to him? Had he
stolen, or killed anybody, or tried to evade the octroi duty? No. Then
why should an ugly thief of a sick man climb upon his cart? The wretch
had hardly clothes enough to cover him decently--a torn shirt and a pair
of old trousers that he must have stolen, for they were much too short
for him! And so on, and so forth, to the crowd, for the carabineers paid
no more attention to him after he had answered their first questions;
but the crowd listened with interest, the small boys drew near again,
the octroi inspectors looked on, and Mommo had a sympathetic audience.
It was the general opinion that he had been outrageously put upon, and
that some one had murdered the sick man, and had tied the body to the
cart in order that Mommo should be accused of the crime, it being highly
likely that a murderer should take so much unnecessary trouble to carry
his victim and the evidence of his crime about with him in such a very
public manner.

"If he were dead, now," observed an old peasant, who had trudged in with
a bundle on his back, "you would immediately be sent to the galleys."

This was so evident that the crowd felt very sorry for Mommo.

"Of course I should," he answered. "By this time to-morrow I should have
chains on my legs, and be breaking stones! What is the law for, I should
like to know?"

Meanwhile, the carabineers had lifted Marcello very gently from the cart
and had carried him into the octroi guard-house, where they set him in a
chair, wrapped the ragged blanket round his knees and waist, and poured
a little wine down his throat. Seeing that he was very weak, and having
ascertained that he had nothing whatever about him by which he could be
identified, they sent for the municipal doctor of that quarter of the
city.

While they were busy within, one of the inspectors chanced to look at
the closed window, and saw the face of a handsome girl pressed against
the pane outside, and a pair of dark eyes anxiously watching what was
going on. The girl was so very uncommonly handsome that the inspector
went out to look at her, but she saw him coming and moved away, drawing
her cotton kerchief half across her face. Regina's only fear was that
Mommo might recognise her, in which case she would inevitably be
questioned by the carabineers. It was characteristic of the class in
which she had been brought up, that while she entertained a holy dread
of being cross-questioned by them, she felt the most complete co