“Not in the forest,” replied the friar without any difficulty.  “Not in the forest; I saw another young woman here yesterday, but it was in the church.  She came here to make copies of some of the mosaics.  I had been previously told to expect such an one.”

“Did she come to the church before the time when you saw the other lady pass towards the forest?” asked the lawyer.

“Yes; about half an hour or more before,” answered the friar.

“And where was she when the second lady passed, going towards the Pineta?” asked the lawyer again.

“She was on the scaffolding in the church, which had been prepared for her to make her copies of the mosaics.”

“Do you know whether she saw, or was aware that the second lady had passed the church to go towards the Pineta?”

“I know that she was aware of it; I was with her on the scaffolding.  We both together saw the woman who was afterwards brought back dead pass in a bagarino with the Marchese Ludovico di Castelmare, towards the Pineta.”

The lawyer looked hard at the Commissary; and the latter in obedience, as it seemed, to the look, took out his note-book again, and made a note of the declaration.

“And what did the young lady who came to copy the mosaics do afterwards?  Where did you part with her?” resumed the lawyer.

“She left the church, and walked in the direction of the forest.  I parted from her at the door of the church.”

“And did you see her any more in the course of that morning?” asked the lawyer again.

“I did not:  I saw her no more from that time to this,” replied the friar.  During the whole of this interrogation, he had appeared far less distressed and disturbed than he had been before speaking of his having seen the body of La Bianca carried past the church towards the city.  He had answered all the questions concerning Paolina readily and without hesitation.

“I don’t think we need trouble you any further, frate,” said the Commissary.  “I hope that you will soon get over your touch of fever; and then, if we need you, there will be no difficulty in your attending, when wanted, in the city.  I don’t see, that there is anything more to be got at present,” he added, addressing the lawyer.

So the two visitors bade the friar adieu, and went down the stairs on to the open piazza in front of the church.

“Does that fellow know anything more than he tells us?” said the Commissary, as they stepped out of the narrow entry on to the green sward of the piazza.

“I fancy not; I don’t see much what he is at all likely to know,” replied the lawyer.

“Nor I; but his manner was so remarkable.  One would have said that he was conscious of having committed the murder himself.  In all my experience I never saw a man so hard put to it to tell a plain and simple fact.”

“Well, the poor old fellow is ill, you see.  And then, no doubt, the sight of the body brought back out of the forest made a terrible impression on him.  The extreme seclusion, tranquillity, and monotony of his life here, the absence from year’s end to year’s end of any sort of emotion of any kind, would naturally have the result of increasing the painful effect which such an event and such a sight would have upon him.  My own notion is that there is nothing further to be got out of him.”