his turn, hastily pocketed the
documents, repeated a string of "well, well, well, wells," and abruptly
left the room. To appease his own conscience Franco at once set to work
trying to convince himself that Signor Beniamino was entirely in the
wrong. He had done wrong in not having given him the documents much
sooner, and now he was doing wrong in taking offence. As he was quite
sure he should make his peace with the inconclusive philosopher, he
thought no more about him, put out the lamp, and, returning to his
easy-chair, became once more engrossed in his previous meditations.

Now he was beginning to see clearly. He could not with dignity make use
of that will, which, both in form and in substance was dishonouring to
his grandmother, arousing as it did, when the letter was considered, a
suspicion of criminal suppression. The will also reflected little honour
upon his father. No, never. He must tell the professor to burn both
documents.

"Thus, Madam Grandmother, shall I triumph over you!" thought Franco,
"Making you a free gift of the property, and of your honour as well,
without even taking the trouble to tell you of it!" Revelling in this
thought Franco felt almost as if he were lifted above the earth, and he
drew a long breath, vastly pleased with himself, his soul illumined and
soothed by a sentiment of mingled generosity and pride. With all his
faith and his acts of Christian piety, he was very far from suspecting
that such a sentiment was not entirely good, and that a less
self-conscious magnanimity would have been more noble.

He let himself sink back in his easy-chair, more disposed to rest than
he had been before, thinking quietly of what he had read, of what he had
heard, as one who has been on the verge of embarking upon some perilous
speculation, and looks back upon the anxiety and the calamities from
which he has escaped forever. Old memories were also beginning to stir
in the depths of his soul. He recalled a certain tale an old servant had
told concerning the riches of the house of Maironi, which, she said, had
been stolen from the poor. He was a child then, and the woman had not
hesitated to speak in his presence. But the child had received a deep
impression, and this impression had been re-awakened in his early
boyhood, by the words of a priest, who had confided to him, with an air
of great secrecy and solemnity, and perhaps not without intention, that
the Maironi fortune was the fruit of a law-sui