“Pardon,” said the earl; “what relation was Prince Antonio to Luigi Saviola?” “He was the granduncle of Luigi, who was his next of kin. When I reached the Palazzo Saviola I was at once ushered into the presence of the prince, who received me in his library with much cordiality. He entered at once upon the subject in his mind by saying: “‘You were the attendant of my grandnephew, Luigi, on the occasion of his marriage with the only daughter of an English earl?’ “‘Yes, sir,’ I answered, a little surprised that he should know the fact. “‘So I was informed by a letter from my nephew soon after the occurrence. You were also his second in the fatal duel in Paris, about a year later, in which my nephew lost his life?’ “‘No, prince. I was not in Paris at the time of that unhappy meeting,’ I answered. “‘Then I have been misinformed upon that point. But there is no question of your having been a witness to his marriage?’ “‘No question at all, prince. I was present in the interests of the lady, taking the place of her father or brother, one of whom should have been there to give her away.’ “‘Precisely. That is how I understood from Luigi your presence at this Montague and Capulet marriage. I have lost sight of the widow entirely. I last heard of her at Geneva. In a letter written to me by my unhappy nephew on the night before his duel he told me that his wife was at the Beau Rivage, Geneva, expecting the birth of a child; that if he should survive the meeting of the next day he would hurry to her side. If he should fall, he recommended her to my sympathy and compassion. This letter found me prostrate with typhoid fever, and did not meet my eyes for weeks after it was written. My nephew was dead and buried. His widow had left Geneva, accompanied by her father and her infant. All my efforts to find them proved fruitless, and at last I gave up inquiry. Only lately have I become again interested in the subject. The reason is this: I am very aged, near ninety. My sons and grandsons have all gone before me to the better land. The last, Vittorio, departed some months since. I have no heirs, unless it happens that the posthumous child of Luigi proves to be a son and is now living. It is to ascertain this point that I have called you here to-day.’