During this explanation Mary remained immovable--her eyes cast down. She
had probably heard only confusedly what had just been said, for her
thoughts were evidently far away.
It was only when the servant threw open the door and announced Signor
Turchi that the young girl, aroused from her reverie, rose hastily and
went eagerly to meet him, as though she expected him to be the bearer of
important news.
Mr. Van de Werve and Deodati also met him at the door; Mary involuntarily
took both his hands in hers, and all three regarded him inquiringly.
"Alas! my friends, I know nothing," said Turchi, in a voice which seemed
but the echo of a bruised and broken heart. "All my efforts have proved
unsuccessful. I have vowed before God to spare no expense or trouble in
order to discover what has become of my unfortunate friend; but so far
impenetrable darkness covers the terrible secret. What shall we do? Let us
hope that the bailiff and his officers may be more fortunate than myself,
who have only my anxiety and affection to guide me."
The words of Simon Turchi effaced the last lingering hope from Mary's
heart, and she seated herself, exhausted from previous emotion.
Turchi drew a chair beside her, regarded her with an expression of
profound compassion, and said: "My poor Mary, your affliction is intense! I know by my own sorrow how
your loving heart is suffering from this terrible suspense!"
The young girl lifted her eyes to his face, and she saw the tears running
down his cheeks. Then she began to weep bitterly, and sobbing, she said: "Thanks, thanks, Simon! I will beg Almighty God to recompense your
affection and generosity."
Simon's countenance at this moment presented a singular appearance, from
the remarkable contrast between the pallor of his cheeks and the deep
scarlet which marked the margin of the scar on his face. The hypocrite
could shed tears at pleasure and assume an expression of extreme sorrow,
but the scar was not submissive to his will, and in spite of him its
deepening red betrayed the wicked joy of his heart at the gentle and
affectionate words of the young girl.
These words encouraged him to hope that he might fully attain the prize
for which he strove. He had, it is true, taken from his murdered friend
the proof of the debt of ten thousand crowns; true he had, as he supposed,
buried all evidence of his crime in the subterranean vault; but this did
not satisfy him. In order to feel that he had received the price of the
frightful assassination, in order to remain rich, powerful, and honored,
he required the hand of the beautiful Mary Van de Werve. He well knew that
a long time must elapse before the consummation of his hopes; still, from
the very day that he had committed the murder, he commenced to lay his
schemes, weigh his words, and so direct his plans that sooner or later he
would certainly take Geronimo's place in Mary's heart. He felt secure of
the consent of the young girl's father. It was on this account that he
feigned excessive sorrow, and gazed upon Mary with tearful eyes, as though
the sight of her grief pierced him to the heart.