He was again silent; he bit his lips in fury, raised one emaciated
hand to heaven, and struck his forehead violently with the other.

"An assassin, the slave of cowards and rascals, the ally of the
greatest villains that the Venetian sun ever shines upon, such is
now the great Rosalvo. Fie, ah, fie on't; and yet to this wretched
lot hath fatality condemned me."

Suddenly he sprang from the ground after a long silence; his eyes
sparkled, his countenance was changed; he drew his breath easier.

"Yes, by Heaven, yes. Great as Count Rosalvo, that can I be no
longer; but from being great as a Venetian bravo, what prevents me?
Souls in bliss," he exclaimed, and sank on his knee, while he raised
his folded hands to heaven, as if about to pronounce the most awful
oath, "Spirit of my father; spirit of Valeria, I will not become
unworthy of you. Hear me, if your ghosts are permitted to wander
near me, hear me swear that the bravo shall not disgrace the origin,
nor render vain the hopes which soothed you in the bitterness of
death. No, sure as I live, I will be the only dealer in this
miserable trade, and posterity shall be compelled to honour that
name, which my actions shall render illustrious."

He bowed his forehead till it touched the earth, and his tears
flowed plenteously. Vast conceptions swelled his soul; he dwelt on
wondrous views, till their extent bewildered his brain; yet another
hour elapsed, and he sprang from the earth to realise them.

"I will enter into no compact against human nature with five