the roof.
He was
cold and
calm.The
life of
Montefiore
was in his
hands;he
would wash
away his
remorse in
the blood
of that
Italian.
"Out,out,out!out,all
of
you!"cried
the
Marana,springing
like a
tigress on
the
dagger,which
she
wrenched
from the
hand of
the
astonished
Perez."Out,Perez,"she
continued
more
calmly,"out,you
and your
wife and
servants!There
will be
murder
here.You
might be
shot by
the
French.Have
nothing to
do with
this;it is
my
affair,mine
only.Between
my
