obstinately
denied both any complicity in the crime and any knowledge of the
assassin. Beatrice, above all, displayed the greatest assurance,
demanding to be the first to be confronted with Marzio; whose mendacity
she affirmed with such calm dignity, that he, more than ever smitten by
her beauty, determined, since he could not live for her, to save her by
his death. Consequently, he declared all his statements to be false, and
asked forgiveness from God and from Beatrice; neither threats nor
tortures could make him recant, and he died firm in his denial, under
frightful tortures. The Cenci then thought themselves safe.

God's justice, however, still pursued them. The sbirro who had killed
Olympio happened to be arrested for another crime, and, making a clean
breast, confessed that he had been employed by Monsignor Guerra--to put
out of the way a fellow-assassin named Olympio, who knew too many of the
monsignor's secrets.

Luckily for himself, Monsignor Guerra heard of this opportunely. A man
of infinite resource, he lost not a moment in timid or irresolute plans,
but as it happened that at the very moment when he was warned, the
charcoal dealer who supplied his house with fuel was at hand, he sent for
him, purchased his silence with a handsome bribe, and then, buying for
almost their weight in gold the dirty old clothes which he wore, he
assumed these, cut off all his beautiful cherished fair hair, stained his
beard, smudged his face, bought two asses, laden with charcoal, and
limped up and down the streets of Rome, crying, "Charcoal! charcoal!"
Then, whilst all the detectives were hunting high and low for him, he got
out of the city, met a company of merchants under escort, joined them,
and reached Naples, where he embarked. What ultimately became of him was
never known; it has been asserted, but without confirmation, that he
succeeded--in reaching France, and enlisted in a Swiss regiment in the
pay of Henry IV.

The confession of the sbirro and the disappearance of Monsignor Guerra
left no moral doubt of the guilt of the Cenci. They were consequently
sent from the castle to the prison; the two brothers, when put to the
torture, broke down and confessed their guilt. Lucrezia Petroni's full
habit of body rendered her unable to bear the torture of the rope, and,
on being suspended in the air, begged to be lowered, when she confessed
all she knew.

As for Beatrice, she continued unmoved; neither promises, threa