The syndic admitted Donna Elisa immediately, and was as calm and polite as always, although the women were calling in the square, the blind were bemoaning themselves in the waiting-room, and people had run in and out of his room all day.
“How can I be at your service, Signora Antonelli?” he said. Donna Elisa first looked about and wondered to whom he was speaking. Then she told about the testament.
The syndic was neither frightened nor surprised. “That is very interesting,” he said, and stretched out his hand for the paper.
But Donna Elisa held the envelope fast and asked: “Signor Sindaco, what do you intend to do with it? Do you intend to fasten it to the Roman Gate?”
“Yes; what else can I do, signora? It is a dead man’s last wish.”
Donna Elisa would have liked to tell him what a terrible testament it was, but she checked herself to speak of the blind.
“Padre Succi, who directed that the blind should always be allowed in his church, is also a dead man,” she interposed.
“Signora Antonelli, are you beginning with that too?” said the syndic, quite kindly. “It was a mistake; but why did no one tell me that the blind frequent the church of Lucia? Now, since it is decided, I cannot annul the decision; I cannot.”
“But their rights and patents, Signor Sindaco?”
“Their rights are worth nothing. They have to do with the Jesuits’ monastery, but there is no longer such a monastery. And tell me, Signora Antonelli, what will become of me if I yield?”