“I have kept the matter as a surprise for you,” he said.  “You have of course been very busy during these last weeks in making your preparations for the solemn ceremony at which we have just assisted.  It was therefore impossible for you to attend to the multifarious details which it has been my care, my privilege, to sift and examine.  For it is a privilege we should value highly to labour for those we love, for those with whom we share our dearest affections.  I am now about to communicate to you an affair of the highest importance, which, when brought to a successful termination will exercise a tremendous influence over all your life.  Let me say beforehand, however, and lest you should suspect me of any unworthy motives, that I expect no thanks, nor any share in the immense triumph in store for you.  Do not be surprised if I use somewhat strong language on such an occasion.  I have examined everything, preserved everything, taken the best legal advice, and consulted those without whose spiritual counsel I enter upon no weighty undertaking.  My dear son, you, and none other, are the real and rightful Prince Saracinesca.”

The climax to the long preamble was so unexpected that San Giacinto uttered a loud exclamation of surprise.

“Do not be amazed at what I have told you,” said Montevarchi.  “The documents upon which the claims of the Saracinesca rest were drawn up by a wise man.  Although he had not at that time any intention of marrying, he was aware that with heaven all things are possible, and introduced a clause to the effect that if he should marry and leave heirs direct of his body, the whole deed was to be null, void and ineffectual.  I do not know enough of your family history to understand why neither he nor his son nor his grandson ever made any attempt to recover their birthright, but I know enough of law to affirm that the clause is still good.  It is identical”—­the prince smiled pleasantly—­“it is identical in the original and in the copy preserved in the Chancery archives.  In my opinion you have only to present the two documents before a competent court, in order to obtain a unanimous verdict in your favour.”

San Giacinto looked hard from under his overhanging brows at the old man’s keen face.  Then, suddenly, he stuck his heavy fist into the palm of his left hand, and rose from his chair, a gleam of savage triumph in his eyes.  For some time he paced the room in silence.

“I wish Giovanni no ill, nor his father either,” he said at last.

“Heaven forbid!” exclaimed Montevarchi, crossing himself.  “And besides, as the property is all yours, that would be of no use.”

San Giacinto stared a minute, and then his deep voice rang out in a hearty laugh.  He had an intimate conviction that his devout father-in-law was quite capable, not only of wishing evil to his neighbour, but of putting his wishes into execution if his interests could be advanced thereby.