He did not see that Caterina
Ranucci had merely confirmed each statement he had made himself
and had taken his bribe while laughing to herself at his folly. He
was blinded by something which destroys the mental vision more
surely than anger or hatred, or pride, or love itself.
To some extent he was to be pardoned. The chain of circumstantial
evidence was consecutive and so convincing that many a just person
would have accepted Corona's guilt as the only possible
explanation of what had happened. The discoveries he had just made
would alone have sufficed to set up a case against her, and many
an innocent reputation has been shattered by less substantial
proofs. Had he not found a letter, evidently written in a feigned
hand and penned upon his wife's own writing-paper, fastened upon
Gouache's table with her own pin? Had not the old woman confessed--
before he had found the note, too,--that a lady had been there
but a short time before? Did not these facts agree singularly with
Corona's having left him to wait for her during that interval in
the public gardens? Above all, did not this conclusion explain at
once all those things in her conduct which had so much disturbed
him during the past week?
What was this story of Faustina Montevarchi's disappearance? The
girl was probably Corona's innocent accomplice.
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