brother, who was firmly established in Rome, refused to listen to his demands.  At this juncture the old man died, being legally, observe, still the head of the family of Saracinesca; his son should have succeeded him.  But his wife, the young daughter of an obscure Neapolitan nobleman, was not more than eighteen years of age, and the child was only six months old.  People married young in those days.  She entered some kind of protest, which, however, was of no avail; and the boy grew up to be called the Marchese di San Griacinto.  He learned the story of his birth from his mother, and protested in his turn.  He ruined himself in trying to push his suit in the Neapolitan courts; and finally, in the days of Napoleon’s success, he took service under Murat, receiving the solemn promise of the Emperor that he should be reinstated in his title.  But the Emperor forgot his promise, or did not find it convenient to keep it, having perhaps reasons of his own for not quarrelling with Pius the Seventh, who protected the Roman Saracinesea Then came 1815, the downfall of the Empire, the restoration of Ferdinand IV. in Naples, the confiscation of property from all who had joined the Emperor, and the consequent complete ruin of San Giacinto’s hopes.  He was supposed to have been killed, or to have made away with himself.  Saracinesea himself acknowledges that his grandson is alive, and possesses all the family papers.  Saracinesca himself has discovered, seen, and conversed with the lawful head of his race, who, by the blessing of heaven and the assistance of the courts, will before long turn him out of house and home, and reign in his stead in all the glories of the Palazzo Saracinesca, Prince of Rome, of the Holy Roman Empire, grandee of Spain of the first class, and all the rest of it.  Do you wonder I rejoice, now that I am sure of putting an innkeeper over my enemy’s head?  Fancy the humiliation of old Saracinesca, of Giovanni, who will have to take his wife’s title for the sake of respectability, of the Astrardente herself, when she finds she has married the penniless son of a penniless pretender!”

Del Ferice knew enough of the Saracinesca’s family history to know that something like what he had so fluently detailed to Donna Tullia had actually occurred, and he knew well enough that she would not remember every detail of his rapidly told tale.  Hating the family as he did, he had diligently sought out all information about them which he could obtain without gaining access to their private archives.  His ready wit helped him to string the whole into a singularly plausible story.  So plausible, indeed, that it entirely upset all Donna Tullia’s determination to be angry at Del Ferice, and filled her with something of the enthusiasm he showed.  For himself he hoped that there was enough in his story to do some palpable injury to the Saracinesca; but his more immediate object was not to lose Donna Tullia by letting her feel any disappointment at the discovery recently made by the old Prince.  Donna Tullia listened with breathless interest until he had finished.