After a while the horror of the spectacle grew upon me: it presented itself no longer as a picture to my imagination, but as a fearful fact. The crowd of people who forced their way into the room--the blasphemous and terrible expressions--the coarse jokes--the vulgar, obscene language--the poor child, not fashioned tenderly, but lying like a confused mass of clothes and gore upon the floor, perfectly sickened my heart. And when I thought that I could not be of any further use, I was too happy to turn away. I returned home, but could not sleep. All the events of the day crowded upon my mind. My dream had been dreamt before I laid my head upon the pillow: it now filled my brain like a horrible vision. I rose early, wearied with restlessness, and went immediately in search of M. Narelli. To my great surprise I found that he was up, and in close communication with the chief of the police, whom I had seen on the preceding night at the poor child's room. I was immediately shown into his office, and I observed that his countenance betrayed an anxiety and annoyance unusual in persons of his nature under any circumstances. I was beginning to tell him my story, when he interrupted me. "My dear sir," he said, "pardon me, but we have no time to lose, and I know it all. A murder has been committed, and there is no question that Flavio is the murderer: and I will tell you something more that will surprise you. I know the cause of the murder--the motives that influenced him. What do you think?--he was present at the examination of that girl, yesterday!" "He!" I exclaimed, with an expression of astonishment. "It is surprising what he can do," he said: "he was disguised like a soldier on guard; and, if you remember, two or three of them were listening when the door was opened, when I returned after your interview with Rachel." The whole mystery was now explained: he had murdered the child to revenge himself on Rachel. "What I fear is," continued M. Narelli, "that we are three hours too late, and the fellow has escaped; but we have sent off in all directions, and all that can be will be done. I am now going to see the poor girl, will you come with me?" A strange fascination made me do so; besides, I wished to restore the objects which she had given into my charge. When we arrived we found her asleep: the jailer awoke her more gently and with more consideration than before, for her sorrow had touched even his heart. When she saw me she gave an exclamation of joy. "And my child?" she said. I could not answer a word, but put the packet into her hand. She looked up with a kind of vague, incredulous smile, and passed her hand across her forehead, as though to reflect more clearly. "You have seen her, and you have not given it to her," she said. "What does it mean?" "It means," said M. Narelli, "that your child is the victim of an act of fearful treachery, of a dreadful crime."