upon the black wall of the inner
courtyard. Within that circle he saw the shadow of a group such as
Canova alone has attempted to render. The Spaniard turned back.

"I do not know," he said to the Marana, "where to find the key."

"You are very pale," she said.

"And I will show you why," he cried, seizing his dagger and rapping its
hilt violently on Juana's door as he shouted,--

"Open! open! open! Juana!"

Juana did not open, for she needed time to conceal Montefiore. She knew
nothing of what was passing in the salon; the double portieres of thick
tapestry deadened all sounds.

"Madame, I lied to you in saying I could not find the key. Here it is,"
added Perez, taking it from a sideboard. "But it is useless. Juana's key
is in the lock; her door is barricaded. We have been deceived, my wife!"
he added, turning to Dona Lagounia. "There is a man in Juana's room."

"Impossible! By my eternal salvation I say it is impossible!" said his
wife.

"Do not swear, Dona Lagounia. Our honor is dead, and this woman--"
He pointed to the Marana, who had risen and was standing motionless,
blasted by his words, "this woman has the right to despise us. She saved
our life, our fortune, and our honor, and we have saved nothing for her
but her money--Juana!" he cried again, "open, or I will burst in your
door."

His voice, rising in violence, echoed through the garrets in the roof.
He was cold and calm. The life of Montefiore was in his hands; he would
wash away his remorse in the blood of that Italian.

"Out, out, out! out, all of you!" cried the Marana, springing like
a tigress on the dagger, which she wrenched from the hand of the
astonished Perez. "Out, Perez," she continued more calmly, "out, you and
your wife and servants! There will be murder here. You might be shot by
the French. Have nothing to do with this; it is my affair, mine only.
Between my daughter and me there is none but God. As for the man, he
belongs to _me_. The whole earth could not tear him from my grasp. Go,
go! I forgive you. I see plainly that the girl is a Marana. You, your
religion, your virtue, were too weak to fight against my blood."

She gave a dreadful sigh, turning her dry eyes on them. She had lost
all, but she knew how to suffer,--a true courtesan.

The door opened. The Marana forgot all else, and Perez, making a sign to
his wife, remained at his post. With his old invincible Spanish honor he
was determined to share the vengeance of the bet