“Will you be here, signor, when I return from the cellar?”

“I don’t know, Julio; as soon as I have washed off the blood, I shall leave.  Make haste, and possibly you may find me here.  In all events I will wait for you this evening at the factory, and besides the two crowns, I will give you a whole bottle of Malmsey.”

“Agreed,” said Julio; “I will do my best to please you.”

He descended the staircase, and when he reached the room where the horrible murder had been committed, he stood for a moment with his arms folded.  He turned pale and shook his head compassionately.

The poor Geronimo was extended in the chair, with his eyes closed.  His head had fallen on the arm of the chair; his two hands were joined, as if in prayer for his cruel murderer.  His garments were saturated with blood, and his feet rested in a pool of blood.  There was a large wound in his neck and another in his breast; his face was not in the least stained, and although it was covered by the pallor of death, his countenance wore a sweet, tranquil expression, as though he had gently fallen asleep.

“Poor Signor Geronimo!” said Julio, sighing heavily.  “Beauty! generosity! wealth! all fallen under the blade of a wretch!  What is man’s life?  He, however, will in heaven, with God, be indemnified for his horrible death.  And we?  But the present is not the time for reflections and lamentations; my pity will not restore this corpse to life.  I must now close my eyes to the future, and fulfil my horrible task.”

He knelt behind the chair, passed his arm under it, and turned a screw.  The springs opened and loosed their hold upon the inanimate body.

Julio held it by the arms and dragged it through the hall until he reached a staircase conducting to a cellar.  There he left the corpse, entered an adjoining room, and returned with a lamp.  Holding the light in his hand, he descended until he reached a subterranean passage.  Very deep under the ground, and at the end of this passage, was a kind of vaulted cellar closed by a heavy door.  Julio opened the door, and by the light of the lamp examined a grave which had been dug in one corner of the cellar, and on the sides of which lay the earth which had been excavated.[20]

After a rapid survey, he placed the lamp outside the door against the wall of the passage, and returned for the dead body.

When he had carried his burden as far as the subterranean passage, he panted for breath and seemed overcome by fatigue.  He, however, exerted all his strength in order to finish as soon as possible his painful task, and dragged the corpse into the cellar.  There he let it fall upon the side of the grave already prepared for its reception.  After resting a few moments, he was about to cast it into the grave and cover it with earth, but he desisted, saying: 

“Bah! the poor young man will not run away.  Perhaps Signor Turchi has not yet left.  At any rate, I will first wash away the blood stains, and then I will return to bury the body.”