_Monsignor._ My friend, it is because I avow myself a very worm, sinful beyond measure, that I reject a line of conduct you would applaud perhaps. Shall I proceed, 125 as it were, a-pardoning?--I?--who have no symptom of reason to assume that aught less than my strenuousest efforts will keep myself out of mortal sin, much less keep others out. No: I do trespass, but will not double that by allowing you to trespass. 130 _Intendant._ And suppose the villas are not your brother's to give, nor yours to take? Oh, you are hasty enough just now! _Monsignor._ 1, 2--No. 3!--aye, can you read the substance of a letter, No. 3, I have received from Rome? It 135 is precisely on the ground there mentioned, of the suspicion I have that a certain child of my late elder brother, who would have succeeded to his estates, was murdered in infancy by you, Maffeo, at the instigation of my late younger brother--that the Pontiff enjoins on me not 140 merely the bringing that Maffeo to condign punishment, but the taking all pains, as guardian of the infant's heritage for the Church, to recover it parcel by parcel, howsoever, whensoever, and wheresoever. While you are now gnawing those fingers, the police are engaged in sealing 145 up your papers, Maffeo, and the mere raising my voice brings my people from the next room to dispose of yourself. But I want you to confess quietly, and save me raising my voice. Why, man, do I not know the old story? The heir between the succeeding heir, and this heir's 150 ruffianly instrument, and their complot's effect, and the life of fear and bribes and ominous smiling silence? Did you throttle or stab my brother's infant? Come now! _Intendant._ So old a story, and tell it no better? When did such an instrument ever produce such an 155 effect? Either the child smiles in his face, or, most likely, he is not fool enough to put himself in the employer's power so thoroughly; the child is always ready to produce--as you say--howsoever, wheresoever, and whensoever. _Monsignor._ Liar! 160 _Intendant._ Strike me? Ah, so might a father chastise! I shall sleep soundly tonight at least, though the gallows await me tomorrow; for what a life did I lead! Carlo of Cesena reminds me of his connivance, every time I pay his annuity; which happens commonly thrice a year. If I 165 remonstrate, he will confess all to the good bishop--you! _Monsignor._ I see through the trick, caitiff! I would you spoke truth for once. All shall be sifted, however--seven times sifted.