“Have you no heart, no reverence, no decency?” he said. “In the name of everything you respect, I call upon you to stop this sacrilegious outbreak.” O’Brien shook off the priestly hand, and fixed his eyes upon Seraphina. I happened to be looking at his face; he seemed to be ready to go out of his mind. His jealousy, the awful torment of soul and body, made him motionless and speechless. Seeing Don Balthasar appear by the balustrade, the ruffians below had become silent for a while. His aged, mechanical voice was heard asking distinctly: “What do these people want?” Seraphina, from within the room, said aloud, “They are clamouring for the life of our guest.” She looked at O’Brien contemptuously, “They are doing this to please you.” “Before God, I have nothing to do with this.” It was true enough, he had nothing to do with this outbreak; and I believe he would have interfered, but, in his dismay at having lost himself in the eyes of Seraphina, in his rage against myself, he did not know how to act. No doubt he had been deceiving himself as to his position with Seraphina. He was a man who in his wishes. His desire of revenge on me, the downfall of his hopes (he could no longer deceive himself), a desperate striving of thought for their regaining, his impulse towards the impossible--all these emotions paralyzed his will. Don Balthasar beckoned to me. “Don’t go near him,” said O’Brien, in a thick, mumbling voice. “I shall------I must------” I put him aside. Don Balthasar took my arm. “Misguided populace,” he whispered. “They have been a source of sorrow to me lately. But this wicked folly is incredible. I shall call upon them to come to their senses. My voice------” The court below was strongly lighted, so that I saw the bearded, bronzed, wild faces of the _Lugareños_ looking up. We, also, were strongly shown by the light of the doorway behind us, and by the torches burning in the gallery. That morning, in my helplessness, I had come to put my trust in accident--in some accident--I hardly knew of what nature--my own death, perhaps--that would find a solution for my responsibilities, put an end to my tormenting thoughts. And now the accident came with a terrible swiftness, at which I shudder to this day. We were looking down into the _patio_. Don Balthasar had just said, “You are nowhere as safe as by my side,” when I noticed a _Lugareño_ withdrawing himself from the throng about the basin. His face came to me familiarly. He was the pirate with the broken nose, who had had a taste of my fist. He had the sentry’s musket on his shoulder, and was slinking away towards the gate.