se two rings is the work of Benvenuto Cellini."

"On my soul and conscience, and by Christ," said the first expert, after
a careful scrutiny, "this is the work of Benvenuto Cellini."

"And you, sir?" said the judge to the second.

"On my soul and conscience, and by Christ, this is the work of the great
master."

"And this ring," said the judge, "what is it?"

"This is but a copy, compared with the original, of trifling value and
fineness."

"Very well, Signori," said the Grand Judge, rising, and with a ring in
each hand. "This ring given me yesterday by the Duke of Palma, and by
him received from the Salvatori, is an imitation of Benvenuto Cellini's
great work. The real ring of the Monte-Leoni, the chef-d'oeuvre, an
heir-loom of the family, has just been brought us by an old servant of
that noble house."

The effect of the words of the Grand Judge was immense. He was silent,
and with the other judges consulted about the decree. A few moments
after, with his hand on his heart, the Grand Judge said:

"After having carefully sought for traces of the double crime of which
Count Monte-Leone is accused--after having heard the public accuser, the
proof is found most incomplete. It appears that all the facts are based
on the resemblance of Count Monte-Leone with some unknown person, in
relation to whose identity the Salvatori were mistaken. The court
declares the Count Monte-Leone innocent of the double crime imputed to
him, and orders that he be immediately released. As for you, the
brothers Salvatori," continued the Grand Judge, sternly, "your hatred to
the Count Monte-Leone is well known. We interpret your conduct in the
most favorable light, attributing it to mistake, and not to cowardly
revenge. If the counterfeit ring was fabricated at your instance, to
corroborate the accusations made against the Count, and justice should
become possessed of proofs of it, you would have to fear its rigor and
punishment. If there be severe laws for calumniators, those for
assassins are yet more stern. You would in that case have murdered Count
Monte-Leone."

The Salvatori were amazed. The rage of Stenio was irrepressible.

"Beautiful justice! Do we serve the king so faithfully for his justices
to treat us thus! I repeat again," said he with an accent so terrible
that it reached even Monte-Leone's heart, "the Count was at Pompeia. He
stabbed me. He is an assassin!"

He then left as he had entered, walking painfully, and leanin