"I agree to your proposal, my dear Marchese," he said, with unusual blandness of manner.
"I will settle one hundred and fifty thousand scudi in the way I stated," said San Giacinto, simply. The prince started from his chair.
"One—hundred—and—fifty—thousand!" he repeated slowly. "Why, it is a fortune in itself! Dear me! I had no idea you would name anything so large—-"
"Seven thousand five hundred scudi a year, at five per cent," remarked the younger man in a businesslike tone. "You give the same. That will insure our children an income of fifteen thousand scudi. It is not colossal, but it should suffice. Besides, I have not said that I would not leave them more, if I chanced to have more to leave."
The prince had sunk back into his chair, and sat drumming on the table with his long thin fingers. His face wore an air of mingled surprise and bewilderment. To tell the truth, he had expected that San Giacinto would name about fifty thousand as the sum requisite. He did not know whether to be delighted at the prospect of marrying his daughter so well or angry at the idea of having committed himself to part with so much money.
"That is much more than I gave my other daughters," he said at last, in a tone of hesitation.
"Did you give the money to them or to their husbands?" inquired San
Giacinto.
"To their husbands, of course."
"Then allow me to point out that you will now be merely settling money in your own family, and that the case is very different. Not only that, but I am settling the same sum upon your family, instead of taking your money for my own use. You are manifestly the gainer by the transaction."
"It would be the same, then, if I left Flavia the money at my death, since it remains in the family," suggested the prince, who sought an escape from his bargain.