"Ha! ha!" he chuckled fearfully to himself, as he now paced the room with a lighter step--as if joy filled his heart; "all those who have injured me are within the reach of my vengeance. The Jew in the inquisition; the marquis open to a charge of diabolical sacrilege--and Giulia assuredly in Florence! I dealt too leniently with that Jew--I sent to pay for the redemption of jewels which were my own property! All my life have I been a just--a humane--a merciful man; I will be so no more. The world's doings are adverse to generosity and fair-dealing. In my old age have I learnt this! Oh! the perfidy of women toward a doting--a confiding--a fond heart, works strange alterations in the heart of the deceived one! I, who but a year--nay, six months ago--would not harm the meanest reptile that crawls, now thirst for vengeance--vengeance," repeated the old man, in a shrieking, hysterical tone, "upon those who have wronged me! I will exterminate them at one fell swoop--exterminate them all--all!" And his voice rang screechingly and wildly through the lofty room of that splendid mansion. CHAPTER LI. THE MEETING. On the bank of the Arno, in a somewhat retired situation, stood a neat cottage in the midst of a little garden, surrounded by no formal pile of bricks to constitute a wall, but protected only by its own sweet hedge or fragrant shrubs and blooming plants. Over the portico of the humble but comfortable tenement twined the honeysuckle and the clematis; and the sides of the building were almost completely veiled by the vines amidst the verdant foliage of which appeared large hunches of purple grapes. At an open casement on the ground floor, an elderly female, very plainly but very neatly attired, and wearing a placid smile and a good-natured expression upon a countenance which had once been handsome, sat watching the glorious spectacle of the setting sun. The orb of day went down in a flood of purple and gold, behind the western hills; and now the dame began suddenly to cast uneasy glances toward the path that led along the bank of the river. But the maiden for whose return the good aunt felt anxious, was not far distant; indeed Flora Francatelli, wearing a thick veil over her head, was already proceeding homeward after a short ramble by the margin of the stream, when the reverie in which she was plunged was interrupted by the sounds of hasty footsteps behind. Ever fearful of treachery since the terrible incident of her imprisonment in the Carmelite Convent, she redoubled her speed, blaming herself for having been beguiled by the beauty of the evening to prolong her walk farther than she intended on setting out--when the increasing haste of the footsteps behind her excited the keenest alarms within her bosom--for she now felt convinced that she was pursued.