ered?"

"No, when it is dangerous to kill in the city, I do it in my own
house. There in the gloom of night, far away from help, it is easy
enough. No one ever finds it out."

"You are the wickedest man I know--not excepting myself," said
Rigoletto, contemplating the wretch with curiosity. "Tell me how you
lure people to your home?"

"Easy enough. I have a handsome sister there. Nobody ever thinks of
resisting her. She gets them to come; I do the rest."

"I follow you."

"Then not a sound is heard. The knife is a silent fellow. Now what do
you think?--that I can serve you?"

"No. I don't like the notion." Rigoletto was not half as daring of
wicked deeds as he had been an hour before; the curse was still
ringing in his ears.

"You have enemies, I judge," Sparafucile urged, shrewdly. "You'll
regret not accepting my services."

"Nay. Be off. No, stay a moment! If I ever should need thee, where
could I address thee?"

"You won't have to address me; you'll find me here each night."

"Well, be off, be off!" As a fact Rigoletto didn't much care to be
seen with one of his own kind. But he looked after the _coupe-jarret_
uneasily. "After all, we are equals, that fellow and I. He stabs in
the dark--and so do I. I with my malicious tongue, he with his knife.
Bah! I am all undone. I hear that old man's curse yet. How I hate
them, all those nobles who hire me to laugh for them and to make them
laugh! I haven't even a right to know sadness. It is my business in
life, because I am born crooked, to make sport for these rats of
fellows who are no better than I am. I am hired to bear the burden of
their crimes. I wish they all had but one neck; I'd strangle them with
one hand." Overwhelmed with the exciting scenes of the night, he
turned toward the gate in his garden wall. As he opened it, Gilda ran
out gaily to meet him. To her he was only the loving and tender
father. She waited for his coming all day, and had no pleasure till
she saw him.

"Oh, in this abode, my nature changes," the crooked little man
murmured as he folded his daughter in his arms.

"Near thee, my daughter, I find all the joy on earth that is left me,"
he said, trying to control his emotion.

"You love me, father?"

"Aye!--thou art my only comfort."

"Father, there is often something mysterious in thy actions. You have
never told me of my mother. Who was my mother, dear father?"

[Music:

Ah why recall in misery,
What tempests dread