The sight of-his master’s desolation seemed to make some impression upon Julio; he regarded him compassionately, and at last said, kindly: 

“Come, signor, calm yourself.  All is not lost, and if my good-will can save you, I will show you that Julio has the courage and resolution to carry him through a difficult enterprise.  Since you think I am able to take the corpse alone to the sewer, I will attempt it.  Perhaps I may overrate the difficulties.  Be calm, and rely upon my word.”

The signor knew that once having made up his mind, his servant would unhesitatingly execute what he had undertaken, and he comprehended by his manner that his promise was seriously made.  He pressed his hand, and said, joyfully: 

“Thanks, Julio, I owe to you my honor and my life.  I will never forget it, and when once the sword, now hanging over my head, is removed, I will reward you magnificently.  Go now to the country-house, disinter the body, and carry it up to the ground-floor.  This will give you less work later.  Fill the grave thoroughly, and as far as possible destroy all appearance of the earth having been recently dug.”

Julio apparently let his master’s words fall unheeded on his ear; he suddenly struck his forehead with his fist, as if an unwelcome idea had forced itself upon him.

“What is the matter?” asked Turchi, anxiously.

“Fool that I am!” exclaimed Julio.

“Speak lower,” said Simon.  “What troubles you?”

“Did you not notice, signor, how bright it was last night?  It is clear weather, and the moon is full!  How could I carry a dead body to the sewer with such light to betray me?  It is impossible; I cannot think of it.”

These words forced from Simon a cry of anguish.  He seemed crushed under the fate which was visibly pursuing him.  The cowardice and ill-will of his servant had not cast him into despair like this last obstacle; for he well knew that either by threats or promises of reward he could overcome Julio’s resistance; but what could prevent the moon from shining?  It was clear that no way remained of removing Geronimo’s body from the cellar, and the officers of the law would infallibly discover where the murder had been committed.

It was then true that for him there was no escape from ruin; that a mysterious power opposed all his plans; perhaps God himself was interposing to prevent him from saving his life.

The supposition made him shudder; nevertheless he tortured his mind to discover some plank of safety; a thousand tumultuous thoughts presented themselves.  Might they not bury the body in a retired spot of the garden, plunge it in the basin of the fountain, or conceal it under the stones of the grotto?  But none of these plans could be accomplished without leaving traces which would lead to certain discovery.

Suddenly a happy idea seemed to occur to him, for his face brightened; he arose and said: