"I am quite ready to believe it. The transaction has been as providential for me as for the Signor Marchese."
"Yes," answered the prince rather drily. "And now, my dear Meschini, will you leave me for a time? I have appointed this hour to see my last remaining daughter concerning her marriage. She is the last of those fair flowers! Ah me! How sad a thing it is to part with those we love so well! But we have the consolation of knowing that it is for their good, that consolation, that satisfaction which only come to us when we have faithfully done our duty. Return to your library, therefore, Meschini, for the present. The consciousness of good well done is yours also to-day, and will soothe the hours of solitude and make your new labours sweet. The reward of righteousness is in itself and of itself. Good-bye, my friend, good-bye! Thank you, thank you—"
"Would it be agreeable to your Excellency to let me have the money now?" asked the librarian. There was a firmness in the tone that startled Montevarchi.
"What money?" he inquired with a well-feigned surprise. "I do not understand."
"Twenty thousand scudi, the price of the work," replied Meschini with alarming bluntness.
"Twenty thousand scudi!" cried the prince. "I remember that there was some mention of a sum—two thousand, I think I said. Even that is enormous, but I was carried away in the excitement of the moment. We are all liable to such weakness—"
"You agreed to pay me twenty thousand scudi in cash on the day that the verdict was given in favour of your son-in-law."
"I never agreed to anything of the kind. My dear friend, success has quite turned your head! I have not so much money at my disposal in the whole world."
"You cannot afford to make a fool of me," cried Meschini, making a step forward. His face was red with anger, and his long arms made odd gestures. "Will you pay me the money or not?"
"If you take this tone with me I will pay you nothing whatever. I shall even cease to feel any sense of gratitude—"