“Yes, Julio, it is true.”

“How blessed you are, signor!”

“Yes, Julio, God has bestowed upon me the greatest earthly blessing, for which I shall eternally thank him.  On the solemn day of our nuptials you will have cause to rejoice.”

“I, signor?”

“Yes, you, Julio.  Miss Van de Werve wishes to recompense you herself for the assistance you gave me against Bufferio and his comrades.  The day of my marriage you will receive a new cloak, a new doublet, new small-clothes of fine cloth and silk, such as a servant has never worn.”

Julio, touched by this proof of kindness, stammered his thanks indistinctly.  He heard the young man speaking to him and telling him how richly he deserved such a present, but he paid no attention to the words; he was endeavoring to bring himself to the degree of audacity requisite to fulfil his master’s orders.  Geronimo stood immediately in front of the arm-chair.

With bitter repugnance, but incited by the fear that no more favorable opportunity would present itself, he approached Geronimo as though to express his thanks anew.  With one bound he sprang upon him, placed a hand on either shoulder, and pushed him forcibly into the chair.[19]

The seat of the deceptive piece of furniture sank down; from the arms started two powerful springs, which caught the young man around the waist, and held him so tightly against the back of the chair that it was impossible for him to move.

“Julio, Julio, what horrible jest is this?” he exclaimed.  “Is it a trap?  Do you act by your master’s orders?”

But the servant, without saying a word in reply, left the room, closing the door behind him.

“Tell me, Julio,” asked Turchi, descending the staircase to meet his servant, “is he caught?”

“The chair has done its work,” replied Julio; “go do yours.  Lose no time; he might give an alarm which would betray us.  The fear of death gives superhuman strength to a man’s lungs.  Signor, it seems to me that my head is not safe on my shoulders.  How does yours feel?”

But Simon Turchi heeded not this jest.  He muttered a few indistinct words, drew his sword, and rushed down the steps to wreak his vengeance on the unfortunate Geronimo.

The servant remained where his master left him, listened to his footsteps until he heard the door of the fatal room open and then close again.

At first no sound reached his ear, but soon he heard Geronimo calling for help, and his master mocking and menacing him; at least he judged this by the tones of their voices, for he was too far off to distinguish the words.  Urged by feeling rather than curiosity, he descended the staircase, and listened at the door of the room in which so horrible a crime was about to be committed.

He heard Geronimo say, in an earnest, pleading tone: 

“Dear Simon, your mind is deranged.  You, my friend, kill me!  It is impossible.  Put down that dagger; at least let me not die without confession.  If it be the ten thousand crowns exasperating you, I make you a present of them; tear up in my presence the acknowledgment of the debt, and I will never speak to you of it again.”