“I can not leave her now,” said Orso. “To-morrow, if——”
“I shall be starting very early,” said the prefect.
“Brother,” cried Colomba, clasping her hands, “wait till to-morrow morning, in any case. Let me look over my father’s papers. You can not refuse me that!”
“Well, you shall look them over to-night. But at all events you shall not torment me afterward with your violent hatreds. A thousand pardons, monsieur! I am so upset myself to-night—it had better be to-morrow.”
“The night brings counsel,” said the prefect, as he went out. “I hope all your uncertainty will have disappeared by to-morrow.”
“Saveria,” Colomba called, “take the lantern and attend the Signor Prefetto. He will give you a letter to bring back to my brother.”
She added a few words which reached Saveria’s ear alone.
“Colomba,” said Orso, when the prefect was gone, “you have distressed me very much. Will no evidence convince you?”
“You have given me till to-morrow,” she replied. “I have very little time; but I still have some hope.”
Then she took a bunch of keys and ran up to a room on the upper story. There he could hear her pulling open drawers, and rummaging in the writing-desk in which Colonel della Rebbia had kept his business papers.