The year did not pass without the warning of the women to him being verified. Once a bullet whistled past him as he rode, and cut off the oak leaves at his shoulder. But the forest growth hid the would-be assassin from his sight; and another night, when he rode over the wooden bridge often used by him in returning homeward, the planks gave way beneath his horse’s tread, and the animal and he escaped by a miracle from a bad fall on to jagged rocks and into deep water; and when he examined it by daylight it seemed to him that the timbers had been sawn nearly asunder, so as to give way under vibration. But of the guilty persons there was no trace. What affected him more was when his dog, a greyhound of large size and great beauty, sent to him by Gandolfo, was found dead one noonday stretched out on the terrace, with all the signs of death, by a poison which the woodlanders extracted from adders which they caught and robbed of their venom, treating it as they did also the poison of the night-shade, and the hemlock, and the corn-crowfoot, in a manner learned by oral recipes handed down from remote Etruscan times. It was only the eldest living son who received that teaching from the head of the family, and in turn passed it to his heir, with many another dark secret of subterranean waters, and buried passages, and rock tombs and hollow ways in which a fugitive from justice might dwell safely many a year. Muriella had no doubt as to who had slain the greyhound; for Alcide was so good-natured, so industrious, so quiet, by comparison with his ordinary habit, that she felt sure he had done some evil successfully. Cyrille offered rewards and made investigations as to the dog’s death uselessly. Concerning his own danger he said nothing; he sent workmen to mend the bridge, affecting to take for granted that the timber had been rotten and old. If any were disappointed by his escape, they kept their chagrin to themselves and bided their time. Vengeance is like a good Falernian or Chianti wine; it only mellows with keeping.