After having accompanied Deodati to his residence, Simon Turchi went to
his own dwelling near the bridge De la Vigne.

He was greatly excited, either by extreme anxiety or by a feverish
impatience; for he descended to the ground-floor, entered his office,
pretended to be looking for some papers, went up stairs again, paced the
room, opened the window, looked up and down the street, closed the window
petulantly, and at last, stamping his foot, he angrily exclaimed: "The miserable gamester! he is in some tavern drinking, gambling, amusing
himself, while I am here on burning coals, almost overpowered by anxiety
and terror! Julio, Julio, if I escape the fate which now threatens me, I
will have my revenge for your ingratitude!"

Again he went to the window, and again he was disappointed. Thoroughly
discouraged, he threw himself upon a chair, heaved a heavy sigh, and after
a moment's silence exclaimed in accents of despair: "Alas! alas! is it then true that my crime cannot remain concealed? Who
was it, to my great misfortune, who sent the Dominican brother just to the
spot to meet Geronimo, and thus furnished the bailiff with a clue to the
murder? Who put the Jewish banker on his track, so that the constables
might be led to my garden? Who suggested the idea to the bailiff to search
the cellars? Was it chance? But chance is blind, and does not proceed
with such precision to the fulfilment of a purpose. How frightful if God
himself conducted justice! if the Supreme Judge, who cannot be deceived,
has condemned me to an infamous death! How vain then all hope, all effort
to escape!"