And it was a matter of general
congratulation that the perpetrator of it should turn out to be no
Ravennata citizen, but an unknown stranger from Venice. It would
have been dreadful indeed if such a deed should have been brought
home to the door of a scion of the oldest and most distinguished
noble family in Ravenna. Of course everybody had all along known,
and had said from the beginning, that whatever might turn out to be
the truth, this at least was impossible and altogether out of the
question.
To many minds the guilt of the Venetian girl seemed so clear that it
appeared altogether superfluous to spend time and trouble in
bringing her to confess it. Her hatred of the victim she had
confessed; and the confession of it was in evidence. The motive for
that hatred was perfectly well known and understood. It was a motive
that many a time ere now had led to similar deeds. She was close at
hand when the crime must have been committed. She could give no
satisfactory account of her reasons for going thither, or of the
occupation of her time during the hours, which must have comprised
the moment of the assassination. And the manner of the murder
rendered it infinitely probable that it must have been the deed of a
female. What more could be wanted? It was rarely that a murder had
ever been brought home to the murderer by circumstantial evidence of
a more conclusive and irresistible character.
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