“I trust I am not disturbing you, prince?” The words were spoken in a deep, clear voice, and with a notable southern accent.

“Not at all.  I confess I am astonished at seeing you in Rome.  Is there anything I can do for you?  I shall always be grateful to you for having been alive to testify to the falsehood of that accusation made against my son.  Pray sit down.  How is your Signora?  And the children?  All well, I hope?”

“My wife is dead,” returned the other, and the grave tones of his bass voice lent solemnity to the simple statement.

“I am sincerely sorry—­” began the prince, but his visitor interrupted him.

“The children are well.  They are in Aquila for the present.  I have come to establish myself in Rome, and my first visit is naturally to yourself, since I have the advantage of being your cousin.”

“Naturally,” ejaculated Saracinesca, though his face expressed considerable surprise.

“Do not imagine that I am going to impose myself upon you as a poor relation,” continued the other with a faint smile.  “Fortune has been kind to me since we met, perhaps as a compensation for the loss I suffered in the death of my poor wife.  I have a sufficient independence and can hold my own.”

“I never supposed—­”

“You might naturally have supposed that I had come to solicit your favour, though it is not the case.  When we parted I was an innkeeper in Aquila.  I have no cause to be ashamed of my past profession.  I only wish to let you know that it is altogether past, and that I intend to resume the position which my great-grandfather foolishly forfeited.  As you are the present head of the family I judged that it was my duty to inform you of the fact immediately.”

“By all means.  I imagined this must be the case from your card.  You are entirely in your rights, and I shall take great pleasure in informing every one of the fact.  You are the Marchese di San Giacinto, and the inn at Aquila no longer exists.”

“As these things must be done, once and for always, I have brought my papers to Rome,” answered the Marchese.  “They are at your disposal, for you certainly have a right to see them, if you like.  I will recall to your memory the facts of our history, in case you have forgotten them.”

“I know the story well enough,” said Saracinesca.  “Our great-grandfathers were brothers.  Yours went to live in Naples.  His son grew up and joined the French against the King.  His lands were forfeited, he married and died in obscurity, leaving your father, his only son.  Your father died young and you again are his only son.  You married the Signora Felice—­”

“Baldi,” said the Marchese, nodding in confirmation of the various statements.

“The Signora Felice Baldi, by whom you have two children—­”

“Boys.”

“Two boys.  And the Signora Marchesa, I grieve to hear, is dead.  Is that accurate?”