He dodged, and watched them, as they sat down together--as
they continued to talk in close confidence--till he saw her lay
herself down on the bank to sleep, and saw him after awhile quit her
side.
Then the devil entered into him, and ruled his hand with a whirlwind
power which he could no more withstand than the chaff can withstand
the tempest blast.
He came and stood over her as she lay on the turf--the beautiful,
noxious creature. She had destroyed him; body, soul, and mind, she
had destroyed him. And now--and now--ahi, ahi! After all he had
suffered, after paying all the price he had paid! Ah, how lovely as
she lay there sleeping--placidly sleeping, she! And he was to be
cheated! Her beauty, her love was to be given to another.
No, no, no, poisonous, baneful, sorceress; no, be what might, that
hell should never be!
He put his hand to the breast-pocket of his coat, and took from it a
small pocket-book.
If man will find evil passions, the devil will always find means.
Surely there must be some shadow of truth in the old legends that
tell how the fiend aids those who give themselves to him.
The Marchese had, on leaving his chamber, quickly changed the coat
he had worn at the ball for a morning one. And it so happened that
in that was a pocket-book which contained the articles needed for
the perpetration of the murder, placed there by him one day--in
times that seemed now ages ago--when he was going to ask some
explanation of the facts that had interested him from Professor
Tomosarchi.
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