ge myself truly, I
delighted in, was the circumstance of my having gained a victory over
those who possess hereditary claims for depth and cunning.

Ah, it does not do to cast the lead too frequently into the depths of
the heart in search of motives.

I was at dinner the same day when a card was sent in to me; it had the
name of M. Narelli, the head of the police, printed upon it. I was at a
loss to imagine what business he could have with me; but as my servant
told me that it was a matter of the last moment, with some misgivings I
desired that he might be shown in. The moment he appeared, I could
detect at one glance that he was a man of official eminence, and also of
great ability. The eye always catches the resolution or indecision of
the mind. To judge from his expression, he must have been a man of the
coolest courage and most determined character. His manner was
deferential, without being obsequious; his voice, clear, sonorous, and
distinct, rang on the ear like a well-toned bell.

He commenced by apologizing for the intrusion, and then at once asked me
whether it was true that I had that morning purchased some lace of a
young Jewish girl in the Ghetto.

No sooner had he uttered the word lace, than the whole tragedy burst
upon me. I remembered Rachel's hesitation, her fears, her tremblings,
and excitement: all was explained. For one moment I felt tempted to deny
the whole transaction, and to refuse to show the lace: a second
consideration, however, proved to me that it would be at once absurd and
unjustifiable: but that moment showed me the poor girl, pale,
broken-hearted, and trembling under the weight of a terrible accusation.
I bitterly lamented the innocent part which I had taken in this
transaction, and regretted that I had ever visited the Ghetto in search
of lace. I thought of her as I first saw her standing at the
fruit-stall, with that haughty, contemptuous glance, that resolute and
open countenance; and it was bitter to picture her sinking in jail, in
such a prison as Italy boasts of in these enlightened days: but there
was not much time for reflection and consideration. M. Narelli, who saw
that I was hesitating, told me at once that the whole truth was known,
and that he must require the piece of lace to be given over to him; he
then suggested that it would be a kindness to the woman herself if I
would accompany him at once to St. Angelo, to be confronted with her.

As we drove rapidly down the str