as the gallery was cleared.
"Gisela did not kill Friedrich," he said the moment the door was closed. "I have no evidence to make your charge even seem reasonable, let alone true! For heaven's sake, withdraw now. Admit you spoke out of emotion and were mistaken - "
"I was not mistaken," she said flatly, her green eyes calm and perfectly level. "I will not abandon the truth simply because it has become uncomfortable. I am surprised that you think I might. Is this the courage in the face of fire which earned you an empire?"
"Charging into the enemy's guns may make you a name in history," he said acidly. "But it is an idiotic sacrifice of life. It's all very poetic, but the reality is death, agony, crippled bodies and widows weeping at home, mothers who never see their sons again. It is more than time you stopped dreaming and looked at life as it is." He heard his voice growing higher and louder and he could not help it. He was clenching his fists until his muscles ached, and without being aware of it, he chopped his hand up and down in the air. "Did you not hear that letter? Didn't you look at the jurors' faces? Gisela is a heroine, the ideal of their romantic imagination! You have attacked her with a charge you cannot prove, and that makes you a villain. Nothing I can say is going to change that. If I counterattack it will make it worse."
She stood quite still, her face pale, her shoulders squared, her voice low and a little shaky.
"You give up too easily. We have barely begun. No sensible person makes a decision when he has heard only one side of a story. And sensible or not, the jury is obliged to wait and hear us as well. Is that not what the law is for, to allow both sides to put forward their case?"
"You have no case!" he shouted, then instantly regretted losing his self-control. It was undignified and served no purpose whatever. He should never have allowed himself to become so uncontrolled. "You have no case," he repeated in a calmer voice. "The very best we can do is present evidence indicating that Friedrich was murdered by someone, but we cannot possibly prove it was Gisela! You will have to withdraw and apologize sooner or later, or suffer the full punishment the law may decide, and it may be very high indeed. You will lose your reputation ..."
"Reputation." She laughed a little nervously. "Do you not think I have lost that already, Sir Oh'ver? All I have left now is what little money my family settled on me, and if she takes that, she is welcome. She cannot take my integrity or wit, or my beliefs."
Rathbone opened his mouth to argue, and then conceded the total pointlessness of it. She was not listening. Maybe she had never really listened to him.
"Then..." he began, and realized that what he was about to suggest was futile also.
"Yes?" she inquired.
He had been going to advise her to keep her bearing modest, but that would no doubt be a wasted request. It was not in her nature.
The first witness of the afternoon was Florent Barberini. Rathbone was curious to see him. He was extremely handsome in a Latin fashion, somewhat melodramatic for Rathbone's taste. He was inclined not to like the man.
"Were you at Wellborough Hall at the time of Prince Friedrich's death, Mr. Barberini?" Harvester began quite casually. He chose to use an English form of address, rather than the Italian or German forms.
"Yes, I was," Florent replied.
"Did you remain in England afterwards for some time?"
"No, I returned to Venice for Prince Friedrich's memorial service. I did not come back to England for about six months."
"You were devoted to Prince Friedrich?"
"I am Venetian. It is my home," he corrected.
Harvester was unruffled.
"But you did return to England?"
"Yes."
"Why, if Venice is your home?"
"Because I had heard word that the Countess Rostova had made an accusation of murder against Princess Gisela. I wished to know if that were so, and if it was, to persuade her to withdraw it immediately."
"I see." Harvester folded his hands behind his back. "And when you arrived in London, what did you hear?"
Florent looked down, his brow furrowed. He must have expected the question, but obviously it made him unhappy.
"That apparently the Countess Rostova had quite openly made the charge of which I had heard," he answered.
"Once?" Harvester pressed, moving a step