"And I shall never, never see him again?"
"Never."
"And those visions will not be repeated?"
"No."
Valeria heaved another sigh of relief; a blissful smile again made its
appearance on her lips. She put out both hands to her husband.
"And we shall never speak of him, never, hearest thou, my dear one. And
I shall not leave this room until he is gone. But now do thou send me my
serving-women ... and stay: take that thing!"--she pointed to a pearl
necklace which lay on the night-stand, the necklace which Muzio had
given her,---"and throw it immediately into our deep well. Embrace me--I
am thy Valeria--and do not come to me until ... that man is gone."
Fabio took the necklace--its pearls seemed to have grown dim--and
fulfilled his wife's behest. Then he began to roam about the garden,
gazing from a distance at the pavilion, around which the bustle of
packing was already beginning. Men were carrying out chests, lading
horses ... but the Malay was not among them. An irresistible feeling
drew Fabio to gaze once more on what was going on in the pavilion. He
recalled the fact that in its rear façade there was a secret door
through which one might penetrate to the interior of the chamber where
Muzio had been lying that morning. He stole up to that door, found it
unlocked, and pushing aside the folds of a heavy curtain, darted in an
irresolute glance.