ood behaviour like a naughty child, with hair powder for poison, and a
wooden toy for a sword; has no doubt that, if she had cared to warm his
heart, some smouldering embers within it might still have burst into
flame; but admits once for all that there was no question of feeling in
the case; it was a bargain on both sides, and a fair one as far as he
was concerned.

Paternity, however, is a condition with which his hearers may be
supposed to sympathize; and he is absolutely eloquent, when he describes
the desire he has cherished for a son, and the burning pain which filled
him when he knew that it had been defrauded. He tells the story of his
wife's intrigue and flight, much as the opinion of Half-Rome has
reflected it; but he laces the question of his child's legitimacy in
such a manner as to extract an equal advantage from either view. In
either case it was Pompilia's crowning iniquity that she gave birth to a
child, and placed it beyond his reach; and in either case it was the
outraged paternal feeling which inspired his act.

The whole monologue is leavened by a spirit of mock deference for
religion, for the Church, and for the law which represents the Church.
Count Guido is led in from the torture, a mass of mock-patient
suffering: wincing as he speaks, but quite in spite of himself--grateful
that his pains are not worse--begging his judges not to be too much
concerned about him; "since, thanks to his age and shaken health, a
fainting fit soon came to his relief--indeed, torture itself is a kind
of relief from the moral agonies he has undergone." He reminds his
judges that the Church was his only mistress for thirty years. He would
have served her, he declares, to the end of his life, but that his
fidelity had been so long ignored. He trusted to the law--in other words
to the Church--to avenge his honour when he ought to have done so
himself. She deceived his trust, and still he hoped and endured. When he
came to Rome, in his last frenzy of just revenge, he still stayed his
hand, because the Feast of the Nativity had begun: it was the period at
which the Church enjoins peace and good-will towards men. The face of
the heavenly infant looked down upon him; he prayed that he might not
enter into temptation. But the days went by, and the Face withered and
waned, and the cross alone confronted him. Then he felt that the hour
had come, and he found his way to his wife's retreat.

The door opened to the name of Caponsa