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Let us pray!" He knelt before the crucifix, bowed his head and joined his hands. Geronimo and Mary knelt beside the old man, Mr. Van de Werve behind them. For a long time they lifted their grateful hearts in thanksgiving to the God of goodness. It was six o'clock in the morning. The height of the sun indicated that the warm season of summer had replaced the mild month of May.
From the ceiling were suspended six gilded chandeliers; on the mantelpiece were two candelabras; along the walls, where the pillars formed projections, numerous sconces were fastened; and when Mr. Van de Werve received his friends in the evening, the reflection of the numberless wax candles from the many gold and silver ornaments gave a princely air to the hall.
In order to feel that he had received the price of the frightful assassination, in order to remain rich, powerful, and honored, he required the hand of the beautiful Mary Van de Werve.
Shortly after he left the garden, and with rapid strides threaded the obscure streets to rejoin his master, and also to cast off his blood-stained garments. Mary Van De Werve was in her own apartment, kneeling before a silver crucifix; she seemed bowed down by a weight of woe. Her head rested upon her clasped hands. She had been weeping bitterly; for there were traces of tears upon the prie-Dieu.
"Do not suppose, Mr. Van de Werve, that on that account I would be guilty of any foolish imprudence. I know that the eye and sword are good sentinels. When I pass through the streets at night, I am always well accompanied, and my hand never leaves the hilt of my sword. Therefore have no anxiety on this point, and permit me to perform my duty to her to whom I owe homage and respect."
An old gray-headed peasant, after having listened to the conversation going on among the peasants, recognized in the crowd a man from his own village, who had been residing for some time in the city, near the church of Saint James, and who consequently, he thought, must be better informed than the others in regard to Miss Van de Werve.
Van de Werve heard the street-door open, and said eagerly to the old merchant: "Signor, my daughter is at church and may return at any moment. I beg you not to speak of these things in her presence. Since the disappearance of Geronimo, she does nothing but weep and pray; no consideration alleviates her sorrow, nothing consoles her. If she were suddenly to lose all hope, it might cause her death.
He begs you to excuse him from accompanying you to-night to the serenade." Geronimo's countenance assumed an expression of deep compassion. The young man concluded that his own happiness, his approaching marriage with Miss Van de Werve, had touched the heart of his poor friend, and that his present state of health was the consequence of these painful emotions.
Van de Werve, for your proffered friendship, but I shall not remain at Antwerp. To-day I shall beg Signor Turchi to settle up the affairs of the house in this city. Now that I have no one in the world to care for, none for whom to work and amass money, I shall retire from commerce. I have ordered the Il Salvatore to be provisioned, and I shall set sail by the first favorable wind."
At the foot of the cross was a gray stone, rudely inlaid. The whole was rough and heavy. Mr. Van de Werve examined this medal attentively for some time; he turned it over and over, as though he sought to comprehend the signification of this singular emblem. "A relic!" he murmured. "Here are two cimeters, a crescent, and cabalistic characters.
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