Orso looked through the letter, which gave a detailed relation of Tomaso’s confession, and Colomba read it over his shoulder.

When she had come to the end of it she exclaimed: 

“Orlanduccio Barricini went down to Bastia a month ago, when it became known that my brother was coming home.  He must have seen Tomaso, and bought this lie of him!”

“Signorina,” said the prefect, out of patience, “you explain everything by odious imputations!  Is that the way to find out the truth?  You, sir, can judge more coolly.  Tell me what you think of the business now?  Do you believe, like this young lady, that a man who has only a slight sentence to fear would deliberately charge himself with forgery, just to oblige a person he doesn’t know?”

Orso read the attorney-general’s letter again, weighing every word with the greatest care—­for now that he had seen the old lawyer, he felt it more difficult to convince himself than it would have been a few days previously.  At last he found himself obliged to admit that the explanation seemed to him to be satisfactory.  But Colomba cried out vehemently: 

“Tomaso Bianchi is a knave!  He’ll not be convicted, or he’ll escape from prison!  I am certain of it!”

The prefect shrugged his shoulders.

“I have laid the information I have received before you, monsieur.  I will now depart, and leave you to your own reflections.  I shall wait till your own reason has enlightened you, and I trust it may prove stronger than your sister’s suppositions.”

Orso, after saying a few words of excuse for Colomba, repeated that he now believed Tomaso to be the sole culprit.

The prefect had risen to take his leave.

“If it were not so late,” said he, “I would suggest your coming over with me to fetch Miss Nevil’s letter.  At the same time you might repeat to M. Barricini what you have just said to me, and the whole thing would be settled.”

“Orso della Rebbia will never set his foot inside the house of a Barricini!” exclaimed Colomba impetuously.

“This young lady appears to be the tintinajo[*] of the family!” remarked the prefect, with a touch of irony.

[*] This is the name given to the ram or he-goat which wears a bell and leads the flock, and it is applied, metaphorically, to any member of a family who guides it in all important matters.

“Monsieur,” replied Colomba resolutely, “you are deceived.  You do not know the lawyer.  He is the most cunning and knavish of men.  I beseech you not to make Orso do a thing that would overwhelm him with dishonour!”

“Colomba!” exclaimed Orso, “your passion has driven you out of your senses!”

“Orso!  Orso!  By the casket I gave you, I beseech you to listen to me!  There is blood between you and the Barricini.  You shall not go into their house!”

“Sister!”

“No, brother, you shall not go!  Or I will leave this house, and you will never see me again!  Have pity on me, Orso!” and she fell on her knees.