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Updated: May 5, 2025
"Sit down," said Montevarchi, with more than usual affability, and setting the example by seating himself upon one of the high-backed chairs which were ranged along the tables. "Sit down, Meschini, and let us have a little conversation." "Willingly, Signor Principe," returned the librarian, obeying the command and placing himself opposite to the prince.
"Is anything the matter?" she asked. "Something very unpleasant has occurred," he answered, looking at Faustina. "Meschini, the librarian, has just died very suddenly in the study where we were." "Meschini?" cried Faustina in surprise and with some anxiety. "Yes. Are you nervous, Donna Faustina? May I tell you something very startling?" It was a man's question.
The dreaded moment had come, and it had been very terrible, but San Giacinto's tone was reassuring. He could not have suspected anything, though the servants said that he was an inscrutable man, profound in his thoughts and fearful in his anger. He was the one of all the family whom Meschini most feared. "God have mercy on him!" whined the librarian, trembling to his feet.
He will do homage for his titles next Epiphany." "Yes. He must present his ten pounds of wax and a silver bowl cheap!" observed Meschini with a grin. It may be explained here that the families of the Roman nobility were all subject to a yearly tribute of merely nominal value, which they presented to the Pope at the Feast of the Epiphany.
"I think your Excellency was present when I was examined by the prefect," answered Meschini in a curiously disagreeable tone. "True," said Faustina. "You said you had been here all day as usual. I had forgotten. How horrible it was. And you saw nobody, you heard nothing? But I suppose it is too far from the study."
No, Meschini, it is ordained that I, and I alone, should be the means of expressing to you the heartfelt thanks of those whom you have so highly benefited, but who unfortunately can never know the name of their benefactor. Tell me now, did the men of the law look long at the documents? Did they show any hesitation?
Meschini said nothing, for he understood the situation, which was by no means a novel one. His friend produced a pack of Italian cards, almost black with age. He gave Meschini the only chair, and seated himself upon a three-legged stool. It was a dismal scene.
Meschini hesitated only a moment, and then decided to substitute the original for the copy. Should the keeper of the archives chance to look at the parchment and discover the absence of the seal, Meschini could easily excuse himself by saying that he had mistaken the two, and indeed with that one exception they were very much alike.
Montevarchi suspected him of possessing some of the hereditary boldness of the Saracinesca. He might refuse to be a party in a deception, even though he himself was to benefit by it, a consideration which chilled the old man's blood and determined him at once to confide the secret to no one but Arnoldo Meschini, who was completely in his power.
For although it might not pass muster in a court of law the courts you know, Meschini, are very sensitive about little things " he looked keenly at his companion, whose eyes were cast down. "Foolishly sensitive," echoed the librarian. "Yes.
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