"
"Thanks, my Paolina--thanks, my own darling. At least there is one
heart that knows me. And, my Paolina, it is an immense comfort to
me--not that I doubted it for an instant--but it is an infinite
comfort to me to know that you, at least in your heart of hearts,
are certain that I did not--that it never could have entered into my
mind to do this thing."
"I believe it! I could just as soon imagine that I myself had done
it. But, Ludovico, my beloved, it will not be believed; it is too
monstrous. You are known here; it cannot be believed."
"And yet, my Paolina, one who has known me all my life, who was my
father's friend--one who knows me well, and who looks at things as
the magistrates will look at them--he believes it; believes it so
much, and is so certain that others will believe it, that he
strongly urged me to escape from the city, and from the country.
That, Paolina, knowing my innocence, I would not do. To save myself
from the stake I would not have gone away without telling you, my
own one, that I had not done this deed. I could not go, and so leave
you--"
"My own--my own! How I love you, my Ludovico, now in the time of
this great trouble better than ever I did before. There was no need
to tell me, my love, that your hands are innocent of murder. But
surely--surely you did well not to fly, leaving the hideous
accusation behind you.
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