Better get on to Leghorn; and make for
Marseilles."
"Good God, Signor Fortini! What are you talking of; and what are you
dreaming of? What is it that you have got into your head?" said
Ludovico, rousing himself, and stopping short in his walk to turn
round and face the lawyer.
"Look here, Signor Marchese, your father was my friend and patron;
your grandfather was my father's friend and patron; and, therefore,
bad as this business is, I think, and will think, more of old times
and old kindnesses than of what I suppose is my duty now. But don't
lose time by trying to throw dust in my eyes. What is the use of it?
What I have got in my head is what every man, woman and child in
Ravenna will have in their head before this day is over. Have you
sufficient money about you?"
"Signor Fortini, once again I don't know what you are driving at. I
insist upon your speaking out your entire meaning. What is it you
imagine?" said Ludovico, speaking angrily, but now very pale.
"Imagine! What can I imagine? The matter is, unhappily, but too
clear. Why of course I imagine that you have by some means,--which
the medical people will find out fast enough, doubt it not,--killed
that unfortunate woman in the Pineta."
"Signor Fortini!" exclaimed Ludovico, in a voice in which horror,
indignation and dismay had equal shares.
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