The uncertain wind of popular opinion had now completely veered about; and many of those who were behind me scrupled not to proclaim aloud that I had established my innocence, the news of which, spreading to a multitude of persons collected without, produced a shout amongst them, which seemed painfully to affect the corregidor. "Hush!" cried he, raising his hand,--"Hush! I entreat--I command! This young gentleman is evidently innocent; but do not insult my sorrow. My good friends and fellow-citizens," he proceeded, making a great effort to speak calmly, "I have always tried to act towards you all as a common father, and I am sure that you love me sufficiently to leave me, and retire quietly and in silence, when I tell you, that I have now no other children but yourselves. My daughter--is dead!" and covering his eyes with his hands, he gave way to a passionate burst of tears. A deep silence reigned for a moment or two amongst the people, as if they could scarcely believe what they had heard: then one whispered to another, and dropping gradually away, they left the audience chamber. A momentary murmur was heard without, as the sad news was told and commented in the crowd: it also died away, and all was silence. But what were my own sensations? I can hardly tell. At first I stood as one thunder-struck, with power to feel much, but not to reason on it. It seemed as if I had killed her; and for long I could not persuade myself that I was in no way accessory to her death. After a moment or two, however, my thoughts were interrupted by the corregidor, who recovered himself, and, wiping the tears from his eyes, rose and turned towards Father Francis. "Your pupil, sir," said he, in a calm, firm tone, "is free; but yet, notwithstanding the melancholy event which has occurred in my family, I will ask a few minutes' private conversation with him, as I wish to give him some advice, which he may find of service. He shall return home in half an hour. Signor Conde de Montenero," he proceeded, speaking to the Chevalier, "I know you will pardon me in leaving you. Young gentleman, will you accompany me?" The Chevalier bowed, and retired with Father Francis and Houssaye, and the corregidor led me into a long gallery, and thence into private room beyond. On the table lay my sword, which I had left behind the night before, forgetting it in the agitation of the moment. The corregidor shut the door, and pointed to the weapon with a look of that unutterable, heart-broken despair, which was agonising even to behold. The thoughts of all that had passed--the lovely enchanting girl that he had lost--his passionate affection towards her--the knowledge he must now have of her crime--the desolation of his age--the void that must be in his heart--the horrid absence of love and of hope--the agony of memory--I saw them all in that look, and they found their way to every sympathy of my nature.