"Rico," she said, as soon as she had gathered a little composure, "I have just found out from the pastor that this home—the house, garden, farm, and everything—is yours. It is your inheritance from your father and belongs to you. Your name is recorded in the baptismal record of the church; you are the son of Enrico Trevillo, who was my husband's most intimate friend."
Stineli had almost from the first grasped the meaning of it all, and it gave her an unspeakable happiness. Her face was radiant, and Mrs. Menotti thought, "How beautiful the girl looks!"
Rico sat staring at the mother, speechless and bewildered. Silvio shouted, "All of a sudden the house belongs to Rico; where shall he sleep?"
"Where, Silvio?" repeated the mother. "In all the rooms, if he chooses. He can turn us out on the street at once if he likes."
"Then I should certainly go out on the street with you," said Rico.
"Oh, you good Rico! We will gladly stay if it will give you pleasure. I was thinking on the way home of how we could arrange it if you should wish to have us here. I could buy a half interest in the place, and then one half would belong to you and one half to Silvio."
"Then I will give my half to Stineli," declared Silvio.
"And I my half too," said Rico.
"Hurrah! now everything belongs to Stineli," shouted Silvio, gleefully. "The garden, the house, and everything in it—the chairs, the table, the violin, and you and I too are hers. Now let's sing again!"
Rico, in the meantime, had been thinking, and now hesitatingly asked, "How can it be that Silvio's father's house belongs to me, even if he was my father's best friend?"