Then the lawyer put his hand on Ludovico’s shoulder in a manner that was strange, and that would at once have seemed so to the Marchese had he at the time had any attention to give to such a circumstance, and said in a peremptory and authoritative sort of voice, very unlike his usual manner when speaking to a person in the social position of the Marchese,

“Now, come with me, Signor Marchese.  Let us go.  We can do no more good here.”  And he put his arm within that of Ludovico, as if to lead him away, as he spoke.

The Marchese suffered the old man thus to lead him from the gate without speaking a word.

“Now, Signor Marchese,” said the lawyer, as soon as they had turned the corner of a street, which took them out of sight of the city gate, “now, lose no time.  Make for the Porta Adriana, and quit the city by that.  There is an osteria in the borgo outside the gate, where you can get a bagarino with a quick horse for Faenza; thence cross the mountains into Tuscany.  You may easily be over the frontier this night; you have plenty of time, only none to lose.  It will be at least two hours before any steps can be taken; you may be beyond Faenza by that time.  Have you money about you?  If not I can supply you.  I have a considerable sum about me—­One word more:  Do not venture to remain in Florence.  The grand Ducal Government would not refuse the demand of the Nuncio in such a case; and the demand would surely be made.  Better get on to Leghorn; and make for Marseilles.”

“Good God, Signor Fortini!  What are you talking of; and what are you dreaming of?  What is it that you have got into your head?” said Ludovico, rousing himself, and stopping short in his walk to turn round and face the lawyer.

“Look here, Signor Marchese, your father was my friend and patron; your grandfather was my father’s friend and patron; and, therefore, bad as this business is, I think, and will think, more of old times and old kindnesses than of what I suppose is my duty now.  But don’t lose time by trying to throw dust in my eyes.  What is the use of it?  What I have got in my head is what every man, woman and child in Ravenna will have in their head before this day is over.  Have you sufficient money about you?”

“Signor Fortini, once again I don’t know what you are driving at.  I insist upon your speaking out your entire meaning.  What is it you imagine?” said Ludovico, speaking angrily, but now very pale.

“Imagine!  What can I imagine?  The matter is, unhappily, but too clear.  Why of course I imagine that you have by some means,—­which the medical people will find out fast enough, doubt it not,—­killed that unfortunate woman in the Pineta.”

“Signor Fortini!” exclaimed Ludovico, in a voice in which horror, indignation and dismay had equal shares.