The large parlor was filled with persons of different conditions and ages.  There were, however, only men present, for this evening was by a previous arrangement to be devoted to artists, men of letters, and notable men of commerce.

The first salutations had been exchanged among the guests of Mr. Van de Werve; they had separated according to their pleasure in different groups, and were engaged in cordial and familiar conversation.

Five or six of the more aged were seated near a table examining some new works which excited their admiration; others, whose more simple attire proclaimed them to be artists, were showing each other their designs; another party, evidently formed of young noblemen, surrounded Geronimo, and were asking particulars of the recent attempt upon his life.

At the end of the room, not far from the fireplace, were collected the foreigners who were engaged in commerce at Antwerp.  Although they had assembled for amusement, they were conversing, through habit, upon the expected arrival of vessels, and the price of gold and different kinds of merchandise.  Among these foreigners was to be seen every description of costume, and every variety of tongue could be heard.  The Spaniard found himself beside a native of Lucca, the Portuguese near the Florentine, the English with the Genoese, the German next to the Venetian; and, as on Change at Antwerp, they found means to understand each other.

Mr. Van de Werve had at first remained near the door in order to welcome his guests as they entered; but supposing that the greater part of those invited had arrived, he left this place and was walking from group to group, joining in conversation for a few moments, and saying some pleasant words to each.

The old Deodati had seated himself in an arm-chair apart.  So many had welcomed him on his arrival at Antwerp, and he had been the object of so much polite attention, that, being fatigued from standing and talking, he was now seeking some repose.

By his side was Simon Turchi, conversing familiarly and in a low tone with the old man.  The hypocrite feigned an extraordinary affection for the venerable nobleman, and flattered him by every expression of respect and esteem.  They had already spoken of the attempted assassination, and Simon Turchi had expressed his astonishment, for he did not believe that Geronimo had an enemy in the world.  It was quite likely that Bufferio had made a mistake as to the individual, a thing which might easily have happened in so dark a night.

While Simon Turchi, with apparent calmness, thus conversed with the old gentleman, he was evidently meditating some wicked design; for while talking, his eyes incessantly wandered to Geronimo, and he endeavored to divine from his countenance the subject of his conversation.  He did not for one instant lose sight of Mary’s betrothed.

After speaking of the assassination, the old Deodati glanced around the room upon the different groups of guests, and he asked Turchi: