But Marcella heard not a word of this petition. She had recognized her petticoat and kirtle, and screamed with all her might:
"Those are my clothes, you thief! You have been robbing me! Thief! thief!" cried she. "Oh, why is Luigi not here? Give me my kirtle! Off with my clothes, this instant, you rogue!"
Laura was somewhat alarmed, and not a little hurt; for the grasp of the peasant was rough, and her voice, as she called for help, was loud and piercing.
"Marcella," said she, when she had opportunity to speak, and her tones were so pleading, that the woman listened in spite of herself- -"Marcella, as I stood beside your threshold to-night, I heard your husband telling you of the misfortunes of the Marchioness Strozzi. He broke off to go into the forest; you followed him, and now I can tell you what he related after you left the cottage. Your husband came respectfully up to the marquis, who repulsed him rudely, and asked what business he had in the court of the castle. Luigi replied that Battista had admitted him, whereupon the marquis discharged Battista on the spot, and drove him from the castle. Then he dragged the marchioness forward and hurried her up the steps of the portico."
"Just so," murmured Marcella. "But what else? Do you know what else occurred? What the signora did?"
"Of course I do. Slipping from her finger a diamond-ring, she presented it to Battista, saying, 'Forgive me; it is I who am the cause of your dismissal.'"
"So she did!" cried Marcella. "But how came you to know?"
"Alas! I am that unhappy marchioness."
"The Marchioness Strozzi!"
"Yes; but believe me, Marcella, I am not crazy. For five years I have been a prisoner, and now that God has willed my liberation by means so marvellous as almost to partake of the character of a miracle, He has sent me to you that you might aid in the blessed work of my deliverance. See my hands bleeding and cut—see my feet torn by thorns, and bruised by stones;—and oh, as you hope for mercy, help me on my way to liberty!"