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Sabatini, Rafael, 1875-1950

"The Strolling Saint; being the confessions of the high and mighty Agostino D'Anguissola, tyrant of Mondolfo and Lord of Carmina in the state of Piacenza"

Three hundred ducats! Ha! ha! Three hundred thousand million
years in Hell! That is the price, my lord--the price that you shall pay,
for I present the reckoning and enforce it. You shall be shriven in iron--
you and your wanton after you.
"Shall I be caged for having shed a prelate's sacred blood? for having sent
a prelate's soul to Hell with all its filth of sin upon it? Shall I?
Speak, magnificent; out of the fullness of your theological knowledge
inform me."
I had listened in a sort of fascination to that tirade of venomous mockery.
But now I stirred, and pulled the casement open. I peered down into the
darkness and hesitated. The wall was creeper-clad to the window's height;
but I feared the frail tendrils of the clematis would never bear me. I
hesitated. Then I resolved to jump. It was but little more than some
twelve feet to the ground, and that was nothing to daunt an active lad of
my own build, with the soft turf to land upon below. It should have been
done without hesitation; for that moment's hesitation was my ruin.
Fifanti had heard the opening of the casement, and fearing that, after all,
his prey might yet escape him, he suddenly charged the door like an
infuriated bull, and borrowing from his rage a strength far greater than
his usual he burst away the fastenings of that crazy door.


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