Yes, the window of the bedroom was open from top to bottom, and putting one foot over the sill, Valeria stood in the window ... her hands seemed to be seeking Muzzio ... she seemed striving all over towards him....
Unutterable fury filled Fabio's breast with a sudden inrush. 'Accursed sorcerer!' he shrieked furiously, and seizing Muzzio by the throat with one hand, with the other he felt for the dagger in his girdle, and plunged the blade into his side up to the hilt.
Muzzio uttered a shrill scream, and clapping his hand to the wound, ran staggering back to the pavilion.... But at the very same instant when Fabio stabbed him, Valeria screamed just as shrilly, and fell to the earth like grass before the scythe.
Fabio flew to her, raised her up, carried her to the bed, began to speak to her....
She lay a long time motionless, but at last she opened her eyes, heaved a deep, broken, blissful sigh, like one just rescued from imminent death, saw her husband, and twining her arms about his neck, crept close to him. 'You, you, it is you,' she faltered. Gradually her hands loosened their hold, her head sank back, and murmuring with a blissful smile, 'Thank God, it is all over.... But how weary I am!' she fell into a sound but not heavy sleep.
Fabio sank down beside her bed, and never taking his eyes off her pale and sunken, but already calmer, face, began reflecting on what had happened ... and also on how he ought to act now. What steps was he to take? If he had killed Muzzio--and remembering how deeply the dagger had gone in, he could have no doubt of it--it could not be hidden. He would have to bring it to the knowledge of the archduke, of the judges ... but how explain, how describe such an incomprehensible affair? He, Fabio, had killed in his own house his own kinsman, his dearest friend? They will inquire, What for? on what ground?... But if Muzzio were not dead? Fabio could not endure to remain longer in uncertainty, and satisfying himself that Valeria was asleep, he cautiously got up from his chair, went out of the house, and made his way to the pavilion. Everything was still in it; only in one window a light was visible. With a sinking heart he opened the outer door (there was still the print of blood-stained fingers on it, and there were black drops of gore on the sand of the path), passed through the first dark room ... and stood still on the threshold, overwhelmed with amazement.