adness, not anger, as she uttered these words.

"In any way, that document no longer exists," Franco remarked.

Luisa started. "It no longer exists?" said she anxiously, in an
undertone.

"No. The Professor was to destroy it, by my orders."

A long silence followed. Very slowly Luisa withdrew her head and rested
it on her own pillow. Suddenly Franco exclaimed, aloud: "A law-suit
indeed! With those documents! With those insults! To the mother of my
father! And all for money!"

"Don't keep repeating that," his wife exclaimed indignantly. "Why do you
keep repeating that? Don't you know very well it is not true?"

Both spoke excitedly. It was plain that during the preceding silence
their thoughts had been hard at work on this point. The reproof
irritated him, and he replied blindly--

"I know nothing about it!"

"Oh, Franco!" cried Luisa, much hurt. He already regretted the affront,
and begged her to forgive him, accusing his hot temper, which made him
say things he did not mean, and he entreated her to speak a kind word to
him. "Yes, yes," Luisa answered with a sigh, but he was not satisfied,
and wished her to embrace him and say, "I forgive you." The touch of the
dear lips did not refresh him as usual. Some minutes passed, and then he
strained his ear to hear if his wife had fallen asleep. He heard the
wind, Maria's quiet breathing, the noise of the waves, the jarring of a
window, but that was all. "Have you really forgiven me?" he whispered,
and he heard her soft answer: "Yes, dear." Presently she, in her turn,
listened, and besides the wind, the waves, the creaking of a shutter,
the even, regular breathing of the child, she heard the even, regular
breathing of her husband. Then she once more sighed deeply, sighed
despairingly. Oh, God! How could Franco have acted thus? What wounded
her heart most sorely was the fact that he did not seem to sense the
injuries which her poor mother and Uncle Piero had suffered. But she
would not allow herself to dwell on this thought, at least not until she
had considered his other mistake, his mistaken idea of justice. And here
she felt bitterly, but not without a certain satisfaction, that he was
her inferior, that he was controlled by sentiments that were the outcome
of his fancy, while her own sentiment was inspired by reason. Franco had
in him so much of the child. He had, even now, been able to go to sleep,
while she was sure of not closing her eyes all night long. She belie