"His name was certainly Ahasuerus," Benoni replied from the outer door. "But it may be a coincidence, after all. Good-day." He was gone.
I was the first to take up the paper he had thrown upon a chair. There was a passage marked with a red pencil. I read it aloud:—
"... Baron Benoni, the wealthy banker of St. Petersburg, who was many years ago an inmate of a private lunatic asylum in Paris, is reported to be dangerously insane in Rome." That was all. The paper was the Paris Figaro.
"Merciful Heavens!" exclaimed Hedwig, "and I was shut up with that madman in Fillettino!" Nino was already by her side, and in his strong arms she forgot Benoni, and Fillettino, and all her troubles. We were all silent for some time. At last Nino spoke.
"Is it true that the count was here this morning?" he asked, in a subdued voice, for the extraordinary visit and its sequel had made him grave.
"Quite true," I said. "He was here a long time. I would not spoil your pleasure by telling you of it, when you first came."
"What did he—what did my father say?" asked Hedwig, presently.
"My dear children," I answered, thinking I might well call them so, "he said a great many unpleasant things, so that I offered to fight him if he said any more." At this they both laid hold of me and began to caress me; and one smoothed my hair, and the other embraced me, so that I was half smothered.
"Dear Signor Grandi," cried Hedwig, anxiously, "how good and brave you are!" She does not know what a coward I am, you see, and I hope she will never find out, for nothing was ever said to me that gave me half so much pleasure as to be called brave by her, the dear child; and if she never finds out she may say it again, some day. Besides, I really did offer to fight Lira, as I have told you.
"And what is he going to do?" asked Nino, in some anxiety.