"You know her well? You are one of her intimate friends?"
"Am I?"
"Are you not?"
"I am friendly with her. She is an estimable woman, with much feeling and penetration"--and a fond regret exhibited itself in the face of the speaker.
"Well, Sir, you may as well confess. We know you, Sir. We know you. You are one of the chosen associates of that infamous Garibaldian plotter and assassin, whose hotel is the hot-bed of conspiracy and revolution. We know you. Do you dare to come here and deny it?"
"I did not come here; I was brought. I do not deny that you know me, though I haven't the pleasure of knowing you. But I do deny that I am the associate of conspirators."
"Are you not the American whom _La Cica_ so particularly distinguished with her favor?"
"I have reason to believe that she was partial to me--somewhat."
"He confesses!" said the General. "You came from her to this place, communicating on the way with her emissaries."
"I communicated on the way with none but brigands among the mountains. If they were her emissaries I wish her joy of them. My means of communication," said the Senator, while a grim smile passed over his face, "was an iron crow-bar, and my remarks left some deep impression on them, I do believe."