"Your Eminence has doubtless heard of this dreadful murder?" began
Gouache, forgetting all formality in the extremity of his excitement.
"Yes," said the cardinal, sitting down. "You have something to communicate concerning it, I understand."
"Donna Faustina Montevarchi has been charged with the crime, and is in the prison of the Termini," answered the Zouave, speaking hurriedly. "I am here to ask your Eminence to order her release without delay—-"
"On what grounds?" inquired the statesman, raising his eyebrows a little as though surprised by the way in which the request was made.
"Because she is innocent, because her arrest was due to the mistake of the prefect of police—the evidence was against her, but it was absurd to suppose that she could have done it—-"
"The prefect of police received my approval. Have you any means of showing that she is innocent?"
"Showing it?" repeated Gouache, who looked dazed for a moment, but recovered himself immediately, turning white to the lips. "What could be easier?" he exclaimed. "The murderer is before you—I saw the prince, I asked him for his daughter's hand in marriage, he insulted me. I left the room, but I returned soon afterwards. I found him alone, and I killed him—I do not know how I did it—-"
"With Donna Faustina's handkerchief," suggested the cardinal. "Perhaps you do not remember that it was lying on the floor and that you picked it up and knotted it—-"
"Yes, yes! Round his neck," cried Gouache nervously. "I remember. But I saw red, everything swam, the details are gone. Here I am—your Eminence's prisoner—I implore you to send the order at once!"
The cardinal had hitherto maintained a grave expression. His features suddenly relaxed and he put out his hand.