the parchment
from the table, tearing it to pieces, and trampling on it).

Fidelia, astonished at the turn events were taking, leaned back in her
chair, and looked on silently. Her time for fainting had not yet come.

"Draw and defend yourself, caitiff!" exclaimed Signor Rodicaso,
brandishing his sword.

"Anywhere but in the presence of a lady," was the sarcastic reply.
"Besides, I have claims on you, which, perhaps may teach you to
respect me."

"Claims! Thou liest! What claims?"

"These! Hast seen them before? Ha! ha!" shouted Alberto, shaking a
bundle of papers in the face of his rival.

"Allow me to examine them, if you please?" asked Signor Rodicaso, with
forced calmness.

"No, you don't," was the response. "But I'll tell you what they are.
They are judgments to the extent of one hundred and seventy thousand
florins--dost hear? one hundred and seventy thousand florins--against
you, which I have bought for less than quarter price from Jinkerini
Bros, No. 124 Rialto. With them I offset the sum which this unhappy but
excellent merchant" (pointing to the father) "owes you. Here, sir; now
you are released from yon monster's clutches." (Hands package of
judgments to the father, who, overpowered by the scene, takes and holds
them in dumb amazement.)

An expression of silent joy begins to steal over the face of Fidelia.
But her time for fainting had not yet come!

"Boy!" said Signor Rodicaso, with a composure that was perfectly
wonderful, "there is another hand than thine in all this work. Thou art
but the poor tool and I despise thee!"

"Here is the hand!" exclaimed the uncle Bignolio, drawing out his leg
from its seclusion, and bringing his whole body into full view. "Dost
know it?" He held up his right hand, to carry out the idea of
the author.

"It is the hand of Bignolio the usurer," said Signor Rodicaso,
despondingly, seeing now that the game was clearly against him.

"Bignolio the usurer!" exclaimed the father, still wrapped in amazement.

"Bignolio the usurer!" murmured Fidelia, whose woman's wit divined the
mystery of his appearance. But her time to faint had not _yet_ come.

"Bignolio the usurer!" cried the notary, witnesses, and Bidette in
chorus.

"Yes," returned that gentleman; "Bignolio the _usurer,_ who now is proud
to claim the dearer title of 'own uncle' to his nephew Alberto. That
nephew he this day receives into his partnership, and proclaims his only
heir. Come to my arms, adopted s