"You would do so in vain, signor. You will work with me until all is done." "Pietro Mostajo, do you dare to defy me, and that too at the very moment when the blood is boiling in my veins? Do as I command, or before night the authorities of Lucca shall know who you are." "Ah!" said Julio, with a scornful laugh, "Pietro Mostajo and the authorities of Lucca have lost their power over me. As long as I had no proofs of crime against you, I had cause to fear you; but would you dare now to reveal my real name, now that by one word I can deliver you into the hands of the executioner? Hereafter, signor, you will speak to me neither so harshly nor so haughtily. In this affair there is neither master nor servant. We are two men, guilty of the same crime. Draw your dagger, if you choose. Vain threat! Can you do without me?" Simon Turchi grit his teeth in impotent rage; but soon recovering himself, he took his servant's hand, and said beseechingly: "You are right, Julio; we are rather two friends than master and servant. Let me then, as friend and companion, implore a favor at your hands. You must see that it is important for me to go without delay to the factory to change my dress. For the safety of both of us I ought to leave immediately for the city, in order to prevent suspicion. Geronimo is not heavy; you can, without difficulty, drag him down stairs." The servant shook his head, but was evidently hesitating. "Come, Julio; I beg, I entreat you to do what the safety of both of us requires. You still hesitate, Julio? I will reward you generously. This very evening I will give you two crowns if you tell me you have done faithfully and carefully what I have requested." "Will you be here, signor, when I return from the cellar?" "I don't know, Julio; as soon as I have washed off the blood, I shall leave. Make haste, and possibly you may find me here. In all events I will wait for you this evening at the factory, and besides the two crowns, I will give you a whole bottle of Malmsey." "Agreed," said Julio; "I will do my best to please you." He descended the staircase, and when he reached the room where the horrible murder had been committed, he stood for a moment with his arms folded. He turned pale and shook his head compassionately. The poor Geronimo was extended in the chair, with his eyes closed. His head had fallen on the arm of the chair; his two hands were joined, as if in prayer for his cruel murderer. His garments were saturated with blood, and his feet rested in a pool of blood. There was a large wound in his neck and another in his breast; his face was not in the least stained, and although it was covered by the pallor of death, his countenance wore a sweet, tranquil expression, as though he had gently fallen asleep.