oped that some chance stroke of
fate might avenge him on others, the terrible fact remained--he had
known, he had been able to stay Destiny on the march, but had allowed it
to go onward and blindly accomplish its work of death.

Turning his head Pierre perceived Don Vigilio still seated on the corner
chair whence he had not stirred, and looking so pale and haggard that
perhaps he also had swallowed some of the poison. "Do you feel unwell?"
the young priest asked.

At first the secretary could not reply, for terror had gripped him at the
throat. Then in a low voice he said: "No, no, I didn't eat any. Ah,
Heaven, when I think that I so much wanted to taste them, and that merely
deference kept me back on seeing that his Eminence did not take any!" Don
Vigilio's whole body shivered at the thought that his humility alone had
saved him; and on his face and his hands there remained the icy chill of
death which had fallen so near and grazed him as it passed.

Then twice he heaved a sigh, and with a gesture of affright sought to
brush the horrid thing away while murmuring: "Ah! Paparelli, Paparelli!"

Pierre, deeply stirred, and knowing what he thought of the train-bearer,
tried to extract some information from him: "What do you mean?" he asked.
"Do you accuse him too? Do you think they urged him on, and that it was
they at bottom?"

The word Jesuits was not even spoken, but a big black shadow passed
athwart the gay sunlight of the dining-room, and for a moment seemed to
fill it with darkness. "They! ah yes!" exclaimed Don Vigilio, "they are
everywhere; it is always they! As soon as one weeps, as soon as one dies,
they are mixed up in it. And this is intended for me too; I am quite
surprised that I haven't been carried off." Then again he raised a dull
moan of fear, hatred, and anger: "Ah! Paparelli, Paparelli!" And he
refused to reply any further, but darted scared glances at the walls as
if from one or another of them he expected to see the train-bearer
emerge, with his wrinkled flabby face like that of an old maid, his
furtive mouse-like trot, and his mysterious, invading hands which had
gone expressly to bring the forgotten figs from the pantry and deposit
them on the table.

At last the two priests decided to return to the bedroom, where perhaps
they might be required; and Pierre on entering was overcome by the
heart-rending scene which the chamber now presented. Doctor Giordano,
suspecting poison, had for half an hou