“Who talks of murder now?” I cried, in bitter derision.  “Oh, what a joy you have lost!  What triumph for you, could you have stabbed me to the heart and left me here dead indeed!  What a new career of lies would have been yours!  How sweetly you would have said your prayers with the stain of my blood upon your soul!  Ay! you would have fooled the world to the end, and died in the odor of sanctity.  And you dared to ask my forgiveness—­”

I stopped short—­a strange, bewildered expression suddenly passed over her face—­she looked about her in a dazed, vague way—­then her gaze became suddenly fixed, and she pointed toward a dark corner and shuddered.

“Hush—­hush!” she said, in a low, terrified whisper.  “Look! how still he stands! how pale he seems!  Do not speak—­do not move—­hush! he must not hear your voice—­I will go to him and tell him all—­all--” She rose and stretched out her arms with a gesture of entreaty: 

“Guido!  Guido!”

With a sudden chilled awe at my heart I looked toward the spot that thus riveted her attention—­all was shrouded in deep gloom.  She caught my arm.

“Kill him!” she whispered, fiercely—­“kill him, and then I will love you!  Ah!” and with an exclamation of fear she began to retire swiftly backward as though confronted by some threatening figure.  “He is coming—­nearer!  No, no, Guido!  You shall not touch me—­you dare not—­Fabio is dead and I am free—­free!” She paused—­her wild eyes gazed upward—­did she see some horror there?  She put up both hands as though to shield herself from some impending blow, and uttering a loud cry she fell prone on the stone floor insensible.  Or dead?  I balanced this question indifferently, as I looked down upon her inanimate form.  The flavor of vengeance was hot in my mouth, and filled me with delirious satisfaction.  True, I had been glad, when my bullet whizzing sharply through the air had carried death to Guido, but my gladness had been mingled with ruthfulness and regret.  Now, not one throb of pity stirred me—­not the faintest emotion of tenderness, Ferrari’s sin was great, but she tempted him—­her crime outweighed his.  And now—­there she lay white and silent—­in a swoon that was like death—­that might be death for aught I knew—­or cared!  Had her lover’s ghost indeed appeared before the eyes of her guilty conscience?  I did not doubt it—­I should scarcely have been startled had I seen the poor pale shadow of him by my side, as I musingly gazed upon the fair fallen body of the traitress who had wantonly wrecked both our lives.

“Ay, Guido,” I muttered, half aloud—­“dost see the work?  Thou art avenged, frail spirit—­avenged as well as I—­part thou in peace from earth and its inhabitants!—­haply thou shalt cleanse in pure fire the sins of thy lower nature, and win a final pardon; but for her—­ is hell itself black enough to match her soul?”