In the tumult that ensued everybody was standing in the well of the

judges' horse-shoe table. The deaf old woman, with her shawls slipping

off her shoulders, was wringing her hands and crying. "God will think of

this," she said. The Garibaldian was gazing vacantly out of his rheumy

eyes and saying nothing. Roma, who had recovered control of herself, was

looking at the letter, which she had picked up from the floor.

"Mr. President," she cried over the heads of the others, "this letter is

not in Mr. Rossi's handwriting. It is a forgery. I am ready to prove

it."

At that moment one of the Carabineers came back to tell the judges that

all was over.

"Gone!" said one after another, more often with a motion of the mouth

than with the voice.

The president was deeply agitated. "This court stands adjourned," he

said, "but I take the Almighty to witness that I intend to ascertain all

responsibility in this case and to bring it home to the guilty ones,

whosoever and whatsoever they may be."

XVIII

"MY DEAR DAVID ROSSI,--You will know all about it before this

letter reaches you. It is one of those scandals of the law that

are telegraphed to every part of the civilised world. Poor Bruno!

Yet no, not poor--great, glorious, heroic Bruno! He ended like an

old Roman, and killed himself rather than betray his friend. When

they played upon his jealousy, and tempted him by a forged

letter, he cried, 'Long live David Rossi!' and died. Oh, it was

wonderful. The memory of that moment will be with me always like

the protecting and strengthening hand of God. I never knew until

to-day what human nature is capable of. It is divine.

"But how mean and little I feel when I think of all I went through

in the court this morning! I was really undergoing the same

tortures as Bruno, the same doubt and the same agony. And even

when I saw through the whole miserable machination of lying and

duplicity I was actually in terror for Bruno lest he should betray

you in the end. Betray you! His voice when he uttered that last

cry rings in my ears still. It was a voice of triumph--triumph

over deception, over temptation, over jealousy, and over self.

"Don't think, David Rossi, that Bruno died of a broken heart, and

don't think he went out of the world believing that you were

false. I feel sure he came to that court with the full intention

of doing what he did. All through the trial there was something in

his bearing which left the impression of a purpose unrevealed.

Everybody felt it, and even the judges ceased to protest against

his outbursts. The poor prisoner in convict clothes, with

dishevelled hair and bare neck, made every one else look paltry

and small. Behind him was something mightier than himself. It was

Death. Then remember his last cry, and ask yourself what he meant

by it. He meant loyalty, love, faith, fidelity. He intended to

say, 'You've beaten me, but no matter; I believe in him, and

follow him to the last.' "As you see, I am here in your own quarters, but I keep in touch

with 'Sister Angelica,' and still have no answer to my letter. I

invent all manner of excuses to account for your silence. You are

busy, you are on a journey, you are waiting for the right moment

to reply to me at length. If I could only continue to think so,

how happy I should be! But I cannot deceive myself any longer.




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