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Updated: June 19, 2025
They walked on for some paces in silence. "In the Palazzo Rosso at Vallanza, to this day," she continued, "you will be shown the throne-room, with the great scarlet throne, and the gilded coronet topping the canopy above it. But the Counts of Sampaolo were good men and wise rulers; and, under them, for more than seven hundred years, the island was free, prosperous, and happy.
That" she smiled "shall be the aim of our plotting." And again for some time they walked on without speaking. "If she could only guess how little my heart's desire is centred upon the lands and houses of Sampaolo," thought Anthony, "how entirely it is centred upon something much nearer home. I wonder what she would do if I should tell her."
"Every syllable you pronounced," vowed he, "was of palpitating interest, and you broke off at the most palpitating moment. You were on the point of telling me how, from an Island of the Blessed, Sampaolo came to be an Island of the Distressed when we were interrupted by a skylark." "That would be a terribly long story," Susanna premonished him, shaking her head.
They have another palace in the town of Vallanza, their winter palace, the Palazzo Rosso; and a splendid old mediaeval castle, Castel San Guido, on the hill behind the town; and two or three delightful villas in different parts of the island. A highly enviable family, are they not? Orange-trees are in blossom at Sampaolo the whole year round, in blossom and in fruit at the same time.
"But you only look at it from a selfish point of view," said Susanna. "Think of poor Sampaolo under the old régime, an Island of the Blessed." "Seriously, is there at Sampaolo, the faintest sentiment in favour of a return to the old régime?" he asked. "Seriously, and more 's the pity, not the faintest," Susanna confessed.
"A moral? Oh?" said he. "No. I had supposed it was beauty for beauty's sake." "Ah, but beauty sometimes points a moral in spite of itself. The very obvious moral of this is that where there 's a will there 's a way." She looked up, making her eyes grave; then smiled again. "We must resume our plotting. I think I have found the way by which the Conte di Sampaolo can regain his inheritance."
"But that was utterly invalid a mere piece of political stage-play. The Italian government had no more power to proscribe your title than it would have to proscribe an English peerage, no jurisdiction. It could create a new Count of Sampaolo, which it did; but it could n't abolish the dignity of the existing Count a dignity that was ancient centuries before the Italian government was dreamed of.
"No, I have never been there," he answered, so far truthfully enough. "But but I know I used to know a man whose a man who had," he concluded lamely. For, when he did stop to reflect, "If you care for an amusing situation," he reflected, "you 'll leave her in the dark touching your personal connection with Sampaolo."
"What did the counts do, after they were 'hurled, I believe, is the consecrated expression after they were hurled from their scarlet thrones?" "Ah," said Susanna, seriously, "there you bring me to the chapter of the story that is shameful." "Oh ?" said he, looking up. "The revolution at Sampaolo was headed by the Count's near kinsman," she said.
She can't make her properties over to me if I refuse to accept them." "No, I suppose she cannot," said Father Angelo. His hand came forth from his sleeve, to stroke his beard, thoughtfully. "But the properties are in all right and justice yours. Why should you not accept them? You are the legitimate Conte di Sampaolo. You are entitled to your own." "My dear Father!"
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