“Both the noble parties promising, finally, in regard to the present cession, to take account of it, to hold it as acceptable, valid, and perpetual, and, for the same, never to allow it to be spoken of otherwise.”

A few words followed, setting forth the name of the notary and the statement that the act was executed in his presence, with the date.  When he had finished reading all, he rose and turned the document upon the table so that the two parties could stand opposite to him and sign it.  Without a word he made a slight inclination and offered the pen to Saracinesca.  The old gentleman pushed back his chair and marched forward with erect head and a firm step to sign away what had been his birthright.  From first to last he had acknowledged the justice of his cousin’s claims, and he was not the man to waver at the supreme moment.  His hair bristled more stiffly than ever, and his dark eyes shot fire, but he took the pen and wrote his great strong signature as clearly as he had written it at the foot of his marriage contract five and thirty years earlier.  Giovanni looked at him with admiration.

Then San Giacinto, who had risen out of respect to the old man, came forward and took the pen in his turn.  He wrote out his name in straight, firm characters as usual, but at the end the ink made a broad black mark that ended abruptly, as though the writer had put the last stroke to a great undertaking.

“There should be two witnesses,” said the notary in the awkward silence that followed.  “Don Giovanni can be one,” he added, giving the latter the only name that was now his, with a lawyer’s scrupulous exactness.

“One of your clerks can be the other,” suggested Saracinesca, who was anxious to get away as soon as possible.

“It is not usual,” replied the notary.  “Is there no one in the palace?  One of the young princes would do admirably.”

“They are all away,” said San Giacinto.  “Let me see—­there is the librarian.  Will he answer the purpose?  He must be in the library at this hour.  A respectable man—­he has been thirty years in the house.  For that matter, the steward is probably in his office, too.”

“The librarian is the best person,” answered the notary.

“I will bring him at once—­I know the way.”  San Giacinto left the study by the door that opened upon the passage.  The others could hear his heavy steps as he went rapidly up the paved corridor.  Old Saracinesca walked up and down the room unable to conceal his impatience.  Giovanni resumed his seat and waited quietly, indifferent to the last.