He had hardly reached it, when the door of the room opened, and his master appeared.
Disfigured as Simon Turchi's countenance had been by the thirst for revenge, crime made it still more frightful.

The signor could hardly have been recognized.

His hair stood upright; his eyes rolled in their sockets; a hard, hoarse sound escaped his lips; blood dripped from his hands.
He ran by his servant without speaking to him, ascended the staircase, and having reached his room he threw himself panting upon a chair.
Julio, who had followed him, placed himself before him, and asked: "Well, signor, is the deed accomplished ?" "It is; let me take breath," said Turchi, breathing heavily.
After waiting a few moments, Julio resumed: "Did he offer any resistance, that you are so fatigued, signor ?" "Resistance?
No; but when I attempted the first time to pierce him to the heart, the blade of my dagger struck against metal, and grated harshly.

He wears a breastplate, Julio.

Could he have suspected my intentions ?" Turchi's dagger had evidently struck the amulet which the young man always wore around his neck.
"Possibly," replied Julio, "Geronimo may wear some guard on his breast; it is the place against which a poignard is always aimed, and no one is secure in the darkness of night from the assault of an enemy or an assassin; but what is there in this circumstance to move you so deeply ?" "So much blood spouted from the wound.