ou are accused of two crimes, the
punishment of which is known to you. Such an answer testifies your small
respect to this court, and must injure a cause which needs to be ably
defended."

"Signor," replied Monte-Leone, "it is because I recognize the great
importance of the cause, that I confide to this man the duty of
exonerating me from it. He alone can do so: his mouth alone, his lips,
will demonstrate my innocence. Stenio Salvatori says, he saw me preside
at the Venta of Pompeia."

"I did," said Stenio, rising again.

"He says I stabbed him at his threshold in the town of
_Torre-del-Greco_."

"I do," said Stenio.

"You see clearly, Signori," continued the Count, speaking to the court,
"that this man is establishing my case distinctly, as he saw me neither
at Pompeia nor at _Torre-del-Greco_. The day on which he, his brothers,
and the people of the latter town, say they saw me, I was imprisoned in
a cell of the Castle _Del Uovo_, an impenetrable prison whence it is
impossible for any human creature to escape, and whence none saw me go."

Bravos filled the hall. The Count was triumphing.

"Signori," said the Grand Judge, rising, "such applause is an insult to
the court, and if it be renewed, the trial will be continued with closed
doors." Silence was restored.

"Do not believe him," said Stenio, turning towards the auditors and
showing his bloody arm. "He was the person who wounded me."

"Justice shall be done," said the Grand Judge. "Signori, a series of
secret and minute inquiries instituted in the Castle _Del Uovo_, the
examination of the employers of the fortress and the confronting of the
gate-keeper, a man of known piety, and the head jailer, one of the most
severe and incorruptible of Naples, have been unable to show how the
Count Monte-Leone contrived to escape from prison. In the face of such
complete evidence of his having remained in the prison, in the face of
the report of the minister of police who visited the prison a few hours
after the commission of the crime at _Torre-del-Greco_, we could not
but recognize the innocence of the Count, and fancy that something had
led to a mistake in his person. A strange and providential circumstance
makes us doubt the innocence of the Count, and though the means of his
escape from the castle be unknown to us, we persist in thinking him
guilty as accused."

The interest and emotion of the audience was as great as it could be;
and the words of the Grand Jud