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S he spoke there came up from the town the roar of a brawling mob. Some were killed that night. . . . All night the sound came to me. The men of Mazzaleone herded home the fighting factions as day broke. By the next day the fire of revenge I had seen start in a ballroom had spread itself through the smallest quarters of the town. Each man saw how he might be revenged upon his enemy. There were few in Moglio who might not profit by the death of some one.

Changed was the temper of the town. They had been wallowing in life. Now from one day to another they were wallowing in the thought of death. Eye met eye questioningly, for each man hugged to his bosom the thought of old scores long due. In this temper they continued their rejoicing, and that pallid specter, assassination, rejoiced with them; and with assassination and revenge smirked along the love of gain, asking:

"If you must kill your man, why not kill him whose death will be most to your advantage?"