I needed a little breathing time--a rest in which to think, though my thoughts, like a new solar system, revolved round the red planet of one central idea, VENGEANCE.

"A false woman deserves death." Even this simple Sicilian mariner said so.

"Go and kill her, go and kill her!" These words reiterated themselves over and over again in my ears, till I found myself almost uttering them aloud.

My soul sickened at the contemplation of the woman Teresa--the mistress of a wretched brigand whose name was fraught with horror--whose looks were terrific--she, even SHE could keep herself sacred from the profaning touch of other men's caresses--she was proud of being faithful to her wolf of the mountains, whose temper was uncertain and treacherous--she could make lawful boast of her fidelity to her blood-stained lover--while Nina--the wedded wife of a noble whose descent was lofty and unsullied, could tear off the fair crown of honorable marriage and cast it in the dust--could take the dignity of an ancient family and trample upon it--could make herself so low and vile that even this common Teresa, knowing all, might and most probably would, refuse to touch her hand, considering it polluted.

Just God! what had Carmelo Neri done to deserve the priceless jewel of a true woman's heart?
what had I done to merit such foul deception as that which I was now called upon to avenge?
Suddenly I thought of my child.
Her memory came upon me like a ray of light--I had almost forgotten her.