“Che la pace sia in quelle casa!” (May peace be in this house!) he said, as he entered the hall.

He bowed profoundly to Mr. Van de Werve, and saluted him most respectfully; but the traces of tears which he perceived on Mary’s face so startled him that he interrupted his ceremonious greetings, and fixed his eyes inquiringly upon her.  She had been weeping, and yet she smiled joyously.

“Mary is naturally very susceptible, Signor Geronimo,” said Mr. Van de Werve.  “I was speaking to her of her beloved mother, and she wept.  You appear, and she smiles as though she knew no sorrow.”

The young girl did not await the conclusion of this explanation; before her father had finished speaking, she led her lover to the window, pointed to the weathercock, and said:  “Look, Geronimo, the wind is from the west.”

“I noticed it last night,” replied the young man, with an involuntary sigh.

“Rejoice then, for to-day your uncle may be in sight of the city.”

“I do not think so; however, it is possible,” said the young man, sadly.

“How coldly you speak, Geronimo!” exclaimed the young girl, in surprise; “what cloud obscures your soul?”

“I myself notice something extraordinary in your manner, signor,” remarked the father.  “You seem dejected; have you received bad news of your uncle?”

Geronimo hesitated for an answer; then, as though endeavoring to drive away unpleasant thoughts, he said, in a faltering voice:  “No, no, it is not that.  I witnessed just now near the Dominican Convent something which touched me deeply, and I have not yet recovered from the shock.  Have you not heard of a Florentine merchant named Massimo Barberi?”

“Is he noble?” asked Mary.  “I do not remember him.”

“No, a commoner, but a man highly esteemed.”

“I know him well,” said Mr. Van de Werve.  “I met him lately in company with Lopez de Galle, for whom he had attended to some financial affairs.  What have you to tell us concerning him?”

“Something terrible, Mr. Van de Werve.  I saw the corpse of poor Barberi taken out of a sewer; he had two dagger-wounds in his throat.  He was undoubtedly attacked and slain last night.”

“It is had to see so many murders committed in Antwerp,” said Mr. Van de Werve.  “This is the fourth during the past month.  The victims each time have been either Spaniards or Italians, and that vengeance or jealousy was the cause is sufficiently proved by the fact that in no case have the bodies been despoiled of their money or jewels.  This custom of lying in wait, attacking and killing each other, often without cause, is an outrage both against God and man.  And do you not yourself sometimes fear, Signor Geronimo, the assassin’s dagger?”

The young man shook his head.