and quiet might help him. He thanked me, and refused.

"If I have any knowledge of myself," he said, "terrors of
anticipation lose their hold when I am face to face with
a serious call on me. The longer I remain here, the less worthy
I shall appear of the trust that has been placed in me--the trust
which, please God, I mean to deserve."

My own observation of human nature told me that this was wisely
said. I led the way at once to the cell.


CHAPTER IV.

THE MINISTER SAYS YES.

The Prisoner was seated on her bed, quietly talking with
the woman appointed to watch her. When she rose to receive us,
I saw the Minister start. The face that confronted him would,
in my opinion, have taken any man by surprise, if he had first
happened to see it within the walls of a prison.

Visitors to the picture-galleries of Italy, growing weary of
Holy Families in endless succession, observe that the idea of
the Madonna, among the rank and file of Italian Painters, is
limited to one changeless and familiar type. I can hardly hope
to be believed when I say that the personal appearance of
the murderess recalled that type. She presented the delicate
light hair, the quiet eyes, the finely-shaped lower features
and the correctly oval form of face, repeated in hundreds on