"Speak on, my good Antonio," said Lorenzo, in a gentler tone than he had lately used; for the thoughts of death were still upon him, and to the wretched there is gentleness in the thoughts of death. "What is it you would say? I am in no haste;" and he set down the cup upon the table by the picture. "My lord, we have been all terribly deceived," said Antonio; "you, I, the Signora Leonora--all. While you have thought her false and fickle, she has believed you the same." "Antonio!" exclaimed his lord, in a reproachful tone, "Antonio, forbear. Try not to deceive me by fictions." "My lord, I stake my life upon the truth of what I say," replied Antonio. "I have seen a maid whom she hired in Florence after the rest had left her--those who were carried away from the Villa Morelli, and never heard of more. I had my suspicions; and, after having won her good graces, I questioned the girl closely. Signora d'Orco wrote to you often--sent letters by any courier that was going to France--wept at your silence--pined, and nearly died." "But I wrote often," said Lorenzo. "Your letters never reached her, nor hers you," replied the man; "by a base trick----" "But her handwriting!" exclaimed Lorenzo, "her own handwriting! I saw it--read it." "I know not what that handwriting implied, my lord," was the answer; "but perhaps, if you were to examine it closely, you might find either that it was not hers, or that, thinking you false and forsworn, she wrote in anger, as you have spoken and thought of her." Lorenzo meditated deeply, and then murmured, "It may be so. O God! if this be true!" "It is true, my lord, by my salvation," replied Antonio; "I have the whole clue in my hands. The Signor Leonardo da Vinci, too, knows all, and can satisfy you better than I can." "Is he here?" asked Lorenzo, in a tone of melancholy interest, remembering the happy house at Belgiojosa. "If he be convinced, there must be some truth in it. But tell me, Antonio, what fiend has done this? It cannot surely be Ramiro d'Orco?" "Oh no," replied the man; "but ask me no more, my lord, at present. See the Signor Leonardo. He and I have worked together to discover all, and he will tell you all. Well may you call the man a friend; but I am on his traces, like a staghound, and I will have my fangs in his flanks ere long. Let the maestro tell you, however. I only wished to let you know the truth, as the Signora Leonora is even now with her father below, and you must meet her presently. You could not meet the faithless as the faithful; and she is true to you, my lord--has been ever true." Lorenzo started up. "Leonora here!" he exclaimed; "I must see her---I will see her. Where leads that door, Antonio?" "To the room reserved for your lordship's toilet," replied the man. "Quick! send my varlets up," cried the master; "I will but shake off this dust and go down."