The crowd demanded wine, which was served by Vincenti. The girl Ninetta stood at the door looking at me curiously, and I thought rather pityingly. My trial then began. It was brief and to the point. They had received my description from both the English and Russian police, and by the latter a large reward had been offered for my capture. They had tracked me thus far, and by the random shot I had fired I had mortally wounded one of their companions.
Without admitting that I was the man they were looking for, I made up a fictitious story, declaring my innocence. It was listened to incredulously by most of them, but among a few I thought I saw looks that encouraged me, and I wound up with an impromptu appeal for life which I felt must touch them. I was doomed to bitter disappointment, when the man who had been so officiously anxious to hang me at once, rose, remarking with a harsh laugh: “No, no, you can’t deceive us in that way. Come on. Let’s hang him!”
Several rose, and with loud, deep, voluble oaths supported the suggestion. My blood ran cold as I realised my imminent peril. These rough fellows from Piacenza felt perfectly justified in hanging me to the nearest tree, seeing that I had shot one of their number. What could I do? I gazed from one to the other like a hunted animal.
“Surely you would not hang a man without evidence,” I cried. “I can show you letters to prove who I am.”
The tall man, whom they called Luigi, stepped up and unbound my hands. I drew forth a note I received while in Paris. It contained a carte-de-visite of my sister Mascha, which fell to the floor as I drew out the letter. Luigi picked it up.
“It is my sister’s picture,” I cried. “Here, read the letter any of you. It will prove that I am an honest man.”
Luigi gazed earnestly at the picture. “Dio mio! she’s a beauty!” he remarked.
The picture was passed round, but opinions were freely expressed that she was not my sister at all. Ninetta crowded in among the men and asked to see the photograph. Luigi handed it to her, jocosely remarking that he would marry her when she grew to be as handsome as that.
She quietly replied: “He speaks the truth!” and gazed intently on the photograph. “I’ll swear that’s his sister,” she added presently.