avowed herself to be Ziobà's mistress, and that
she sat to him as a model. As the features of
this girl bore a still more striking resemblance
to the pen-and-ink drawings than those of
Lucrezia Toldo, the truthfulness of this witness
could not be called in question.

The commission of inquiry sent for Lucrezia,
and confronted her with the accused. They
looked fixedly at each other, and declared it
was the first time they had met. The
physiognomy of Lucrezia did not betray the
slightest emotion; but as she left the court the
widow of Antonio Toldo burst into tears,
declaring that her husband would never be avenged,
as that man could not be the murderer; she
had never seen his face before.

The fair ladies of Venice being celebrated for
skilful intrigue, and their morals not above
suspicion, the magistrates ordered the most
minute inquiries to be made respecting the
antecedents of Lucrezia. They all turned in favour
of that lady. Not only had she never been
known to have been concerned in an affair of
gallantry, but on this point she affected a severity
almost amounting to prudery, so much so that
she had broken off all intercourse with her
mother on account of an affair which created
some scandal ten years previously. In vain at
different times had her mother endeavoured to
procure a reconciliation. The idea of complicity
between Pascal Ziobà and the widow of
Messer Antonio was therefore given up as
inadmissible.

Nor did the matchlock throw any light upon
the transaction. Pascal declared that he never
was in possession of firearms. The armourers
of Venice and Padua stated that it had not
come from their workshops. They presumed it
was of Milanese fabrication, and the letter G,
inlaid in mother-of-pearl in the stock, showed
that it had, in all probability, been made to
special order. It was presumed this weapon
had been kept in some wealthy house as a
relic.

When the circumstances attending the
perpetration of the crime were entered into, the
accused brought forward in evidence a band of
students with whom he was in the Place of
St. Mark precisely at the hour the murder was
committed. It is true Ziobà had left his comrades
for a few minutes, and it was proved that the
man who struck the hours at the Frari did so
after all the other clocks had struck; but the
distance between the Zeno Palace and the
Square of St. Mark would take a quarter of an
hour, and as much to return, and unless he had
wings at his heels, Pascal, with all his agility,
could not have done the distance in the short
time he was absent. It was observed that he,
appeared heated on his return, but the carnival
was at its height, and there were numbers of
students as heated as himself, and the gaiety and
unembarrassed good humour he displayed could
not give ground for the suspicion that he had
just committed a murder. This plea of an alibi
threw the court into additional perplexity.

There still remained the anonymous letter
which had drawn Antonio Toldo into the snare.
Whether it was that the handwriting was
skilfully disguised, or that it was by another hand.
no resemblance could be traced to that of the
student. The letter, moreover, was written in
the Brescian dialect, and none had ever heard
Pascal Ziobà make use of that dialect.
Despite all these doubts, the prisoner was
remanded, and his trial ordered to take place in
due form before the Court of the Forty.

CHAPTER II.

PASCAL, in reply to the questions of his
judges, gave the following narrative of the
history of his early years:

"As far back as his memory went, he had
recollections of a magnificent palace in which he
dwelt, in a chamber hung with tapestry, where
two women had care of him. He drew from
this the conclusion that he belonged to some
noble family on the mainland. One day there
was a great uproar in the palace. He heard
shrieks and the sound of cannon and musketry.
A frightened maid-servant carried him off in her
arms, and hurried through the streets, which
were full of soldiers. The town was doubtless
being pillaged. In the midst of the tumult he
did not know what became of him. After an
interval of which he had no recollection, he
found himself in company of a band of gipsies,
entrusted to the care of a young gipsy lass, who
used to beat him and half starve him. At a halt
of these gipsies near Bassano, he hid himself in
some bushes; and the gipsies, being obliged to
decamp, left him behind. A peasant woman
found him, and took him home with her. She
was still alive; her name Marcellina Aliga. He
knew that his name was Pascal, and as the good
woman had found him on the Bassano road on
a Thursday, she gave him the byname of Ziobà,
which he had kept ever since, and by which he
was known at the university. Marcellina was
very fond of him, and he still loved her with
the affection of a son. One day, two gentlemen,
in hunting costume, entered her cottage
to rest themselves. Wine and fruit were laid
before them. One of the two, who was no
other than the celebrated painter Titian, having
scrutinised his (Pascal's) countenance, proposed
that he should go with him to Venice, saying
he wished to take his portrait. Marcellina
allowed him to go, and he accompanied Titian.
That great master took a liking to him, gave
him lessons, and found that he had some taste
for the noble art he cultivated. He became
one of his pupils, and had the honour of working
at the decorations of the Hall of the Grand
Council. As a reward for his labour, and at
the request of his master, the most noble
Council of Ten granted him an annual pension
of fifty ducats for a term of ten years. At the
expiration of four years the decorations were
completed. Thanks to the generosity of the
noble lords, he had a pension and the means
of a livelihood. By the interest of Titian, he
was admitted to the University of Padua,
though he had no family papers or certiticate