I found myself at home, and suddenly I remembered the old steward, whom I had left in charge of my house. His name was Fabio; it was from him that I got the name when I presented myself as a serving-man to old Orso. If anything had taken place in the house he must know it; and she, Claudia, said the whole town knew it.
'Fabio!'
'My master!'
He came into my room, and I looked at him steadily.
'Fabio, have you well looked after all I left in your hands when I went to Rome?'
'Your rents are paid, your harvests taken in, the olives all gathered.'
'I left in your charge something more precious than cornfields and vineyards.'
'My lord!'
'I made you guardian of my honour. What of that?'
He hesitated, and his voice as he answered trembled.
'Your honour is—intact.'
I took him by the shoulders.
'Fabio, what is it? I beseech you by your master, my father, to tell me.'
I knew he loved my father's memory with more than human love. He looked up to heaven and clasped his hands; he could hardly speak.
'By my dear master, your father, nothing—nothing!'
'Fabio, you are lying.' I pressed his wrists which I was holding clenched in my hands.
He sank down on his knees.
'Oh, master, have mercy on me!' He buried his face in his hands. 'I cannot tell you.'
'Speak, man, speak!'
At last, with laments and groans, he uttered the words,—
'She has—oh God, she has betrayed you!'
'Oh!' I staggered back.
'Forgive me!'
'Why did you not tell me before?'
'Ah, how could I? You loved her as I have never seen man love woman.'
'Did you not think of my honour?'
'I thought of your happiness. It is better to have happiness without honour, than honour without happiness.'
'For you,' I groaned, 'but not for me.'
'You are of the same flesh and blood, and you suffer as we do. I could not destroy your happiness.'
'Oh, Giulia! Giulia!' Then, after a while, I asked again, 'But are you sure?'
'Alas, there is no doubt!'
'I cannot believe it! Oh God, help me! You don't know how I loved her! She could not! Let me see it with my own eyes, Fabio.'
We both stood silent; then a horrible thought struck me.
'Do you know—when they meet?' I whispered.
He groaned. I asked again.
'God help me!'
'You know? I command you to tell me.'
'They did not know you were coming back till after to-morrow.'
'He is coming?'
'To-day.'
'Oh!' I seized him by the hand. 'Take me, and let me see them.'
'What will you do?' he asked, horror-stricken.
'Never mind, take me!'
Trembling, he led me through ante-rooms and passages, till he brought me to a staircase. We mounted the steps and came to a little door. He opened it very quietly, and we found ourselves behind the arras of Giulia's chamber. I had forgotten the existence of door and steps, and she knew nothing of them. There was an opening in the tapestry to give exit.
No one was in the room. We waited, holding our breath. At last Giulia entered. She walked to the window and looked out, and went back to the door. She sat down, but sprang up restlessly, and again looked out of window. Whom was she expecting?
She walked up and down the room, and her face was full of anxiety. I watched intently. At last a light knock was heard; she opened the door and a man came in. A small, slight, thin man, with a quantity of corn-coloured hair falling over his shoulders, and a pale, fair skin. He had blue eyes, and a little golden moustache. He looked hardly twenty, but I knew he was older.
He sprang forward, seizing her in his arms, and he pressed her to his heart, but she pushed him back.
'Oh, Giorgio, you must go,' she cried. 'He has come back.'
'Your husband?'
'I hoped you would not come. Go quickly. If he found you he would kill us both.'
'Tell me you love me, Giulia.'
'Oh yes, I love you with all my heart and soul.'
For a moment they stood still in one another's arms, then she tore herself away.
'But go, for God's sake!'
'I go, my love. Good-bye!'
'Good-bye, beloved!'
He took her in his arms again, and she placed hers around his neck. They kissed one another passionately on the lips; she kissed him as she had never kissed me.
'Oh!' I gave a cry of rage, and leaped out of my concealment. In a bound I had reached him. They hardly knew I was there; and I had plunged my dagger in his neck. Giulia gave a piercing shriek as he fell with a groan. The blood spattered over my hand. Then I looked at her. She ran from me with terror-stricken face, her eyes starting from her head. I rushed to her and she shrieked again, but Fabio caught hold of my arm.
'Not her, not her too!'
I wrenched my hand away from him, and then—then as I saw her pallid face and the look of deathly terror—I stopped. I could not kill her.
'Lock that door,' I said to Fabio, pointing to the one from which we had come. Then, looking at her, I screamed,—
'Harlot!'
I called to Fabio, and we left the room. I locked the door, and she remained shut in with her lover....
I called my servants and bade them follow me, and went out. I walked proudly, surrounded by my retainers, and I came to the house of Bartolomeo Moratini. He had just finished dinner, and was sitting with his sons. They rose as they saw me.
'Ah, Filippo, you have returned.' Then, seeing my pale face, they cried, 'But what is it? What has happened?'
And Bartolomeo broke in.
'What is that on your hand, Filippo?'
I stretched it out, so that he might see.
'That—that is the blood of your daughter's lover.'
'Oh!'
'I found them together, and I killed the adulterer.'
Bartolomeo kept silence a moment, then he said,—
'You have done well, Filippo.' He turned to his sons. 'Scipione, give me my sword.'
He girded it on, and then he spoke to me.
'Sir,' he said, 'I beg you to wait here till I come.'
I bowed.
'Sir, I am your servant.'
'Scipione, Alessandro, follow me!'
And accompanied by his sons, he left the room, and I remained alone.
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