“Your people told me, just now, that you had refused to see the Conte Leandro, when he called,” remarked the lawyer, again looking puzzled.

“Yes, I refused to see him because my mind was full of the conversation we had this morning.  You know I promised you, Signor Fortini, that I would think over the matter again; and I was engaged in doing so.  I have been thinking of it all day; I was thinking of it still when you came in.”

“Thinking still of your purpose of making the woman, La Bianca, your wife.  Then you could not have heard of her miserable end when I came in,—­as I supposed, indeed, you could not have heard,” remarked the lawyer.

“Heard of it?  Why of course not.  That is clear—­that proves that I could not have heard of it, you know,” said the Marchese, with a strange sort of eagerness.

“When was it, then, that you heard from the Conte Leandro, that the Marchese Ludovico was in the Pineta with La Bianca?” asked the lawyer.

“At the ball,” replied the Marchese, after a minute’s thought, “at the ball.  He came to me and told me that they had planned an excursion to the forest, as soon as they left the ball-room.  The Conte Leandro told me of it, because, he said, he thought it an imprudent thing, and I should disapprove it.  But why should I, you know?  I said nothing to either of them about it.  Why not let them have such an innocent enjoyment?  Young people must be young, you know, Signor Fortini.  For my part, I preferred making the best of my way to my bed, after being up all night.”  There was a strange kind of nervous eagerness and hurry in the Marchese’s manner of saying this, which struck the lawyer as affording yet further evidence of the degree to which his mind had been utterly unhinged by the struggle which had been going on in it, doubtless for a longer time than he, the lawyer, was aware of, between the influence over him which the singer had acquired, and his sense of the terrible nature of the step she was inducing him to take.  It seemed necessary to recall his attention to that view of the matter which was now of the most urgent interest, the suspicions which rested on the Marchese Ludovico.

“As you say, Signor Marchese,” he resumed, “that Signor Ludovico should have been with La Bianca in the forest, affords no proof sufficient to convict him of being the author of this crime; although the fact of his being the last person in whose company she was ever seen alive, does suffice, in a certain degree, to throw on him the onus of showing that he is innocent of it.  But the worst is--the damning feature of the matter is, that he had a very strong and intelligible reason for wishing this Bianca out of the way.  Remember that your marriage with her would have the effect of reducing him to beggary.  Put that fact side by side with the facts that he takes her to a solitary place in the Pineta, and that she is shortly afterwards found there murdered; and I am afraid—­I am dreadfully afraid that the judges will not resist the conclusion that, in truth, seems forced upon them.  It is a bad business, Signor Marchese; a very bad and ugly business.”