Chapter VII

At the Hotel Savoia

Prince Carlo Cassatti finished checking meticulously his evening outfit. He looked at himself in the mirror and ascertain that not a single speck of dust dishonoured the soft shine of his suit. His tie was beyond reproach, his collar shone, his varnished shoes were creaking moderately and in his thin and slightly turned up moustache, not a single hair compromised the alignment.

He whispered to himself:

- I'm fine!

He rang the valet:

- My cloak!

The valet gave it to him.

- No, I won't take it immediately, put it on the chair and go away!... Did you take the tickets I asked for tonight?

The valet gave him the tickets.

- Good.

He talked briefly with a certain dryness to the personnel. He was obviously accustomed to command, and to command in an authoritarian fashion, as if he had been in the past an officer or a figure in front of which everybody must submit. The servant bowed deeply, deeper than what he usually did in front of ordinary customers of the hotel; he left the room while taking great care to close the door noiselessly.

Count Cassatti was alone. He looked at his watch and read 8.30 pm.

- I got dressed too early, said he.

He was annoyed by this error of judgement, as if he had committed a mistake to be avoided. His apartment at the Hotel Savoia was a two-room suite with an anteroom. He was standing in the room used as a living room. A vast room furnished like in most luxury hotels. He found there all the showy luxury he seemed to need. He moved towards the bedroom. On the doorstep, he stopped and listened in wait. He had heard a slight noise near the window, masked by some high and heavy curtains.

The bedroom was in the dark. The count didn't switch on the light and stayed where he was, his face turned towards the curtains closing the open window so that the sea breeze didn't cool down too much the room where he would sleep.

Because these windows led directly unto the Mediterranean and when he went on his balcony, he could see, hundred meters down, the waves beating tumultuously a foaming abyss and the currents swirling in an unrelenting and permanent anger. The noise, no matter how light, continued. It was like a brushing against the iron balcony. Then, there was a precise impact on the window and finally the noise of two feet when they hit the floor and their proprietor wants to stay unnoticed.

The Count moved back and quickly went to the anteroom to take his cane. He was brave, we have to admit it. He never thought to escape this unknown danger that came to threaten him in his own room. Completely noiselessly, he came back to his observation's post and noticed that during his short absence, things had changed. A man was now in front of the window, standing in front of the curtains, motionless as if he was looking for some bearing. He appeared, of course, only like a vague figure in the dark. But, the Count holding tightly his cane in his hand, switched on the light.

The man was startled but didn't move. His eyes moved towards the occupant of the room who was watching him. It was a young man with long black hair, glowing eyes, with a passionate expression. He wore some trousers without braces and his shirt open on his bare chest. In his hand: a revolver.

He stared at the Count and he certainly recognised him as there was suddenly an indescribable expression of hatred in his eyes.

- I was looking for you, he whispered in a low and threatening voice.

The Count didn't loose his composure. He seemed perfectly at ease as if this intruder was an expected guest. He moved confidently towards him and told him harshly:

- Can you leave this room so that I can get you arrested by the hotel people?

His tone was so quiet and at the same time so authoritative that it looked as if he was sure the man couldn't refuse to obey him. But the untimely visitor wasn't the kind of person that can intimidated by a glance or any authority. He also moved in the room, a nasty look on his eyes, clenched teeth, and his head bent towards his shoulders while his forward forehead made him look like a wild animal ready to jump. He growled between his teeth:

- Scoundrel! Do you not guess why I came here?

The count replied ironically:

- Not in the slightest, I do not remember inviting you.

From his place, with an even more menacing gesture, the young man said:

- I came to avenge my sister.

The Count's smile became larger.

- You don't say! Said he.

Then becoming serious again as if all that was mere idle chatter in this occasion, he added:

- Go out at once! The police will know what to do with you.

At this moment when a brief silence occurred between the two adversaries of which on seemed to be in the grip of vengeful madness and the other, on the contrary very sure of himself, there was a few knocks on the landing door, one or two timid knocks but were enough to disturb the young man unlike the Count, because he understood somebody would come in and prevent him from accomplishing his revenge. Though the Count didn't hurry to the door. He was still looking at his adversary and he seemed to recognise him because he said:

- I do recognise you now. Are you Manuelita's brother?

The other one had a suppressed gesture of anger.

- At last! And do you know why I'm coming?

-Not the slightest idea.

- You seduced my sister and she killed herself when you got rid of her.

Three more knocks on the door, a bit louder than the first time.

- Let's get it over with, said the Count while stiffing a yawn, throw away that gun and give yourself up. Don't you see that you are spoiling my evening?

Instead of obeying, the young man raised his gun and was going to pull the trigger when a swift blow on his wrist released the gun. Count Cassatti was just waiting for this moment to act. Audacious and sure of himself, quick minded, he jumped sideways and then stroke with all his might with his cane –and it was a very heavy one- he had broken neatly the young man's wrist.

This one staggered, his arms forward looking for any point of support. Then the count, taking advantage, stroke him violently on the skull. The young man fell senseless. It was so fast he didn't have the time to scream. While falling down, he caught one of the sofas, his feet were trapped in the carpet between his heels, he tried to get up but with a long sigh as if all his life was leaving him, he lied down and stopped moving. The Count shrugged and didn't even check if the man was dead. He was so sure of his own strength. Carefully, he closed the bedroom door after switching off the light, put his cane on the living room table, taking care that it didn't roll down, pull his cuff a bit and while there was again three discreet knocks at the door, he went quietly to open.