“Not at all,” returned San Giacinto.  “I do not wish to have control of her dowry—–­”

“The devil!  Oh—­I see—­how stupid of me—­I am indeed so old that I cannot count any more!  How could I make such a mistake?  Of course, it would be exactly as you say.  Of course it would.”

“It would not be so as a general rule,” said San Giacinto, calmly, “because most men would not consent to such an arrangement.  That, however, is my proposal.”

“Oh!  For the sake of Flavia, a man would do much, I am sure,” answered the prince, who began to think that his visitor was in love with the girl, incredible as such a thing appeared to him.  The younger man made no answer to this remark, however, and waited for Montevarchi to state his terms.

“How much shall we say?” asked the latter at length.

“That shall be for you to decide.  Whatever you give I will give, if I am able.”

“Ah, yes!  But how am I to know what you are able to give, dear Marchese?” The prince suspected that San Giacinto’s offer, if he could be induced to make one, would not be very large.

“Am I to understand,” inquired San Giacinto, “that if I name the amount to be settled so that at my death it goes to my wife and her children by me for ever, you will agree to settle a like sum upon Donna Flavia in her own right?  If so, I will propose what I think fair.”

Montevarchi looked keenly at his visitor for some moments, then looked away and hesitated.  He was very anxious to marry Flavia at once, and he had many reasons for supposing that San Giacinto was not very rich.

“How about the title?” he asked suddenly.

“My title, of course, goes to my eldest son by my first marriage.  But if you are anxious on that score I think my cousin would willingly confer one of his upon the eldest son of your daughter.  It would cost him nothing, and would be a sort of compensation to me for my great-grandfather’s folly.”

“How?” asked Montevarchi.  “I do not understand.”

“I supposed you knew the story.  I am the direct descendant of the elder branch.  There was an agreement between two brothers of the family, by which the elder resigned the primogeniture in favour of the younger who was then married.  The elder, who took the San Giacinto title, married late in life and I am his great-grandson.  If he had not acted so foolishly I should be in my cousin’s shoes.  You see it would be natural for him to let me have some disused title for one of my children in consideration of this fact.  He has about a hundred, I believe.  You could ask him, if you please.”

San Giacinto’s grave manner assured Montevarchi of the truth of the story.  He hesitated a moment longer, and then made up his mind.

“I agree to your proposal, my dear Marchese,” he said, with unusual blandness of manner.

“I will settle one hundred and fifty thousand scudi in the way I stated,” said San Giacinto, simply.  The prince started from his chair.