This thing, too, which the Marchese Lamberto had announced his intention of doing, sinned against all those virtues which, let the professions of the moral code say what they may, stand really highest in an Italian estimation.  It was eminently unwise; it was imprudent; it was indecorous; it was calculated to produce scandal; it would bring disgrace upon a noble name; it was ridiculous; and, besides all this, it necessarily drove another to “desperation.”

“A fool!  An insane idiot!  Worst of all fools—­an old fool!  To think that a man, who had stood so many years in the eyes of all men as he had stood, should come to such a downfall.  It would serve him no more than right, if it were possible, that all the consequences of what had been done should fall on his own head.”

Still, during all the musings which seemed to force him to the conclusion that the crime which had been committed was the deed of the Marchese Ludovico, the old lawyer did not lose sight of the idea which had been suggested to his mind by that exclamation of Ludovico on the first sight of the murdered woman.  He did not, in truth, as yet think that it was worth much; but he kept it safe at the bottom of his mind, ready for being produced if subsequent circumstances should seem to give any value to it.

After musing an hour while these thoughts passed through his mind, the old lawyer thought he would go as far as the Palazzo del Governo to learn what steps had been taken, and whether—­though he had very little doubt on that point—­his unfortunate young friend had been detained in custody.

Signor Pietro Logarini, the head of the police, was an old acquaintance of Signor Fortini,—­as, indeed was pretty well everybody in any sort of position of authority in the city.

“A bad business this, Signor Pietro,” said Fortini, shaking his head.

“The worst business, Signor Giovacchino, that has happened in Ravenna as long as I can remember.  It is very terrible.”

“Is the poor young fellow—?” Signor Fortini completed his question by a movement of his eyes, of one shoulder, and one thumb, quite as intelligible to the person he addressed as any words would have been.

“Yes, of course.  There was no help for it, you know.”

“Of course not.  I suppose he came here as soon as he parted from me.  It so happened that we were together at the gate when the body was brought there,” said Signor Fortini.

“So I understand.  You will be called on for your evidence as to his manner on being confronted with it.”

“Of course; fortunately I have nothing to say on that point that can do any damage.  He was much moved, naturally; we both were; but nothing more than any man in his place would have been.”

“But the worst, the only fatal point in that confession of his, is that the girl told him of the Marchese Lamberto’s intention of marrying her.  Why in heaven’s name did he let that slip out?”