Montevarchi scarcely hesitated before going to the library.  If he paused at all, it was more to consider the words he intended to use than to weigh in his mind the propriety of using them.  The library was a vast old hall, surrounded on all sides, and nearly to the ceiling, with carved bookcases of walnut blackened with age to the colour of old mahogany.  There were a number of massive tables in the room, upon which the light fell agreeably from high clerestory windows at each end of the apartment.  Meschini himself was shuffling along in a pair of ancient leather slippers with a large volume under his arm, clad in very threadbare black clothes and wearing a dingy skullcap on his head.  He was a man somewhat under the middle size, badly made, though possessing considerable physical strength.  His complexion was of a muddy yellow, disagreeable to see, but his features rendered him interesting if not sympathetic.  The brow was heavy and the gray eyebrows irregular and bushy, but his gray eyes were singularly clear and bright, betraying a hidden vitality which would not have been suspected from the whole impression he made.  A high forehead, very prominent in the upper and middle part, contracted below, so that there was very little breadth at the temples, but considerable expanse above.  The eyes were near together and separated by the knifelike bridge of the nose, the latter descending in a fine curve of wonderfully delicate outline.  The chin was pointed, and the compressed mouth showed little or nothing of the lips.  On each side of his head the coarsely-shaped and prominent ears contrasted disagreeably with the fine keenness of the face.  He stooped a little from the neck, and his shoulders sloped in a way that made them look narrower than they really were.

As the prince closed the door behind him and advanced, Meschini lifted his cap a little and laid down the book he was carrying, wondering inwardly what had brought his employer to see him at that hour of the morning.

“Sit down,” said Montevarchi, with more than usual affability, and setting the example by seating himself upon one of the high-backed chairs which were ranged along the tables.  “Sit down, Meschini, and let us have a little conversation.”

“Willingly, Signor Principe,” returned the librarian, obeying the command and placing himself opposite to the prince.

“I have been thinking about you this morning,” continued the latter.  “You have been with us a very long time.  Let me see.  How many years?  Eighteen?  Twenty?”

“Twenty-five years, Excellency, It is a long time, indeed!”