"You are charged, Signor, with two capital crimes. First, of having, on the night of the 20th December, 1815, conspired against the security of the state, near the ruins of Pompeii, where you presided over a secret society, the object of which is the overthrow of royalty. You are, in the second place, accused of having attempted to assassinate Stenio Salvatori, of _Torre-del-Greco_, to avenge yourself on account of his testimony." "Is this all?" asked Monte-Leone. "It is, Signor," said the Grand Judge; "I think such charges are important enough to induce you to remember that you must now choose your counsel." "You are right, Signor," said Monte-Leone. "For such a cause a skilful advocate is required, one who shall be able to impress your heart with the conviction of my innocence, for on his word depends my life or death." "Find such a one, then, Signor," said the Grand Judge. "Believe me, however, the most eloquent advocate has less influence over a conscientious judge than the facts of the case, the light which illumines them, and which it is their duty to make brilliant in our eyes, rather than seek an opportunity to display their fluency and their political opinions, or, worse yet, to produce public or private scandal--" "You are right, Signor, but the person who will speak in my behalf is neither eloquent nor skilful, yet the most famous pleas, the most powerful defences of Naples, will not produce so much effect as the words of that man." "You, Signor, alone," said the Grand Judge, "can choose your defender. But let me know his name--" "That can only be revealed at the trial." "But you do not know, Signor, you thus deprive yourself of a precious right to all who are accused, secured them by law, the right of communicating with their defenders." "That right I waive. The man who will defend me will know his grave mission only when called on in the face of the supreme tribunal to fulfil it." The Grand Judge looked with amazement at Monte-Leone. "Why, Signor, cannot he be informed of his grave duty?" "God forbid he should!" "Why?" "Because in that case I would lose my cause." The Count laughed. "Act then, Signor, as you please. Strange and whimsical as your conduct is, I have no authority to speak of its advantages and disadvantages." He bowed to Monte-Leone and withdrew. "He is mad," said he, as he was leaving _Castello Capuano_. "He is a fool," said Monte-Leone, as the Grand Judge left. "He did not understand that one defends himself from the effects of a crime committed, but not when no crime has been committed." V.--THE TRIAL. The appointed day came at last, and all Naples assumed a strange and unusual air. One subject of interest took possession of all the city, one idea occupied it, and from the Senator to the Lazzarone all had one name on their lips. Monte-Leone, Count Monte-Leone. "Monte-Leone, the people's friend," said some. "Monte-Leone, the conspirator," said others.