The question
is, whether this death was caused by any means which a woman--a
young girl--may be supposed to have used," said the lawyer.
"Ha! a case of jealousy, I suppose? You don't mean it. God knows, I
should be more glad than I will say if there were any means of
showing that the Marchese Ludovico had no hand in the matter. If it
were brought home to him it would kill my old friend the Marchese
Lamberto outright; I do believe it would kill him."
"I thought at first, to tell you the truth, Signor Professore, that
it must have been the Marchesino who did the deed; the circumstances
seemed so terribly strong against him. But--certain facts have come
to my knowledge--in short, I begin to have very great hopes that he
was in reality wholly innocent of it; and still greater hopes that
if we cannot succeed in bringing the crime home to any other party,
yet that the difficulty and doubt hanging about the case will be so
great that all conviction will be impossible."
"A woman, you tell me? A young woman, I suppose, from what you say?"
said the Professor, inquiringly.
"Yes; a young woman, and, as I am told, a very pretty one--a certain
young girl--a Venetian artist, of the name of Foscarelli--Paolina
Foscarelli, with whom it seems the Marchesino was foolish enough to
fall in love. Well, this girl sees the Marchese and Bianca driving
out alone together at that time in the morning to the Pineta--that
much we know--sees them cheek by jowl together in a little bagarino,
doing heaven only knows what--billing and cooing.
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