"I leave to my agent in Valsolda, Carlino Gilardoni, upon the same condition as above, four Milanese Lire a day, during his natural life.
"I desire that, during the life of Donna Orsola Maironi Scremin, a Mass be celebrated daily in the Cathedral of Brescia, for the good of her soul.
"I name and appoint my grandson, Don Franco Maironi, son of Don Alessandro, residuary legatee of all the rest of my property.
"As witness my hand, this fifteenth day of April, 1828.
"Franco Maironi."
Franco read—and, half dazed and without a word, passed the sheet of paper back to the Professor. He was shaken, but felt vaguely that he must control himself, that he must restrain his own agitation, collect his thoughts, and strive to get a clear view of this matter and of himself.
"What do you say to that?" the Professor exclaimed.
At this point Gilardoni's intense excitement reached a climax.
"Why did I not speak before, eh?" he continued. "The thing is that I can't possibly give a clear, precise and positive reason for not having done so. Those papers were a horror to me! If I myself and my own father and mother had been involved in such a question, I would rather have let a million slip than ask for it with those documents in my hand. There! I have been a fool again, to have said that! Just forget those last words, for in your place ... it is a different thing. I was speaking for myself. Good Lord, of course I was speaking for myself! Well, I thought—see what an ass I was—I thought your grandmother just doted on you, and that your grandfather's property would go to you anyway. And with that idea...! After a while I consulted Signora Teresa, and showed her the letter and the will. She said I should have informed you at once, as soon as I had made the discovery, but that she could not give me any advice because now her daughter was, in a way, an interested party. Besides, she said.... But that is of no consequence. In short I saw the will was a horror to her also. Anyway, I was convinced your grandmother would end by accepting this marriage, and I did not speak. Tonight you come and tell me the Marchesa has used threats. Fancy that! Now you understand that I could not wait, that I could not keep these documents a moment longer. There—they are yours—take them!"
Franco, absorbed in his own thoughts, heard only these last words. "No," said he, "I will not take them. I know myself too well. With them in my possession I might be led into doing something rash, or into acting prematurely. You keep them for the present." Gilardoni would not hear of keeping them, and drove Franco into one of his fits of impatience. There was indeed nothing so irritating to his nerves as the inconclusive outpourings of kind-hearted but brainless persons. Gilardoni's opposition angered him, and he gave him to understand that this wish to rid himself of the documents at all costs, was selfishness pure and simple, and that those who have blundered must bear the consequences. The words he uttered amounted to this, but the angry and harsh expression of his face said much more. Gilardoni, whose face was crimson, shuddered at the accusation of selfishness, but controlled himself and putting on a grim frown in his turn, hastily pocketed the documents, repeated a string of "well, well, well, wells," and abruptly left the room. To appease his own conscience Franco at once set to work trying to convince himself that Signor Beniamino was entirely in the wrong. He had done wrong in not having given him the documents much sooner, and now he was doing wrong in taking offence. As he was quite sure he should make his peace with the inconclusive philosopher, he thought no more about him, put out the lamp, and, returning to his easy-chair, became once more engrossed in his previous meditations.