“Signore,” he said, “there has been much secret allusion between us, and I suppose that it is unnecessary for me to say, that you are known to me.’

“I have already recognized thee for a country man,” coldly returned the Genoese; “it is vain however, to imagine the circumstance can avail a murderer.  If any consideration could induce me to forget the claims of justice, the recollection of thy good service on the Leman would prove thy best friend.  As it is, I fear thou hast naught to expect from me.”

Maso was silent.  He looked the other steadily in the face, as if he would study his character, though he guardedly prevented his manner from losing its appearance of profound respect.

“Signore, the chances of life were greatly with you at the birth.  You were born the heir of a powerful house, in which gold is more plenty than woes in a poor man’s cabin, and you have not been made to learn by experience how hard it is to keep down the longings for those pleasures which the base metal will purchase, when we see others rolling in its luxuries.”

“This plea will not avail thee, unfortunate man; else were there an end of human institutions.  The difference of which thou speakest is a simple consequence of the rights of property; and even the barbarian admits the sacred duty of respecting that which is another’s.”

“A word from one like you, illustrious Signore, would open for me the road to Piedmont,” continued Maso, unmoved:  “once across the frontiers, it shall be my care never to molest the rocks of Valais again.  I ask only what I have been the means of saving, eccellenza,—­life.”

The Signor Grimaldi shook his head, though it was very evident that he declined the required intercession with much reluctance.  He and old Melchior de Willading exchanged glances; and all who noted this silent intercourse understood it to say, that each considered duty to God a higher obligation than gratitude for a service rendered to themselves.

“Ask gold, or what thou wilt else, but do not ask me to aid in defeating justice.  Gladly would I have given for the asking, twenty times the value of those miserable baubles for whose possession, Maso, thou hast rashly taken life; but I cannot become a sharer of thy crime, by refusing atonement to his friends.  It is too late:  I cannot befriend thee now, if I would.”

“Thou nearest the answer of this noble gentleman,” interposed the chatelain; “it is wise and seemly, and thou greatly overratest his influence or that of any present, if thou fanciest the laws can be set aside at pleasure.  Wert thou a noble thyself, or the son of a prince, judgment would have its way in the Valais!”

Maso smiled wildly; and yet the expression of his glittering eye was so ironical as to cause uneasiness in his judge.  The Signor Grimaldi, too, observed the audacious confidence of his air with distrust, for his spirit had taken secret alarm on a subject that was rarely long absent from his thoughts.