"The sleepers? Pshaw, let them sleep on, the stupid rogues. Sure
you are not afraid to be alone with me? Mercy on me, one would
think I looked as terrible as yourself? Do I? Nay, look on me,
Abellino."

Cinthia, to say the truth, was by no means an ill-looking girl; her
eyes were bright and expressive; the hair fell in shining ringlets
over her bosom; her lips were red and full, and she bowed them
towards Abellino's. But Abellino's were still sacred by the touch
of Rosabella's cheek. He started from his seat, and removed, yet
gently, Cinthia's hand, which rested on his shoulder.

"Wake the sleepers, my good girl," said he, "I must speak with them
this moment."

Cinthia hesitated.

"Nay, go," said he, in a fierce voice.

Cinthia retired in silence; yet as she crossed the threshold, she
stopped for an instant and menaced him with her finger.

Abellino strode through the chamber with hasty steps, his head
reclining on his shoulder, his arms folded over his breast.

"The first step is taken," said he to himself. "There is one moral
monster the less on earth. I have committed no sin by this murder;
I have but performed a sacred duty. Aid me, thou Great and Good,
for arduous is the task before me. Ah, should that task be gone