should be tortured by the thought that my ancestral estates, for which
far better men than I shed their blood, were being scattered to the
winds by a worthless descendant, were dribbling away piecemeal and
passing into the hands of usurers, shopkeepers, and aliens, and all
through the very man who, so far from weeping at my death, will be ready
to dance for joy at it. I mean to deprive him of that satisfaction."

"May I give you a piece of advice, sir?"

"There's no need of that. You've only got to listen to me." Then,
seizing the hand of the artisan, to rivet his attention the better, he
thus proceeded: "There is one way of drawing a blood-red cross through
all Abellino's calculations--for I want to draw blood, I want to wound
him to the very heart, because he has insulted me--and that one way is
for me to marry."

Here Karpathy stopped, and threw himself back in his chair, as if
waiting to see what the artisan would say to that. But he only nodded
his head, as if he understood the matter completely.

"If a child were to be born to me," continued Karpathy, and, in a sudden
outburst of merriment, he banged the table with his fist, "why, it would
be enough to make me live my life over again. I am not superstitious,
sir; but when I was lying on my death-bed, a heavenly vision gave me the
assurance that, to the wonder of my fellows, I should return from the
realm of death, though everybody looked upon me as a dead man already;
and the mere fact of my recovering my strength and good humour is proof
enough to me that that vision was no false dream. I mean to marry. And
now you shall hear how that concerns you. You have a young ward--a girl
whom Abellino persecutes, and Abellino's associates lay bets with each
other as to who shall win her first, as if it were a horse-race. Now, I
want to put a stop to this base persecution. I would provide her with a
place of refuge so secure, that if all its doors and windows stood right
open before him, Abellino would not venture in. That place of refuge is
my house!"

"What do you mean, sir?"

"I mean that I demand from you your ward as my wife!"

"What?"

"My lawful consort, I say. For many years the world has known me under
the title of 'the good old fool.' I would employ the remainder of my
days in excising the word 'fool' from that title."

Master Boltay slowly arose from beside the table.

"Sir, your honour's offer flatters and amazes me. You are a gentleman,
with an an