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The old Deodati, still weeping, threw his arms around her neck, and murmured: "God bless you, my child, for your love. Let us pray for him!" Mr. Van de Werve had left the room to call Petronilla. He returned with her, and said to his daughter: "Mary, go with your duenna. You must not remain here longer."
Van de Werve," said Geronimo. "Cheer up, Simon; hide your emotion. When I am my own master, I will aid you in your affairs. In the meantime put your trust in God." The man with the scar made a powerful effort to control himself, and advancing cheerfully to meet Mr. Van de Werve, he said to his companion: "My emotion was natural under the circumstances; now that the blow has fallen, it is all over.
A torrent of tears fell from his eyes, and while Deodati and Mr. Van de Werve begged him to tell the cause of big extraordinary emotion, he stammered: "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!"
Now I begin to think that, in order to escape his uncle's anger, he has left the city and country." "Impossible!" exclaimed Mr. Van de Werve. "Impossible?" repeated Turchi, "he would have gone ere this, had I not persuaded him that he would obtain his uncle's pardon.
A child whom I treated as my own son, whom I loved with blind affection, and over whose welfare I would have watched as long as I lived. And this is the return for all my love! Ah! signor, this ingratitude is like a dagger in my heart." Mr. Van de Werve gazed abstractedly as if in deep thought. Then he said, seriously: "You are truly unhappy, signor, and I commiserate your sorrow.
Van de Werve had at first remained near the door in order to welcome his guests as they entered; but supposing that the greater part of those invited had arrived, he left this place and was walking from group to group, joining in conversation for a few moments, and saying some pleasant words to each. The old Deodati had seated himself in an arm-chair apart.
Van de Werve thought it better to change the conversation, and said to Deodati: "Let us not forget, signor, that we are men, and that it becomes us to bear up courageously under a painful suspense, and in a manner to which a young girl might be unequal. Have you heard nothing since the morning? Have you not seen Signor Turchi?"
He wishes to marry Mary Van de Werve, and he desires to remove any cause of fear that his happiness may be disturbed. Ah! the poison consumes me!" "Tell me, Julio, what I can do for your relief."
I had been looking too long at the large lustre, and its brilliant light made me dizzy. But let us rise, signor, there is the beautiful Mary, la bionda maraviglia!" Mr. Van de Werve appeared at this moment at the door, and introduced his beloved child. A murmur of admiration ran through the assembly, and room was made for the father and daughter. The beauty of Mary surpassed all expectation.
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.
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