"Yes; I was with the girl--Paolina Foscarelli, a Venetian--on the
scaffolding. Was it yesterday?"
"Yesterday it was that she was here. Yesterday morning. And it is
hardly necessary to ask you if you know what happened here in the
Pineta much about that time, or shortly afterwards. You have heard
of the murder, of course?"
So violent a trembling seized on the aged man as the lawyer spoke
thus, that he was unable to answer a word. His old hands shook so
that he could hardly hold the beads in his fingers, while his
chattering teeth and trembling lips tried to formulate the words of
a prayer.
"Did you, or did you not hear that a dreadful murder was committed
yesterday morning in the Pineta not far from this place?" said the
Commissary, speaking for the first time, and in a less kindly manner
than the old lawyer had used.
A redoubled access of teeth-chattering and shivering was for some
time the only result elicited by this question. The old friar shook
in every limb; and the beads of the rosary rattled in his trembling
fingers, as he attempted to pass them on their string in
mechanically habitual accompaniment to the invocations his lips
essayed to mutter.
"It is a terrible thing to speak of truly, father; and we are sorry
to be obliged to distress you by forcing such a subject on your
thoughts; but it is our duty to make these inquiries; and you can
tell us the few facts--they cannot be many or of much importance--
which have come to your knowledge on the subject," said the lawyer,
speaking in more gentle accents.
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