“Sor Giovanni,” said the curate, “this gentleman is desirous of making your acquaintance.”

Giovanni, whose manners were above his station, bowed politely, and looked inquiringly at his visitor.

“Signor Saracinesca,” said the Prince, “I am Leone Saracinesca of Rome.  I have just heard of your existence.  We have long believed your family to be extinct—­I am delighted to find it still represented, and by one who seems likely to perpetuate the name.”

The innkeeper fixed his piercing eyes on the speaker’s face, and looked long before he answered.

“So you are Prince Saracinesca,” he said, gravely.

“And you are the Marchese di San Giacinto,” said the Prince, in the same tone, holding out his hand frankly.

“Pardon me,—­I am Giovanni Saracinesca, the innkeeper of Aquila,” returned the other.  But he took the Prince’s hand.  Then they all sat down.

“As you please,” said the Prince.  “The title is none the less yours.  If you had signed yourself with it when you married, you would have saved me a vast deal of trouble; but on the other hand, I should not have been so fortunate as to meet you.”

“I do not understand,” said Giovanni.

The Prince told his story in as few words as possible.

“Amazing! extraordinary! what a chance!” ejaculated the curate, nodding his old head from time to time while the Prince spoke, as though he had not heard it all before.  The innkeeper said nothing until old Saracinesca had finished.

“I see how it was managed,” he said at last.  “When that gentleman was making inquiries, I was away.  I had taken my wife back to Salerno, and my wife’s father had not yet established himself in Aquila.  Signor Del—­what is his name?”

“Del Ferice.”

“Del Ferice, exactly.  He thought we had disappeared, and were not likely to come back.  Or else he is a fool.”

“He is not a fool,” said Saracinesca.  “He thought he was safe.  It is all very clear now.  Well, Signor Marchese, or Signor Saracinesca, I am very glad to have made your acquaintance.  You have cleared up a very important question by returning to Aquila.  It will always give me the greatest pleasure to serve you in any way I can.”

“A thousand thanks.  Anything I can do for you during your stay—­”

“You are very kind.  I will hire horses and return to Terni to-night.  My business in Rome is urgent.  There is some suspense there in my absence.”

“You will drink a glass before going?” asked Giovanni; and without waiting for an answer, he strode from the room.

“And what does your Excellency think of your relation?” asked the curate, when he was alone with the Prince.

“A terrible-looking fellow!  But—­” The Prince made a face and a gesture indicating a question in regard to the innkeeper’s character.

“Oh, do not be afraid,” answered the priest.  “He is the most honest man alive.”