Then Franco, his lips against her hair, related the story the Professor had told him on the night of their marriage. In repeating from memory the contents of his grandfather's letter and will, he greatly softened the injurious expressions used against his father and grandmother. In the middle of his recital Luisa, who had not expected such a revelation, raised her head from her husband's shoulder. He stopped. "Go on," said she.
When he had finished she asked if there was any proof that his grandfather's will had been suppressed. Franco promptly answered that there was not. "Then," said she, "why did you speak of the ideas I might conceive?" Her thoughts had immediately flown to the probability of his grandmother's crime, to the possibility of a prosecution. But if prosecution were not possible?
Franco did not answer, and she exclaimed, after a moment's reflection, "Ah! the copy of the will! Could that be used? Would that be valid?"
"Yes."
"And you would not use it?"
"No."
"Why not, Franco?"
"There!" Franco exclaimed. "You see? I knew you would say so! No, I will not make use of it! No, no, never!"
"But what reasons have you for not doing so?"
"Good Lord! My reasons! My reasons can be felt. You should feel them without my having to explain them."