Once in the
street, he never paused till he reached the corner of a dark
projecting wall over-looking the Tiber, and here, glancing nervously
round lest he should be observed, he flung his murderer's dagger and
the key of the studio both into the water. Again he paused and
listened--looking up at the frowning windows of the Palazzo Sovrani
which could be dimly seen from where he stood. He had not meant to
kill Angela. Oh no! He had come to the studio, full of love,
prepared to chide her tenderly for the faults in her work,--till he
saw that it was faultless; to make a jest of her ambition,--till he
realized her triumph! And then,--then the devil had seized him--
then--! A scarlet slit in the western horizon showed where the sun
had sunk,--a soft and beautiful after-glow trembled over the sky in
token of its farewell. A boy came strolling lazily down the street
eating a slice of melon, and paused to fling the rind over the wall.
The innocent, unconscious glance of the stripling's eyes was
sufficient to set up a cowardly trembling in his body,--and turning
round abruptly so that even this stray youth might not observe him
too closely, he hurried away. And the boy, never regarding him at
all, strolled on with the mellow taste of the fruit he had just
enjoyed in his mouth, and presently, as if inspired thereby, awoke
the slumbering echoes of the street with his high, fluting young
treble, singing, "Che faro senza Eurydice!"
XXX.
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