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Updated: June 16, 2025
"Villain," then exclaimed the Prince, grasping Mascari by the collar, "you have betrayed me!" "I assure your Excellency that the dice were properly arranged, he should have thrown twelve; but he is the Devil, and that's the end of it." "There is no time to be lost," said the Prince, quitting hold of his parasite, who quietly resettled his cravat. "My blood is up!
I will win this girl, if I die for it. Who laughed? Mascari, didst thou laugh?" "I, your Excellency, I laugh?" "It sounded behind me," said the Prince, gazing round. It was the day on which Zicci had told Glyndon that he should ask for his decision in respect to Isabel, the third day since their last meeting. The Englishman could not come to a resolution.
There and then will be the crisis of your fate; go. I have business here yet, remember, Isabel is still in the house of the dead man." As Glyndon yet hesitated, strange thoughts, doubts, and fears that longed for speech crowding within him, Mascari approached; and Zicci, turning to the Italian and waving his hand to Glyndon, drew the former aside. Glyndon slowly departed.
Mascari presented himself, pale and agitated. "My lord," said he, in a whisper, "pardon me, but a stranger is below who insists on seeing you; and from some words he let fall, I judged it advisable even to infringe your commands." "A stranger, and at this hour! What business can he pretend? Why was he even admitted?" "He asserts that your life is in imminent danger.
It might disagree with many; but do not fear, it will not harm me, Prince. Signor Mascari, you are a judge of the grape, will you favor us with your opinion?" "Nay," answered Mascari, with well-affected composure, "I like not the wines of Cyprus, they are heating. Perhaps Signor Glyndon may not have the same distaste. The English are said to love their potations warm and pungent."
Mascari muttered some inaudible words, bowed low, and led the way to the chamber in which Isabel was confined. It wanted several minutes of midnight, and Glyndon repaired to the appointed spot.
"Well, Mascari," said the Prince, looking up towards his parasite, who stood by the embrasure of the deep-set barricaded window, "well, you cannot even guess who this insolent meddler was? A pretty person you to act the part of a Prince's Ruffiano!"
Oh, no! you may be sure she went willingly enough. I only just heard the news: the prince himself proclaimed his triumph this morning, and the accommodating Mascari has been permitted to circulate it. I hope the connection will not last long, or we shall lose our best singer. Addio!" Glyndon stood mute and motionless. He knew not what to think, to believe, or how to act.
"All stratagems fair in love, as in war. Of course you profited by my defeat, and did not content yourself with leaving the little actress at her threshold?" "She is Diana for me," answered Zicci, lightly; "whoever wins the wreath will not find a flower faded." "And now you would cast for her, well; but they tell me you are ever a sure player." "Let Signor Mascari cast for us." "Be it so.
To-night, this very night, she shall be mine! You have arranged all, Mascari?" "All, signor. And if this young Englishman should accompany her home?" "The presuming barbarian! At all events let him bleed for his folly. I hear that she admits him to secret interviews. I will have no rival." "But an Englishman! There is always a search after the bodies of the English." "Fool!
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