His face was very pale, but the scar which furrowed his cheek was of a more ashy hue.

He did not tremble, but he walked precipitately, and he clasped his hands convulsively, like a man whose impatience can brook no delay.
He noticed that his servant was in deep thought, his head bowed upon his chest, and it was only on his near approach that Julio suddenly roused from his preoccupation.

He entered the room and said: "Julio, the hour is nigh.

Of what are you thinking?
Are you afraid ?" "Afraid ?" replied Julio, with a light laugh; "why should _I_ be afraid ?" "True, true," murmured Simon, "since I alone shall shed his blood." "But," continued Julio, "if I have no cause for personal fear, would not love for my master fill me with painful thoughts?
Signor, you are playing for dangerous stakes." "Who will know what has taken place here ?" "Who?
Is there not an eye above which sees all?
And whilst here, in the deepest secrecy, you immolate a human being to your thirst for vengeance, will not God hear the cry of agony of the Signor Geronimo ?" Julio saw, with a secret joy, that his words made his master tremble, although he tried to dissemble his feelings under an assumed insensibility.
"What a good joke!" replied Simon; "Pietro Mostajo talking of God! My precautions are too well taken; when the cellar will be the depository of the secret, there will be none to tell it." "Do you think so, signor?
When has such a murder ever remained concealed?
It is not surprising that I bowed my head in thought.

In imagination I saw such terrible things that I dare not tell them to you.