The Marchese seemed struck by this statement, and remained in silent thought for a few minutes.  “Paolina,” he said, at length, “had motives of hatred against the woman who has been killed, the friar had motives for feeling strong interest in Paolina.  Why may it not be conceivable that he may have adopted her cause to the extent of committing a crime with the view of righting what may have seemed to him to be her wrongs?  The explanation may seem a not very probable one; but no possible or conceivable explanation of the terrible fact is a probable one, and, certainly, it is more likely that the old friar should have done the deed than the young girl.”

“Humph!” said the lawyer, after spending some minutes of deep thought on the idea the Marchese had put forward; “I am not quite so sure that it is more likely.  However, the theory is a plausible one, and deserves attention.  Depend upon it, we shall not lose sight of the old gentleman, let him shiver and shake as much as he may; and now, Signor Marchese, I must go to your uncle,” said the lawyer, rising.

“How does he bear up under all this misery?”

“Not well, not well.  I cannot say that it has fared well with him during these days; but I have some comfort in store for him.  I think I may venture to assure him that there is no need to imagine that his name has been disgraced by the commission of a crime, or that there is any danger that such should continue to be believed to be the case, either by the magistrates or by anybody else.  You will come out of this dreadful business scatheless, Signor Marchese, I thank God for it?”

“I will not come out scatheless at the cost of Paolina’s condemnation,” said the Marchese, doggedly.

“But the Marchese Lamberto, you see,” continued the lawyer, without taking any notice of his companion’s interruption,—­“the Marchese Lamberto has been hit from more sides than one.  The most unfortunate and lamentable fascination that this woman seems to have exercised over him—­the deplorable fact that he should have proposed marriage to her, and that this fact should be universally known,—­it is impossible that he should not have suffered, and still suffer terribly.  Honestly, I cannot say that I think he will ever altogether get over it—­he will never be the same man again.  Would to God that fatal woman had never come near Ravenna!”

“Many thanks for your visit, Signor Fortini, and for all the kindness you have shown me since this sad misfortune befell.  Tell my uncle how much I have felt and feel for him.  Addio, Signor Fortini.  If anything new should turn up you will not fail to let me know it?  Think of what I said about the friar; and mind, once more, and once for all, I will not come scatheless, as you say, out of this business and leave Paolina to be held guilty.”

“Addio, Signor Marchese.”

CHAPTER IV

What Ravenna thought of it