But the Marchese di Castelmare was one of these
few,--perhaps as much, or more, on the score of old friendship as on
that of rank and social importance.
The old lawyer was not more importantly occupied when he received
the Marchese's message, than by intently examining a bronze medal
through a magnifying-glass; and he sent back word that he would be
with the Marchese immediately. The fact was he did not like the look
of this summons at all. He, too, had observed the unmistakable
change in his old friend; and jumped to the conclusion that what he
was wanted for was to make, or to be consulted about making, the
Marchese's will.
"To think of his breaking up so suddenly, in such a way as this. No
stamina! Why, he must be twenty years my junior; and I don't feel a
day older than I did ten years ago, not a day. He has led a steady
life too; and seemed as likely a man to last as one would wish to
look at. I suppose everything will go to the nephew,--legacies to
servants, and something, I should not wonder, to the town hospital,-
-not that I think he can have saved much, if any thing. I should
like that little cabinet Guido and I don't suppose Signor Ludovico
would care a rush about it."
With these thoughts in his mind Signor Fortini presented himself at
the door of the Castelmare palace within ten minutes of the time
when he had received the summons of the Marchese, and was
immediately ushered into the library.
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