depth of repose, under the mantle of night, and often in a wholly inexplicable manner, the unfortunate accused disappear, and fall victims to that horrible spirit of revenge which we here call policy, and which, like Satan himself, carries on its operations in the dark. Oh! how it wrings the heart to think it possible that”
“Torment yourself not so needlessly,” said Camillo, striving to soothe the countess, whose tears flowed apace. “How can you suffer a circumstance that is so unlikely ever to befall you, to affect you so keenly?”
Apollonia replied, that she had not herself alone in view,—no, she had in view here a happy married pair, there affectionately attached brothers and sisters or friends, nay, all mankind, whose sacred rights were most flagrantly violated by such atrocities. She bade him consider how mutual confidence and the holiest ties might thus be rent asunder; every germ of morality stifled; and society degraded into a horde of poisoners, murderers, and banditti. She directed his view to scenes of heart-rending anguish; when, as she had herself witnessed, mutilated bodies had been found in the streets, in which the sister recognised her brother, the wife her husband. Carried by virtuous enthusiasm to the highest pitch of emotion, she required Camillo to swear, never, while he lived, to resort to the detestable expedient of secret accusation.
