"Weak, superstitious fool!" at length exclaimed the stranger, "I will waste no more words upon thee. Do, or say, what thou wilt; but beware!" And spurning him haughtily back with his foot, he strode away. The old man's reverend head struck against the marble floor. His temple was cut open by the fall, and blood gushed in torrents from the wound. Recovering himself, he started to his feet--a knife was instantly in his hand, and he would have pursued and doubtless slain his aggressor, if he had not been forcibly withheld by his son, and by a priest who had joined them. "_Maledizione!_" exclaimed the old man--"a blow from _him_--from _that_ hand! I will stab him, though he were at the altar's foot; though he had a thousand lives, each should pay for it. Release me, Paolo! release me! for, by Heaven, he dies!" "Peace, father!" cried the son, still struggling with him. "Thou art not _my_ son, to hinder my revenge!" shouted the enraged father. "Dost not see this blood--_my_ blood--thy father's blood?--and thou holdest me back! Thou shouldst have struck him to the earth for the deed--but he was a noble, and thou daredst not lift thy hand against him!" "Wouldst thou have had me slay him in this holy place?" exclaimed Paolo, reddening with anger and suppressed emotion. "No, no," returned the old man, in an altered voice; "not here, not _here_, though 'twere but just retribution. But I will find other means of vengeance. I will denounce him--I will betray all, though it cost me my own life! He shall die by the hands of the common executioner;--there is one shall testify for me!" And he pointed to me. Again I advanced towards him. "If thou hast aught to disclose pertaining to the Holy Church, I am ready to listen to thee, my son," said the priest; "but reflect well ere thou bringest any charge thou mayest not be able to substantiate against one who stands so high in her esteem as him thou wouldst accuse." The son gave his father a meaning look, and whispered somewhat in his ear. The old man became suddenly still. "Right, right," said he; "I have bethought me. 'Twas but a blow. He is wealthy, I am poor; there is no justice for the poor in Rome." "My purse is at your service," said I, interfering; "you shall have my aid." "Your aid!" echoed the old man, staring at me; "will _you_ assist me, signor?" "I will." "Enough. I may claim fulfilment of your promise." "Stop, old man," I said; "answer me one question ere you depart. Whence arose your recent terrors?" "You shall know hereafter, signor," he said; "I must now begone. We shall meet again. Follow me not," he continued, seeing I was bent upon obtaining further explanation of the mystery. "You will learn nothing now, and only endanger my safety. _Addio, signor._" And with hasty steps he quitted the church, accompanied by his son. "Who is that old man?" I demanded of the priest.