"Mary is naturally very susceptible, Signor Geronimo," said Mr. Van de
Werve. "I was speaking to her of her beloved mother, and she wept. You
appear, and she smiles as though she knew no sorrow."
The young girl did not await the conclusion of this explanation; before
her father had finished speaking, she led her lover to the window, pointed
to the weathercock, and said: "Look, Geronimo, the wind is from the west."
"I noticed it last night," replied the young man, with an involuntary
sigh.
"Rejoice then, for to-day your uncle may be in sight of the city."
"I do not think so; however, it is possible," said the young man, sadly.
"How coldly you speak, Geronimo!" exclaimed the young girl, in surprise;
"what cloud obscures your soul?"
"I myself notice something extraordinary in your manner, signor," remarked
the father. "You seem dejected; have you received bad news of your uncle?"
Geronimo hesitated for an answer; then, as though endeavoring to drive
away unpleasant thoughts, he said, in a faltering voice: "No, no, it is
not that. I witnessed just now near the Dominican Convent something which
touched me deeply, and I have not yet recovered from the shock. Have you
not heard of a Florentine merchant named Massimo Barberi?"
"Is he noble?" asked Mary. "I do not remember him."
"No, a commoner, but a man highly esteemed."
"I know him well," said Mr. Van de Werve. "I met him lately in company
with Lopez de Galle, for whom he had attended to some financial affairs.
What have you to tell us concerning him?"
"Something terrible, Mr. Van de Werve. I saw the corpse of poor Barberi
taken out of a sewer; he had two dagger-wounds in his throat. He was
undoubtedly attacked and slain last night."
"It is had to see so many murders committed in Antwerp," said Mr. Van de
Werve. "This is the fourth during the past month. The victims each time
have been either Spaniards or Italians, and that vengeance or jealousy was
the cause is sufficiently proved by the fact that in no case have the
bodies been despoiled of their money or jewels. This custom of lying in
wait, attacking and killing each other, often without cause, is an outrage
both against God and man. And do you not yourself sometimes fear, Signor
Geronimo, the assassin's dagger?"
The young man shook his head.
"For instance," continued Mary's father, "this is the eve of May, I need
not ask if you intend to offer to Mary the homage of a serenade. It is the
custom of your countrymen to pay this attention to young girls, and you
would not omit this opportunity were it not for the advice of a man of
experience. Geronimo, listen to the words of calm reason: do not rashly
expose yourself to the danger of death; abandon your design this time.
Many of your compatriots have aspired to Mary's hand; they have been less
successful than you, and on this account they may harbor unkind feelings
towards you."