Always threatening!” muttered Bernardo.  “You know I am not wanting in good-will.  I will go for the wine; give me the money.”

“Money?  I have not a farthing in my pocket.  Lend me the price of this pint.”

“My purse is empty, Julio; but yours?  Our master gave you ever so many shillings yesterday.  You told me so yourself.”

“Bah! the dice made way with the whole of it.”

“Hardened gambler!” said Bernardo, with a sigh.  “You would risk your soul at the gaming-table if any one held out to you a gold coin.”

“Very likely!” replied Julio, in an indifferent tone; “my soul is hardly worth more.”

“What impious words!  We are alone now, but there is One above who hears what we say.  He will punish you, Julio.”

The red-haired man shrugged his shoulders.

“Continue your dissolute habits,” resumed Bernardo; “lose your money in gambling, drown your senses in intoxication:  at the end of this path there is a gallows, and behind it the devil, to whom all such souls are welcome.  Adieu! reflect upon my words, and remember that the justice of God will one day demand an account of your life.  Adieu!”

Julio sprang towards the small door, locked it, and put the key in his pocket.

“Cease this trifling,” said the other, evidently ill at ease.

“Open the door, Julio, or I will complain of you to our master.”

“What do I care for our master?” said the man, laughing.

“You say, Bernardo, that I shall end my days on the gallows.  No, no; the proverb says, that he who draws the sword shall perish by the sword.  I have pierced so many with my dagger, that my turn must come to fall by the dagger.  Last night, Bernardo, I had rare sport.  I knocked down eight, wounded one in the arm, and as to three or four others whom I left extended on the ground, my dagger knows better than I what mischief was done them.  Come in with me, and I will tell you all about it.”

“No, I have not time.”

“You must take the time.  You shall not leave here until you have heard my adventures of last night.”

“It is always the same story over again.  If I believed you, I would suppose that the cemeteries were too small to contain the bodies of all whom you have slain.  Open the door, Julio, and let me go, I beg you.”

The other took his hand, and dragging him by force into the house, said:  “I am here alone all day, with no one to whom I can speak one word; it is enough to paralyze my tongue.  You shall listen to my adventures whether you wish it or not.  Judge, Bernardo, by the recital of my great deeds what an honor it is to you to be the comrade of so intrepid a man.  Be not ill-humored; you know it is useless to resist me.  Don’t laugh; were I to try it, I could toss you about like a ball; but you are my friend, and besides, you are too weak to contend with me.  Therefore, fear nothing.”

They reached the house and entered a kind of parlor, where Julio threw upon the table the spring he held in his hand, and seating himself, he said to his companion: 

“Take a chair, Bernardo.  You are about to hear some strange adventures.  Do you know the ruffian Bufferio?  He is a jolly fellow, who cares as little for the life of a man as for that of a fly.  There is not a man in the parish of Saint Andrew who does not tremble at the sight of him.  In a by-street there is a tavern in a large cellar, where one can hear the rattling of dice all night long, and they play for piles of gold-where it comes from, the devil only knows.  Late yesterday evening I was passing through this street, when the noise of the dice fell upon my ear.  You must know, Bernardo, that this sound is as enchanting music attracting me; it overpowers my will.  I descended into the tavern and called for a glass of beer.  I seated myself among the players, and challenged any of them to play against me.  I won and lost; but at last good luck was on my side, and my pockets were so full that they could hardly bear the weight of the florins.  To console the losers, I ordered the hostess to bring a pint of wine to each of them; but in spite of my generosity the villains looked at me angrily, and seemed to excite each other to take revenge upon me.  They strove to pick a quarrel.  They were like a band of thieves and assassins; but the rascals saw with whom they had to deal.  My defiant look, my bold words, my intrepid countenance, kept them at a respectful distance from me.  Suddenly the dreaded Bufferio entered the cellar.  He had no sooner learned from his comrades how fortune had favored me than he challenged me to play with him.  It was just what I wanted.  I don’t know how it happened, but I lost every game.  Each time we doubled the stakes; a cold sweat bathed my brow as I saw florin after florin quietly put in the pocket of my adversary, until I had only one farthing left.  This time fortune favored me; but Bufferio insisted that the dice had not been fairly thrown, and he swept the table of all the money staked.  I sprang to my feet and called him a cheat.  He instantly dealt me a heavy blow.  Furious and thirsting for vengeance, I drew my dagger.  Immediately twenty daggers glittered above my head.  Perhaps, Bernardo, you think that I trembled?  You do not know me; when I am thus in the midst of danger, an entire army could not terrify me; for in whatever other qualities I may be deficient, I do not lack courage and intrepidity.  When I saw the villains about to rush upon me, I darted forward like a lion, and I cut about on every side so furiously with my dagger, that all, even to the gigantic Bufferio, fled from the cellar.  I pursued them into the street; there the combat recommenced; but my adversaries fared badly.  In a few moments Bufferio lay dead upon the ground between two of his comrades; the others, being badly wounded, had taken flight.  I stood alone upon the field of battle, a triumphant conqueror!  I remained in the same spot for a quarter of an hour, to see if any other enemies would present themselves, but the wretches had had enough for one night.”

Bernardo listened to this recital with an incredulous smile.  When it was concluded, he silently shook his head.

“Well! what have you to say of this adventure?” asked Julio.  “Might it not be narrated in the chronicles as an heroic adventure?”

“Certainly; in your place many others would have died of fright.  But this morning I saw this Bufferio, whom you declare to be dead, walking alive in the public square.”

“Impossible; you are mistaken.”

“Perhaps so; but I know the ruffian well, for I have twice seen him in the pillory.”

“If he is not dead, he will certainly not be able to make his appearance in the streets for six months to come.”

“Of course, you took your money from Bufferio?”

“How could I?”

“Since he lay lifeless at your feet, why did you not recover the money he had stolen from you?”

The red-haired man was at a loss for an answer; but after awhile he stammered out:  “You are right.  In the hurry of the struggle I did not think of it, and then I had not the time:  the watchmen ran on hearing the noise of the affray, and you may imagine that I did not care to fall into the hands of the bailiff.”

“I do not understand you; it seems to me you mentioned having remained a quarter of an hour upon the spot,” said Bernardo, with a slight smile.  “I suppose, Julio, there was much blood shed.”

“It flowed in torrents.”

Bernardo eyed his companion from head to foot in great surprise.

“I would like to ask you something, but you might not understand the joke, and you would be angry with me,” he said.

“Say candidly what you think,” replied his companion.

“I am extremely surprised, Julio, that there is not the smallest drop of blood, not the least spot, upon your clothes.  With your permission, I will say you dreamed all that?”

Julio sprang from his seat, gnashed his teeth, and looked at his companion as if ready to devour him.

“What! you dare to laugh at me?  Are you then tired of life?  Fool! were I only to lay my hand upon you, you would be crushed to atoms.”

Bernardo arose also, and said, in a tone half ironical and half supplicating:  “Pardon me, Julio; I believe all you told me, and I never doubted your marvellous courage.  If sometimes I laugh at serious things, do not be offended; this kind of joking is usual with men.”

“If you were not so feeble and powerless a being, I would have already laid you at my feet,” said Julio; “as it is, I long to plunge my dagger in your breast.”

“Leave it in its scabbard, Julio, and I will go to buy you a stoop of Hamburg beer.”

“Ah, hypocrite!” exclaimed Julio, “then you have money.  I will renew my friendship for you, if you will do me a favor.  I am in absolute want of money; lend me a few shillings, and the first one who insults you, I promise you, shall be a dead man.”

“But, Julio, were I to give them to you, you would gamble with them at once.”

“No, you are wrong this time; I would pay for some things our master ordered me to buy yesterday.”

Bernardo drew a small purse from his doublet, and handed to his companion its scanty contents.

“Here is all I possess,” he said.  “I fear they will go like the others.”

Julio thrust the shillings into his pocket, and muttered: 

“I do not deny that I may go this evening to the parish of Saint Andrew, to see if any one would dare play against me.”

“Julio, Julio, I pity you!” said Bernardo, sadly.  “I do not wish to lecture you; but you have an unfortunate and aged mother who requires your aid.  You are always talking of sending her assistance, and for six months past every farthing has been lost at play.  Perhaps in the meantime your mother has suffered for want of food.”

This reproach seemed to affect Julio deeply.  He looked down abashed, and then said, dejectedly:  “Bernardo, never speak to me again of my mother.  You touch the only sensitive spot in my heart.  And yet you are right; I am a monster!  Oh! this miserable play!  I will do better in future.  Go away now, and let me continue my work.”

“What are you making?” asked Bernardo.  “This is the third spring you have ordered, and each time from a different locksmith.”

“It is a secret known only to my master and myself.”

“A secret?” said Bernardo.  “Springs, a secret!  What can it mean?”

“Come with me, and I will show you.  The signor may be angry if he chooses, I don’t care.  But, Bernardo, you must be as silent as one deaf and dumb.”

He conducted his companion to a room, and throwing open the door showed him a large arm-chair, which in form was like the other chairs around, excepting that from each arm extended two bent springs.

“This is what I have worked at, without stopping, for four days.  I wish the bewitched chair to the devil!  I have already exhausted myself; but the new spring is good, and in a few minutes I will have finished.”

Bernardo examined attentively the unfinished chair, and looked frightened.

“Heavens!” he exclaimed, “a chair for a trap!  Do you entrap men here?”

Julio nodded his head affirmatively.

Pale from anxiety, Bernardo muttered:  “May God preserve me!  What crime is in contemplation?  Does our master know anything of this terrible piece of furniture?”

“Was it not from him that you received the order to bring me the springs?”

The humpbacked man made the sign of the cross, and muttered a few indistinct words.

Suddenly Julio laughed immoderately, and slapping him on the shoulder exclaimed:  “Foolish boy! he already sees a victim in this chair, and the blood flowing as freely as in some old woman’s story.  Be at ease, Bernardo; this is done only to satisfy a caprice of our master.  He intends to clean the garden and repair the fountain.  He will place this arm-chair in an arbor near the fountain; the guest who seats himself in it will be caught, and the salamanders may throw the water upon him as long as they please.  It is a mania of our master.”

“What a coward I am!” said Bernardo, laughing at his own fears.  “Open the door now, Julio; I should have been at the factory long ago.”

They both left the house talking together, and they turned their steps towards the exterior door.

The red-haired man soon returned alone.  He removed the spring from the parlor-table, and took it with him to the room where he had terrified his companion by the revelation of his master’s secret.  He seated himself on the ground near the chair, and taking some tools he began to arrange the spring, and to try if it would produce the effect intended.  Whilst thus occupied he laughed aloud, and said: 

“The stupid humpback!  One could make him believe that cats laid eggs!  He believed all I told him of Bufferio and his comrades as though they were gospel truths.  The coward!  To empty his pocket of its last farthing, it is only necessary to frighten him!  I have two shillings.  Night is coming on, and it is growing dark.  Presently I will go to the tavern of the ’Silver Dice.’  I will play at first with a few farthings, then for white pieces, at last for florins and even crowns!  This time I will stop playing as soon as my pocket is full of money.  Then at least I will send something to my poor mother.  In what condition is she now?  Perhaps she no longer lives on earth; that would be better for her.  Poor and blind, and her only dependence a son who must conceal his true name in order to escape the gallows; a gambler, drunkard-in a word, a real jail-bird!  Yes, if fortune favors me, I will send her something.  The signor promised me to have it conveyed to Lucca.  Ah! the spring is fixed.  Let me see if the machine does its duty.”

He rose, placed his hand on the arm of the chair as if about to take his seat in it; suddenly he sprang aside, exclaiming:  “Fool that you are, you were about to do a fine thing!  I would have been caught by my own trap; and if the signor had forgotten to come this evening, I would have remained clasped in that traitorous chair.  But don’t I hear some one coming?  A key grating in the lock of the garden gate?  Yes, it is the Signor Turchi.”

Seating himself on the ground before the arm-chair, with his back turned to the door, Julio began to work with apparent eagerness; and in order to assume a greater air of indifference, he sang snatches of a well-known song.

The door opened, and Signor Turchi stood upon the threshold.  He remained for an instant motionless, contemplating in silence his servant, who continued his song as though unconscious of the presence of his master.

Simon slowly approached him and laid his hand upon his shoulder; but before he could say a word, Julio drew his dagger from its scabbard, and springing to his feet, made a motion as if to stab his master.

“O cielo, e voi signor? Is it you, signor?” cried Julio.  “You slip through the garden like a thief.  It is almost dark; an accident might have happened.”

“Stop your foolish jesting, Julio.  A man does not kill another without finding out with whom he is dealing.”

“Do you think so, signor?  Why, if five or six men were to take me by surprise, not one would be left alive.”

“You speak as if the life of a man were of no more value than that of a bird.”

“Less, signor; it is not worth a farthing.”

“We will have proof of this,” said Simon, in a peculiar tone, as he turned towards the door.  “For years I have heard you boasting; this evening I will discover what you are-a brave man or a coward.”

Julio drew himself to his full height, put his arms akimbo, and was about to speak, but his master prevented him.

“No useless words!” said Simon, imperiously, “Light the lamp, and come to my bed-room.”

He left the room without making any inquiry in regard to the chair, and ascended a winding staircase.  Opening the door of a large room, he threw himself upon a chair, and rubbed his brow with his hands like a man tormented by painful thoughts.

After awhile his hands fell upon his knees, and his eyes wandering in feverish agitation through the dim twilight, he muttered: 

“At last it is decided! the murder of a friend!  He my friend?  He is my mortal enemy!  Has he not deprived me of Mary’s love?  Has he not destroyed all my hopes?  Has he not devoted me to eternal infamy?  His uncle has consented; he will become his partner, the proprietor of an immense fortune, the husband of Mary-of Mary, who was destined by her father to be my wife!  He will be powerful, rich, and happy; he will be surrounded by every luxury; he will astonish the world by the magnificence of his style of living, and from the pinnacle of his grandeur he will cast an eye of lawful pride upon Turchi dishonored and ruined!  Miserable dog that I am!  Deodati will discover that I owe him ten thousand crowns.  He will appeal to the courts of justice, and I will be condemned as a rogue; they will discover that I have spent more than I possessed.  Outraged, despised, mocked, shall I fall forever into the abyss of misery and infamy?  No, no; let him die!  His death alone can save me.  If he perishes as I have planned, I no longer owe him the ten thousand crowns; Mary becomes my wife, and I am master of her dowry.  In that case I am still the powerful, honored chief of the house of Buonvisi!  But time presses; to-morrow it may be too late!  I hear Julio coming.  Upon him rests all my hope.”

The servant entered and placed a lighted candle upon the table.

“Now, signor,” he said, “to what trial do you wish to subject my courage?  However difficult it may be, it will not be beyond my strength.”

“Close the blinds; lower the windows,” said Turchi; “sit down and listen attentively to my words.  I am about to talk to you of an important affair.”

The red-haired man regarded his master with a malicious and incredulous smile, but he took the seat indicated to him without a word of comment.

“Julio,” said Simon, “I am dejected and undecided.  There is a man who pretends to be my friend, but who has secretly been my bitter enemy.  He has always artfully calumniated and deceived me, and injured me in my fortune and honor; he has pushed his machinations to such a degree that I will soon be condemned to eternal infamy and misery, unless, by a bold stroke of vengeance, I break through the snares he has laid for my destruction.  Be calm, Julio; it does you honor to be inflamed with anger against the enemies of your master; but listen.  I discovered, three days ago, that it was this treacherous friend who paid the assassins to inflict the wound of which I still bear the scar on my face.  Thus, he first shed my blood and attempted my life; now he plans my ruin and dishonor.  Julio, what would you do in my place?”

“What would I do?  Ask my dagger, signor; if it could speak, it would tell you of wonderful exploits.”

“Then you would not hesitate to undertake a difficult task?”

“Hesitate! you insult me, signor.  I would not hesitate were twenty swords brandished over my head.”

“Understand, Julio, that had I doubted your intrepidity, I would not have spoken to you of such grave affairs.  I give you the highest proof of confidence by intrusting my vengeance to your hands.  I will tell you who is my enemy, and where you can strike him secretly.  Kill him, and you shall be liberally recompensed.”

This mission appeared unpalatable to Julio.

“Yes,” he stammered; “but that is not my way of acting.  I will pick a quarrel with your enemy, and if he dares to raise a finger against me, he is a dead man.”

“Impossible; he is of noble birth.”

“And if I insulted him, his valets would fall upon me and beat me.”

“That is true.  There is but one way, Julio; I will tell you where you can stab him at night without the least danger.”

“I? shall I treacherously kill your enemy?  This gentleman has never injured me.  Since how long has it been the custom for valets to avenge the grievances of their masters?  It is your own affair, signor.”

“You value the life of a man as little as a farthing, you said,” replied Simon Turchi, with bitter irony; “and now you allege the most puerile reasons as excuses.  You are a coward, Julio.”

“I am not; but I do not choose to lie in wait and stab a man in the dark.”

“That is a feint, a subterfuge, to conceal your cowardice.”

“Since it is so simple and easy, why do you not deal the blow yourself, signor?”

The scar on Simon Turchi’s face became of a livid white; his whole frame trembled with rage; but by a strong effort he controlled his emotion, and after a few moments he said, with a contemptuous smile upon his lips: 

“Four years ago I took you into my service through pity; I have paid you well, excused all your faults, your intoxication, your passion for gambling; I have not dismissed you, although you have deserved it a hundred times; and now, when for the first time you can be useful to me, you have not the courage.  I wished to try you.  What I said was only a jest.  To-morrow, Julio, you will leave my service.  You are a liar and a coward.”

“Do not condemn me so severely, signor,” said the servant, in a supplicating tone of voice.  “I am willing to risk my life a thousand times for you; but to lie in wait for an unknown man and kill him deliberately-this is an infamous crime of which I am not capable.”

“Hypocrite!” exclaimed Simon Turchi; “you speak as though I were ignorant of your past history.  If a price is set upon your head in the city of Lucca, if at this moment you are under sentence of death, is it not because you assassinated or helped to assassinate the Judge Voltai?”

These words struck Julio with terror.  He replied, humbly: 

“Signor, I have already told you that in this affair I was more unfortunate than guilty.  I was upon the spot where the murder was committed, and I was arrested with those who gave the fatal blow.  Believe me, I knew nothing of their designs.  I do not deny that in a contest or quarrel I spare no one; but up to this moment my dagger has never shed blood without provocation.”

Simon fixed his eyes upon his servant, and said in a menacing tone:  “Suppose, in order to avenge myself for thy base ingratitude, I should make known to the superintendent of Lucca who is the man I have in my service?  Suppose I were to tell him that the real name of Julio Julii is Pietro Mostajo?  Who would be bound hand and foot and sent in the hold of a ship of war to expiate his crimes upon a scaffold in Italy?”

Julio turned pale and trembled.  He moved restlessly upon his chair, and complained in a low voice of the false accusations and injustice of men; but his master eyed all his movements in a scornful manner, until at last the servant, disconcerted, exclaimed impulsively: 

“Tell me what to do; I am ready!”

“Will you accomplish my orders with unwavering will and without hesitation?”

“I must do so, since you compel me to it!  But fear nothing; my decision is made.”

“And suppose that Geronimo Deodati were my enemy?”

“Geronimo Deodati!” exclaimed Julio, in indescribable terror.  “Geronimo, your intimate friend?  That noble and generous cavalier who loves you as a brother?  He is as gentle as a girl!”

“He is a false friend, a traitor.”

“Geronimo gave you the wound on your face? He would betray you and seek your ruin?  That is false, false!  It is impossible!”

“He is my mortal enemy.  You shall kill him, I say!” exclaimed Simon Turchi, in a menacing voice.

“Must I kill the Signor Geronimo?  Ah! to what horrible crime would you urge me?” said Julio, in a plaintive tone.

Simon seized his servant by the arm, shook him violently, and whispered hoarsely in his ear:  “Pietro Mostajo, remember the superintendent of Lucca!”

Julio, as if stupefied, said not a word.

Simon arose and walked towards the door, saying:  “It is well; I will go and deliver you up to justice.”

The terrified servant sprang after him, retained him, and said, supplicatingly:  “I submit myself to your will, and accept the fate I cannot escape.  I have never before committed a murder; you take his blood upon yourself, do you not, signor?  Tell me when I must accomplish this horrible crime.”

“This very day, Julio.”

“To-day?-so soon?”

“To-morrow would be too late.”

“Well, command; the sooner the better.”

“To-day is the eve of May.  Geronimo intends to serenade Miss Van de Werve.  Only two lute-players will attend him.  He invited me to accompany him.  I will go to bed at the factory under pretence of indisposition; all the servants will know that I have not left my dwelling.  Do you put on the old Spanish cape which has been laid aside for five years; no one will then recognize you.  You must be in Hoboken Street, near the Dominican Convent, before eleven o’clock.  There is at that spot a well which Geronimo must pass both in going and returning.  Hide behind the well until Geronimo approaches, then rush upon him and deal him a fatal blow; strike several times.  The lute-players are cowards, and they will run away.  Take from the dead body of Geronimo a pocket-book which you will find in a pocket on the left side of his doublet; there is in this pocket-book a writing which he took from me by a cheat.  Leave the spot after having accomplished this, and return by the darkest streets; you will not be discovered.  Above all, do not forget the pocket-book.”

Julio’s countenance expressed stupefaction and terror.  During the development of the frightful plot he kept his eyes fixed on his master’s lips, and he continued to stare at him without moving.

“Well,” asked his master, “is not the project cunningly devised?”

“It is astonishing, astonishing!” stammered the servant, lowering his eyes.

“You are ready, I suppose, to strike the blow?  But why do you hesitate?  Are you afraid?”

“No, no; but let me reflect a moment,” said Julio.

After a few minutes of silence, he looked at his master, and said: 

“With your permission, signor, I will say that the plan, as you have arranged it, appears to me to be fraught with danger to yourself.  Suppose that Geronimo should perceive me too soon and defend himself; that by chance the lute-players should be men of courage; that I should be wounded or made prisoner:  any of these events might occur.  I would certainly be broken on the wheel or burned alive.  That, however, would be of little consequence, if by my death I could be useful to you.  But I am your servant, and known as such by all your acquaintances; and as I could have no motive of hatred or vengeance against a cavalier who has never spoken an unkind word to me, you would be at once suspected of having ordered the murder.”

“And you, I suppose, would betray me?” said Turchi, with bitter irony.

“Betray you, signor? that would not save myself; but under torture my tongue might against my will pronounce your name.”

Simon strode up and down the room, muttering between his teeth with suppressed rage.  His servant glanced at him stealthily, with an almost imperceptible smile of joy and triumph.

At last Simon stood still in the middle of the room; the scar on his cheek was of a fiery red, and his eyes rolled around restlessly.

“Shall I then be forever ruined?  Nothing is left me in the world but misery and infamy!  Julio, is the arm-chair progressing?"

“The arm-chair!  Then the arm-chair was destined as a snare for Geronimo?” said the servant, stupefied.  “What do you mean?”

“No, no, the chair would come too late!” said Simon Turchi, in an agitated voice.  “Talk no more about it; this evening you must lie in wait for Geronimo and kill him.  It is decided; it must be done!”

“I know a means to accomplish your purpose without danger either to you or me, signor,” said the servant.

“Ah, if what you say be true!  Tell me this means of safety!”

“There lives in the parish of Saint Andrew a man of giant stature and strength; he is named Bufferio; he will do anything for money; whether it be to beat, wound, or kill a man, it is all the same to him.  He fulfils his mission to the satisfaction of his employers, and he never betrays a secret.  He has five or six intrepid companions engaged in the same trade as himself; they may be relied upon.  Give me money to pay this ruffian, and you need have no anxiety; Bufferio will think that I am acting from personal vengeance; besides, he does not know me.  Thus neither of us will be suspected nor accused should the affair prove unsuccessful.”

Simon seemed surprised by Julio’s words, and he remained a few moments in deep thought.  By degrees a smile parted his lips; it was evident that the proposed plan met his approval.  He opened his purse and put four gold pieces in Julio’s hand.

“Is that sufficient?” he asked.

“You jest, signor,” replied the servant.  “Four gold pieces for the life of a nobleman!”

Simon handed him four more.

“Will that do?” he said.

“It is not enough yet.”

“How much will be required?”

“I do not know.  Perhaps twenty crowns.”

“Twenty?  I have only fifteen about me, with some small change.”

“Give me all, signor.  If I had not enough I should be obliged to return without concluding the affair.”

Simon heaved a deep sigh and emptied the contents of his purse into Julio’s hand.

“You will bring me back what is left, will you not?”

“Certainly; but I do not think much will remain.”

“Come, Julio, I am in a hurry to return to the factory.  Fulfil your mission skilfully, and I will recompense you largely.  But a thought strikes me.  The pocket-book must not fall into the hands of Bufferio.”

“I had forgotten that,” said Julio, embarrassed.

“Ah!  I have it!” said Simon Turchi, after a moment’s reflection, “A little before ten o’clock you must go to the house of Geronimo and tell him I am ill with fever, and that I have sent you in my place to accompany him armed.  Follow him closely, and when he falls, take the pocket-book from him.  Tell Bufferio that it is an unimportant document.”

Julio made a movement of displeasure on receiving this new order.  He had rejoiced in the idea of not being obliged to witness this wicked attack, and now he was commanded to take part in it.  For fear of being subjected to something worse, he did not venture to make any remark.

“Go now,” said Simon Turchi, “and get the old Spanish cape.  It may serve to disguise you from Bufferio.  Gird on a sword also, that Geronimo may think you are armed for the purpose of defending him in case of attack.”

The servant took the lamp from the table and prepared to obey the order.

“What are you doing?” said his master.  “Are you going to leave me in the dark?  Are you afraid to go without a light?”

“I might knock my head against the beams, for I have forgotten where the cape was put.”

“You had it in your hands only three days ago.  You are afraid in the dark, Julio.  Take the lamp.”

The servant soon returned.  He had the Spanish cape around his shoulders.  It was a wide cloak, in which the whole body might be wrapped; and when the hood was drawn down it entirely concealed the face.

The master and servant descended the staircase in silence and approached the little garden-gate.  There Julio put the lamp upon the ground and extinguished it.

The lock grated as the key turned; the door was opened and closed, and Simon Turchi and his servant disappeared in the dark and solitary street.