!"

He seized Franco's hand. "I tell you I had begun to undress when a sort
of giddiness came over me, and then it was all up with me. I must needs
put on the dressing-gown again, and rush in here without a light, like a
lunatic. In my haste I even tipped over the basin of sedative water."

"Shall we light the lamp?" Franco asked.

"No, no, no, we had better talk in the dark, better talk in the dark!
See, I am going way over there!" And he sat down at his writing-desk, to
escape the faint glimmer of light which fell through the window. Then he
began. He always spoke in a nervous and disorderly fashion, and it may
easily be imagined how he spoke now, in his present state of agitation.

"Shall I begin? Goodness knows what you will say, dear Don Franco! These
are all useless words, but what would you have--alas! patience--! Well,
I will begin--but where shall I begin? Oh, Lord! just see what a fool I
am, not even knowing where to begin! Ah, that hallucination! Yes, I told
you a lie just now; I can easily guess the origin of that hallucination.
It has to do with a letter; a letter I showed Signora Teresa two years
ago, a letter from Don Franco, your grandfather. Well, now let us begin
at the beginning.

"During his last days my poor father spoke to me of a letter from Don
Franco which I should find in the strong-box, where all the important
papers were kept. He told me to read it, to preserve it carefully, and,
when the time came, to act in accordance with the dictates of
conscience. 'But' said he, 'it is almost certain there will be nothing
to be done.' My poor father passed away. I searched the strong-box for
the letter, but did not find it. I hunted the whole house over, but in
vain. What could I do? I contented myself with reflecting that there was
nothing to be done, and thought no more about the matter. A fool, was I
not? A real idiot! Say so freely, I deserve it. I have said so to myself
so many times! But let us continue. Do you know how your grandfather's
estate was settled? Do you know how the affairs of your house were
arranged? You will forgive me for speaking to you of these matters, will
you not?"

"I know my grandfather died without a will, and that I have nothing,"
Franco replied. "But let us pass that over, and proceed."

To Franco it was truly a painful subject. At old Maironi's death no
will had been found. In perfect love and harmony, the widow and the son,
Don Alessandro, had divided the estate e