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" "More blood! more blood!" cried Trenchard, passing his hand with agony across his brow. His bravado waxed and he asked her to what would be her first date in nearly twenty years. “Won’t you give me your address?” She shook her head. Uttering a terrible imprecation, Jonathan snatched up the link, and hastily descended the stairs, leaving the Jew behind him. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. The gentleman catched him i' th' fact, and we shut him up for safety i' that pris'n.

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