Baluzzi hastened, in wild excitement, through the saloons, and at last found Beate upon a divan in the farthest room in the suite of apartments. Only one hanging lamp shed a dim light. Beate sprang up from the sofa and assumed an attitude prepared for defiance, for the Italian was greatly excited, and she knew that he would then recklessly indulge his wild nature. "There you are--you would speak to me--_benissimo_. I too would speak to you; you are probably afraid of me, little cat? You have an evil conscience, yes, _per dio_, I might shake you to death, because you are to blame for the last hesitation." At these words, he caught Beate with his powerful hand. But she drew out her dagger. "Stand back! I expected ill-usage; but I am prepared to protect myself from it." The Italian started back at the unexpected sight of the shining steel. "_Corpo del diavolo_," cried he, "the little witch has provided herself well, but if I were to struggle with you--" "Just try it!" "You are a little brigandess; it pleases me, it is Italian blood! But you are also an intriguer, a shameless intriguer; she follows your advice. I know it! Why was I obliged to go to the debtors' prison? Could you not release me one day sooner? If it were not for the disturbance, your dagger should not deter me, and even if the little cat were to spring into my face, I should be able to settle her." "Let us talk rationally, Baluzzi." "With the dagger in your hand?" "There is something like a wild beast about you! Fasten it in a cage--and the dagger shall return to its sheath." "Well, I will control myself, although it is difficult for me at this moment. The misfortunes which persecute me, transport me into ever new rage. Could the cursed ball not roll differently? _Sono alla disperazione_." He had seized a chair, and threw it to the ground with such force that the back broke. "Has your rage nearly exhausted itself?" asked Beate. "It was a relapse--I will be calm. Sit down. What have you to tell me?" They sat down upon the sofa; Beate watched his every movement with a keen glance. "Let us talk quietly! This cannot go on much longer!" "My business with Russia shall set me up again! '_E una fatalita!_' This _maledetto polacco_! If only they had massacred him at Ostrolenka, or beaten him to death with the knout in Siberia. He is a gambler by profession, and believes to be in possession of the only luck-bringing theory; but his theory is folly, while the misfortune is that he is fortunate. It is the second time already that he has broken my bank--without him I should be the luckiest player! He exercises an evil eye upon me--I curse him!" "Leave that alone! The misfortune is the gambling--give it up, Baluzzi! You will ruin yourself, and us with you." "She still sings splendidly; while the gold of her voice resounds, gold will resound in her money box." "But her voice is deteriorating."