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"See, I have not slept," said Villefort, showing his undisturbed bed; "grief does not stun me. I have not been in bed for two nights; but then look at my desk; see what I have written during these two days and nights. I have filled those papers, and have made out the accusation against the assassin Benedetto.
I will show her that I have hopes for her soul, and that I do not fear for my own." Don Clemente could not refrain from interrupting him. "No, no, no, my son!" he exclaimed, greatly alarmed; and while he held the young man's face imprisoned between his hands, he was casting about in his mind for a means of preventing such a meeting, and of getting Benedetto away.
Jacopo Sansovino, when Tribolo, now restored to health, went to work under him, was executing in the Office of Works of S. Maria del Fiore, in competition with Benedetto da Rovezzano, Andrea da Fiesole, and Baccio Bandinelli, the marble statue of S. James the Apostle which is still to be seen at the present day at that place together with the others.
Every one was trembling and smiling, in the anticipation of another miracle. The two women were not deceived; they passed Don Clemente without so much as a glance, turned to Benedetto, and the elder said firmly: "Holy man of God! You have healed this one, now heal the other also!"
The man started violently at the sound of his voice, and nearly let the jug of milk fall. "Oh, Benedé!" he exclaimed, recognising Benedetto, "are you here?" Benedetto begged for a drink of milk, for the love of God! "You can explain to the monks," said he. "You can say I was exhausted, and asked for a little milk, for the love of God." "Yes, yes! It is all right! Take it!
The storm broke with such fury that the masts snapped and the sails flew about. A piece of a mast knocked a convict overboard, and when he was fished up his skull was found to be fractured. A cry of terror ran through the lines and the jailers hastened to bring the columns to the pontoons. Benedetto and Anselmo cowered in their corners and listened to the roar of the mistral.
Two Frenchmen had been in San Giovanni for ten days, and their anxiety to go was up to fever point. They took it in turns to stand "pour observer," wrapped up to their noses, in a doorway, watching the Benedetto in case she should give them the slip. We called them Tweedledum and Tweedledee. One night somebody rushed up to their room. Booted, they jumped out of bed, and ran about overhead.
"I also must ask for five minutes," she said in French, blushing; and then it immediately occurred to her she had thus shown that she knew him to be a man of culture; her face was aflame, as she repeated her petition in Italian. Almost involuntarily Don Clemente pressed Benedetto's arm gently. Benedetto replied courteously, but somewhat drily: "Do you wish to do a kind action?
Jeanne did not reply; the herder answered for her, and then he told how Benedetto had spent the night out of doors; that he had found him at daybreak, in the grove of the Sacro Speco, wet to the skin. He had offered him some milk and Benedetto had drunk like a dying man to whom life is returning. "Listen, Giovacchino," the herder added, growing suddenly grave.
On the evening of the day on which Valentine had learned of the flight of Eugenie and the arrest of Benedetto, Villefort having retired as well as Noirtier and d'Avrigny, her thoughts wandered in a confused maze, alternately reviewing her own situation and the events she had just heard. Eleven o'clock had struck.
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