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.