"Save your life, Julio; go to Germany," said Turchi. "I will give you
money, plenty of money."
The deep red of the scar on his master's face, his expression of cunning,
his evident satisfaction, made Julio suspect some deception. He was
unable at first to imagine his secret design; but a light suddenly broke
upon his mind, and recoiling with horror and anger, he exclaimed: "What an odious trap you are setting for me! You intend to accuse me of
the murder in my absence? And while poor Julio, charged with a double
crime, finds no resting-spot upon earth, you will enjoy here in entire
security, in the midst of wealth and honor, the price of the innocent
blood which you have shed. No, no, I will bring no new anathema on my
head."
"You are silly, Julio," said Simon Turchi, disdainfully. "Should we be
arrested to-morrow, and the truth known, would you not be equally punished
for having treacherously pushed Geronimo into the chair?"
"Yes; but all would know that I neither conceived the crime, nor profited
by its commission."
"A fine consolation, to contend on the scaffold!" said the signor
ironically, repressing his impatience. "But I will speak to you plainly
and without reserve. I will state my conditions; if you refuse them, then
all is at an end between us. Each of us is at liberty to save himself even
at the sacrifice of the other. The worst part of the whole is that I might
feel myself obliged, for my own security, to make known to the authorities
of Lucca who you are."
The servant regarded his master with an expression of disgust and
aversion.
"These are my conditions," said Simon. "You will leave immediately for
Germany, and reach the Rhine as soon as possible. I will give you two
hundred crowns. Procure a carriage and horse at the very first village,
and do not stop until you are in a place of safety. To prevent any
detention on the way, I will give you a letter to Signor Mazzuchelli, a
banker at Cologne. If on the journey you are asked why you have undertaken
it, say that you are on urgent business for your master, and if necessity
require it, show the letter; but once in Cologne, do not present the
letter to Mazzuchelli. Two hundred crowns! that is a fortune, Julio. With
that you can live luxuriously for two or three years. And what difference
will it make whether you know the language of the country or not. Money
understands and speaks all languages."[26] "And when the two hundred crowns are spent, what will become of me?" said
the servant.