To kill a priest, and then be as nervous and conscious as a boy in a scrape! The chiseller tried to laugh aloud in his old way, but the effort was ineffectual, and ended in a painful twisting of the lips, accompanied by a glance at the corner.

It would not do; he was weak, and was forced to submit to the humiliation of acknowledging the fact to himself.

With a bitter scorn of his incapacity, he began to wonder whether he could ever get so far as to kill Paolo in the first instance.

He foresaw that if he did kill him, he could never get rid of him afterwards.
Where do people go when they die?
The question rose suddenly in the mind of the unbeliever, and seemed to demand an answer.

He had answered often enough over a pint of wine at the inn, with Gaspare Carnesecchi the lawyer and the rest of his friends.Nowhere.That was the answer, clear enough.