"And to think
that at the very time,--at the hour when I was communicating to you
the decision I had arrived at with regard to--to that unfortunate--
to poor Bianca, she was even then, as it would seem, lying dead in
the forest. It is very, very terrible."
"And I told the Signor Conte that he could not do better than
contradict such a report wherever he heard it," added the lawyer,
who began almost to fancy, from a something that seemed strange to
him in the Marchese's manner, that the catastrophe which had come to
relieve him in such a terrible manner from the scrape he had got
himself into with the singer, was not altogether unwelcome to him.
"It is of no use, Fortini," returned the Marchese, with a groan; "it
is of no use. That old man, her reputed father, knows it; their
servant knows it; Ludovico knows it: and, of course, his knowledge
of it will have to be made public."
"Nevertheless, the denial of it by such a tongue as that of the
Conte Leandro Lombardoni can do no harm in the meantime," said the
lawyer, quietly. "It may be," he added, "it may be that something
may turn up to prevent any public accusation of the Marchese. It may
be that he is not guilty. It may be that the deed may yet be brought
home to some other hand."
"Do you think that, Fortini? do you think that likely?" said the
Marchese, with a quickly withdrawn anxious look into the lawyer's
face.
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