The Amulet

He approached a large wardrobe, took from it a bottle, poured out a large

glass of wine and drank it. Lighted by the lamp, he descended the

staircase and approached the cellar; but before proceeding through the

subterranean passage, he hesitated and stepped back: "Singular!" he said; "I am overpowered by fear! I recoil in terror before

that dark cave, as though the dead could arise from the grave to take

revenge. What! I had the courage to stab him while living, and yet I

tremble upon approaching the spot where lie his inanimate remains! Away

with this childish terror!"

However bold his words, the Signor Turchi did not become calm, and his

heart beat violently as he again slowly approached the entrance to the

cellar. He hesitated an instant, as he looked down the long, dark passage,

but was about to proceed, when a noise outside the building made him shake

with fear.

"What can it be? Am I not mistaken? Some one unlocks the garden-gate! Will

I be found here? Am I betrayed?"

After a moment of torturing doubt he fled from the cellar to his room, his

hair bristling with terror.

"They open the door of the house! They are within! They come! Great

heavens! What can it mean?"

A man appeared on the threshold of the room in which Simon Turchi had

taken refuge.

"Julio! it is Julio!" exclaimed Simon, in despair.

The servant reeled under the influence of liquor. His cheeks were flushed,

his eyes wandering, and while the smile upon his lips indicated a

disagreeable surprise at the presence of his master, it also said plainly

that he feared not Simon's anger. He held in his hand a small wheaten

loaf, but he hid it hastily under his doublet as if unwilling for Turchi

to see it.

Casting upon him a look of fury, Simon Turchi sprang to his feet, clenched

his fist, and exclaimed in a rage: "This is too much! Infamous traitor! cowardly rascal! whence do you come?

Does hell itself bring you here for the destruction of both of us? Speak,

base drunkard, and tell me why you are here! Quick, or I will stretch you

dead at my feet. I thirst for your blood."

Julio drew his knife from the scabbard and stammered, in a voice

indistinct from intoxication: "Wait awhile, signor. Wine, good wine has dulled my senses. You want to

kill me? It would be very fortunate for one of us to die here--the

executioner would have less work. But which of us must first render our

account before the supreme tribunal, my knife and your dagger will decide.

I am ready."