It might be that I had killed Fifanti.

It might be.

And slowly, gradually I grew cold with the thought and the apprehension of its horrid meaning.
Then from the passage came a stifled scream, and Giuliana staggered forward, one hand holding flimsy draperies to her heaving bosom, the other at her mouth, which had grown hideously loose and uncontrolled.
Her glowing copper hair, all unbound, fell about her shoulders like a mantle.
Behind her with ashen face and trembling limbs came old Busio.

He was groaning and ringing his hands.

Thus I saw the pair of them creep forward to approach Fifanti, who had made no sound since my sword had gone through him.
But Fifanti was no longer there to heed them--the faithful servant and the unfaithful wife.