CHAPTER XII
The Case against Paolina
The old friar opened his haggard eyes, which gleamed out with a feverishlight from the bottom of their sockets, and from under the shadow of hiscowl, and looked piteously up into the lawyer's face. "A little time--amoment to collect my thoughts," he said, passing his parched tongue overthe still dryer parchment-like skin of his drawn lips, and painfullyswaying his cowled head from one side of the hard pillow to the other,while large drops of perspiration gathered on his brow.
The Commissary shot a meaning glance across the pallet on which the oldman lay, to the lawyer, in evident anticipation of the importance of therevelation, heralded by so much of painful emotion.
"By all means, padre mio; collect your thoughts. We are sorry for thenecessity which obliges us to force your mind back on such painfulones," said the lawyer, laying his hand on that of the friar, which wasstill fumbling with the shining bog-wood beads, scarcely more yellowthan the claw-like fingers which held them. "You saw--?"
Still no reply came from the old friar's lips. He writhed his body inthe bed, and the manifestation of his agony became more and moreintense. The eager impatient air of the Commissary changed itself intoone of persistent dogged determination; and he quietly drew from hispocket a note-book and the means of writing in it.
"Now, father, you will be able to tell us what you saw?" said the lawyerin a soothing coaxing voice.
"I saw," said the old friar at length, speaking with his eyes againclosed--"I saw the dead body of the woman who had passed the churchtowards the Pineta in the morning, brought back by six men from theforest. They passed by the western front of the church, and I saw thatthe body was the body of the woman I speak of."
The Commissary shut up his note-book with a gesture of provokeddisappointment, and shrugged his shoulders impatiently.
"If that is all you have to tell us, frate, you need not have made somuch difficulty about it," he said; "we knew all that before, and neednot have come here to be told it. Plenty of people saw the bringing infrom the forest of the body of the murdered woman, and would giveevidence to the fact without making so much ado about it. Is that allyou saw?"
"Did you not see," said the lawyer, again motioning his companion to bepatient; "did you not see another young woman in the forest yesterdaymorning?"
"Not in the forest," replied the friar without any difficulty. "Not inthe forest; I saw another young woman here yesterday, but it was in thechurch. She came here to make copies of some of the mosaics. I had beenpreviously told to expect such an one."
"Did she come to the church before the time when you saw the other ladypass towards the forest?" asked the lawyer.
"Yes; about half an hour or more before," answered the friar.
"And where was she when the second lady passed, going towards thePineta?" asked the lawyer again.
"She was on the scaffolding in the church, which had been prepared forher to make her copies of the mosaics."
"Do you know whether she saw, or was aware that the second lady hadpassed the church to go towards the Pineta?"
"I know that she was aware of it; I was with her on the scaffolding. Weboth together saw the woman who was afterwards brought back dead pass ina bagarino with the Marchese Ludovico di Castelmare, towards thePineta."
The lawyer looked hard at the Commissary; and the latter in obedience,as it seemed, to the look, took out his note-book again, and made a noteof the declaration.
"And what did the young lady who came to copy the mosaics do afterwards?Where did you part with her?" resumed the lawyer.
"She left the church, and walked in the direction of the forest. Iparted from her at the door of the church."
"And did you see her any more in the course of that morning?" asked thelawyer again.
"I did not: I saw her no more from that time to this," replied thefriar. During the whole of this interrogation, he had appeared far lessdistressed and disturbed than he had been before speaking of his havingseen the body of La Bianca carried past the church towards the city. Hehad answered all the questions concerning Paolina readily and withouthesitation.
"I don't think we need trouble you any further, frate," said theCommissary. "I hope that you will soon get over your touch of fever; andthen, if we need you, there will be no difficulty in your attending,when wanted, in the city. I don't see, that there is anything more to begot at present," he added, addressing the lawyer.
So the two visitors bade the friar adieu, and went down the stairs on tothe open piazza in front of the church.
"Does that fellow know anything more than he tells us?" said theCommissary, as they stepped out of the narrow entry on to the greensward of the piazza.
"I fancy not; I don't see much what he is at all likely to know,"replied the lawyer.
"Nor I; but his manner was so remarkable. One would have said that hewas conscious of having committed the murder himself. In all myexperience I never saw a man so hard put to it to tell a plain andsimple fact."
"Well, the poor old fellow is ill, you see. And then, no doubt, thesight of the body brought back out of the forest made a terribleimpression on him. The extreme seclusion, tranquillity, and monotony ofhis life here, the absence from year's end to year's end of any sort ofemotion of any kind, would naturally have the result of increasing thepainful effect which such an event and such a sight would have upon him.My own notion is that there is nothing further to be got out of him."
"There is our friend the lay-brother sitting in the sunshine just wherewe left him. We might as well just see what he can tell us before goingback to the city."
"He seems very ill, the padre," pursued the Commissary, addressinghimself to brother Simone, as he and the lawyer lounged up to the spotwhere he was sitting; "the fever must have laid hold of him verysuddenly; for it seems he was well enough yesterday morning."
"That is the way with the maledetto morbo," returned the lay-brother;"one hour you are well--as well, that is to say, as one can ever be insuch a place as this--and the next you are down on your back shiveringand burning like--like the poor souls in purgatory. Doubtless the moreof it one has had, the less there is to come. That's the only comfort."
"The padre's mind seems to have been very painfully affected by thesight of the body of the woman, who was murdered in the forest, as itwas being carried back to the city. Did you see it too?" asked thelawyer, observing the friar narrowly, as he spoke.
"Si, Signor, I saw it too, and a piteous sight it was. Father Fabianoand I were both out here on the piazza when the body was carried past.For I was just coming from the belfry yonder, where I had been to ringCompline; and the padre was at the same time coming out of the church,where he had been as usual with him at that hour, at his devotionsbefore the altar of the Saint."
"Then at the hour of Compline the father had not yet been taken ill?"observed the Commissary. "Scusi, Signor; I think he had been struck bythe fever at that time. He fell a-shivering and a-shaking so that hecould hardly stand, when the body was carried past. But that is the waythe mischief always begins. Ah, there's never a doctor knows it betterthan I do, and no wonder."
"You don't think then," said the lawyer, "that it was the sight of thedead body that moved him so?"
"Why should it?" said the lay-brother, in the true spirit of monasticphilosophy; "why should it? all flesh is grass; there is nothing sostrange in death. He sighed and groaned a deal, but that is often FatherFabiano's way when he comes out from his exercises in the church. Heseemed as if he could hardly stand on his legs: but, bless you, that wasthe fever. He took to his bed as soon as ever the men carrying the bodywere out of sight. He's an old man is Father Fabiano."
"Where had he been all the time between the time when the painter ladyleft the church, and the hour of Compline?" asked the Commissary, whohad been busily thinking during the lay-brother's moralizings.
"Ever since a little after the Angelus he had been on his knees at thealtar of St. Apollinare, according to his custom.
He told me so, when hecame to give me my potion; for I was down with the fever yesterdaymorning."
"Do you know where he was before the Angelus?" returned the Commissary.
"He had to ring the Angelus himself, seeing that I was down with thefever. And he came back to the convent in a hurry, fearing that he wastoo late. There's very little doubt that it was heating himself that waythat made the fever take hold of him."
"Where was he hurrying back from, then? Where had he been?" asked theCommissary, endeavouring to hide his eagerness for the reply to thisquestion under a semblance of carelessness.
"He told me, when he came to my cell, that he had been into the forest;and it was plain to see that the walk had been too much for him; he'stoo old for moving much now, is Father Fabiano."
"He had been into the forest; and when he came back at the hour of theAngelus, he seemed quite overcome by his walk?" said the Commissary,recapitulating, and taking out his note-book as he spoke.
"Yes, he did; so much so, that as I lay on my bed and listened to theAngelus bell a-going, I thought to myself that the old man had hardlythe strength to pull the rope," said the lay-brother.
"Hardly strength to pull the rope," repeated the Commissary, as hecompleted the note he was scribbling in his note-book. "Well, I hope hewill soon get over his attack of fever. I think we need not trouble youany further at present, frate--what is your name, my friend?"
"Simone, by the mercy of God, lay-brother of the terz' ordine--"
"That will do, frate Simone," interrupted the Commissary, adding a wordto the entry in his note-book. "Now, Signor Giovacchino, if you areready, I think we may get your carriage out of the barn and go back toRavenna."
"We have not got much for our pains, I am afraid," said the lawyer tothe Commissary of police as they began to leave the Basilica behind themon their way back to the city.
"Humph!" said the Commissary, who was apparently too much absorbed inhis own meditations to be in a mood for conversation.
"Signor Giovacchino," he said, suddenly, after they had traversed nearlyhalf their short journey in silence, "my belief is that your youngfriend the Marchese has no hand in this matter."
"I am convinced he had not," said the lawyer, who was, however, very farfrom having reached any conviction of the kind; "but what we want issome such probable theory on the subject as shall compete successfullywith the theory of his guilt in the matter."
"That theory--shall I give it you? It is not only a theory; it is myfirm belief as to the facts of the case."
"You suspect--"
"I more than suspect--I am very strongly persuaded that this murder hasbeen committed by the girl Paolina Foscarelli."
"My own notion--"
"Look here, this is how it has been. The Marchese Ludovico has made loveto this girl--has made her in love with him--taking the matter au grandserieux, in the way girls will--specially, I am told, it is the way,with those Venetian women. Well, by ill chance, as the devil would haveit, she sees her lover starting on a tete-a-tete expedition into thePineta with this other girl--just the woman of all others in the world,as I am given to understand, to be a dangerous rival, and to excite adeadly jealousy. This much we have in evidence. Further, we know thatthe girl Paolina was expected to return from her expedition to St.Apollinare early in the morning--say at nine o'clock, orthereabouts--whereas she did not return till several hours afterwards.In addition to all this, we have now ascertained that when she left thechurch she did not set out on her return towards the city, as she mightnaturally be expected to have done; but, on the contrary, went in thedirection of the Pineta. Then, assuming the story, told by the Marcheseto be true, we know that, about the very time that this Paolina wasentering the forest, her rival was lying asleep and alone there in theimmediate neighbourhood. We know that the means adopted for theperpetration of the crime were such as to be quite within a woman'sphysical power, and that the weapon used for the purpose such as a womanmay much more readily be supposed to have about her than a man; what doyou say to that as a theory of the facts? Is not the evidenceoverpoweringly strong against this Venetian?"
"Of course my own attention had been called to the case of suspicionagainst her. But I confess I had not been struck by the lastcircumstance you mention; and it seems to me a very strong one. How canit be supposed that a man--a man like the Marchese Ludovico--shouldchance to have a needle about him? The case of suspicion against him,mark, altogether excludes the notion that he went out prepared to takethe life of this unfortunate woman. It is suggested that he put her todeath in order to escape from the ruin that would have ensued from hisuncle's marriage with her. No other possible motive for such a deed canbe conceived. But he knew nothing of any such purpose on the part of theMarchese till the girl herself told him of it as they were drivingtogether to the forest. Therefore, he had not come out prepared with aneedle for the purpose of committing murder. Neither, it is true, doesthe theory we are considering suppose that Paolina came out prepared todo such a deed. But the weapon used is a needle. Is it more likely thata man or that a woman should have by chance such an article about them?I confess it seems to me that this circumstance alone is sufficient toturn the scale of the probabilities unmistakably."
"But that is not all," said the Commissary, laying his fingerimpressively on the lawyer's sleeve; "my belief is that that old friar,padre Fabiano, is aware of the fact that the murder was committed byPaolina Foscarelli. I am not disposed to think that he had any hand inthe doing of the deed; but I think the he has a knowledge of her guilt.He is ill now, doubtless; but I do not believe that he is suffering fromfever and ague. He is suffering from the emotions of horror and terror.We know that he was in the Pineta much about the time at which themurder must have been committed, and very near the spot where it musthave been committed. And he comes back in a state of terrible emotionand consternation. His manner in speaking to us to-day you must haveobserved. I have no belief in an old friar being so terribly impressedby the mere sight of a dead body."
"That is all true," said the lawyer, nodding his head up and downseveral times; "and the circumstances do seem to point to theprobability of your conclusion; but--"
"But why, you will say, should the old man, if he has a merely innocentknowledge of that which I suspect him to know, refuse to tell the wholetruth simply as he knows it? I will tell you why not. In the firstplace, if you had had as much experience of monks, and friars, and nuns,as I have, you would know that it is next to impossible to induce themever to give information to justice of any facts which it is possiblefor them to conceal. It seems to them, I fancy, like recognizing a layauthority in a manner they don't like. They will communicate nothing toyou if they can help it."
"Yes, that's true. I know that is the nature of them," assented thelawyer.
"Then, observe, this Father Fabiano is a Venetian, a fellow-citizen ofthe girl. You know how the Venetians hold together. You may feel quitesure that if he did know her to be guilty of a crime, he would screenher to the utmost of his power. Of course I have not done with him yet.Tutt' altro. We must have an account of that morning stroll in thePineta from the old gentleman's own lips. Meantime, I do not think thatwe need consider our trip to-day to have been altogether thrown away."
"Very far from it. Very far from it, indeed. Honestly, I think that youhave hit the nail on the head, Signor Pietro. There is nothing like thepractical experience of you gentlemen of the police, who pass your livesin playing at who-is-the-sharpest with the most astute of human beings."
"And beating them at their own game," said the Commissary,self-complacently. "If that murder was not committed by PaolinaFoscarelli, I will give you or anybody else leave to call me ablockhead."
And therewith Signor Fortini and his companion drove under the oldarchway of the Porta Nuova and entered the city.
BOOK VI
Poena Pede Claudo