"Oh! let me be silent; despair tortures my heart. I can tell no one but the bailiff; he will soon be here. If I could but doubt! But no, it is too true; there is no more hope! May the God of mercy receive his poor soul into heaven!" "Of whom do you speak?" exclaimed Deodati. "His soul? Whose soul? Geronimo's?" Steps were heard in the vestibule. Simon Turchi went to the door, and said: "Here is the bailiff! He will know the secret which is breaking my heart." The bailiff entered the room, looked around in surprise, and at last said to Simon Turchi, who continued to talk confusedly: "You have sent for me in all haste, in order to make a terrible revelation; I am here with my officers. Have you discovered Geronimo's assassins? Speak, Simon, and tell us what you know." "So horrible is this secret, messire, that my tongue refuses to tell it. Ah! if I could forever--" "Calm yourself, signor," said the bailiff, with perfect self-possession. "What have you learned?" "But--but I must be alone with you. The news I have to communicate must not be revealed before Signor Deodati." The old man said, with tearful eyes: "You are cruel, Signor Simon! What could you say more terrible? You speak of Geronimo's soul; you announce his death, and yet you leave me in this horrible doubt. Speak, I conjure you." All that Simon Turchi had said was only a deception practised upon his auditors, in order to make them believe that grief had affected his mind, and to prepare the way for his revelation. At last he appeared to yield to necessity, and said: "God grant that the frightful news may not afflict you as it did me! Listen! you know that two days ago my servant Julio left my service because I severely reproved his irregularities. This disquieted me, because I had noticed that he was pursued by some secret remorse. Just now, hardly a half hour ago, I left my residence, and was going towards the Dominican church to pray for my poor friend. On the way I thought of my servant Julio, and feared that in his despair he might have taken his life. When I was near the bridge, I heard my own name timidly pronounced. I turned and saw Julio. I commenced to reproach him with his absence, but putting his finger on his lips, he whispered: "'Signor, I beg you to follow me; I have a secret to reveal to you.' "His manner and tone of voice were so peculiar that I accompanied him to a retired spot. His revelation caused me such intense grief that I could hardly stand, and I was obliged to support myself against the wall as I received the confession of the penitent assassin." A cry of horror escaped Deodati. Eager to hear the remainder, Mr. Van de Werve gazed fixedly upon the narrator. The bailiff was more calm--he listened attentively and nodded his head, as if he foresaw the conclusion of Turchi's narrative. "I hardly dare continue," he said. "My soul revolts--but I must disregard my feelings," and in a more tranquil manner, he resumed: