“Well,” replied Adelardi, “what I mean is that many things of no avail in the eye of the law might not be without influence over him who is head of the law.”
And while she was listening with interest, unintentionally betrayed by her eager, agitated expression, her glowing cheeks, and parted lips, Adelardi pleaded his friend's cause, relating what we have already learned respecting his apparent, rather than real, complicity, his ignorance of the actual designs of the conspirators, and the circumstances that led to his presence among the insurgents on the twenty-fourth of December. In short, he gave her all the details of which she had been totally ignorant, having only heard, during her absence, of George's offence and the sentence he had incurred.
“And the emperor,” said she eagerly, “does he know it was he who saved his brother's life that dreadful day?”
“I doubt it; there were only two witnesses who could attest it. One of these did not come forward, for fear of compromising himself; the other was exceptionable.”
“Who was the other?”
“A man named Fabiano Dini, George's secretary; but a great culprit, not considered worthy of credit. He told the truth, however, ardently hoping his testimony might save his master.”
“He is doubtless condemned to the same fate?”
“Yes, but to a more severe one; his sentence is for life, whereas George's is only for twenty-five years.”
“Only twenty-five years!” repeated she, with a shudder.
“Yes, it is horrible; it is worse than death! And George will envy the wretch who was the prime cause of his misfortune, for Dini, seriously wounded on the twenty-fourth of December, will probably die before the sad day fixed for their departure.”