He had subsequently studied law and had practised for
some time, when he had suddenly abandoned his profession in order
to accept the ill-paid post of librarian and secretary to the
father of the present Prince Montevarchi. Probably his love of
mediaeval lore had got the better of his desire for money, and
during the five and twenty years he had spent in the palace he had
never been heard to complain of his condition. He lived in a small
chamber in the attic and passed his days in the library, winter
and summer alike, perpetually poring over the manuscripts and
making endless extracts in his odd, old-fashioned handwriting. The
result of his labours was never published, and at first sight it
would have been hard to account for his enormous industry and for
the evident satisfaction he derived from his work. The nature of
the man, however, was peculiar, and his occupation was undoubtedly
congenial to him, and far more profitable than it appeared to be.
Arnoldo Meschini was a forger. He was one of that band of
manufacturers of antiquities who have played such a part in the
dealings of foreign collectors during the last century, and whose
occupation, though slow and laborious, occasionally produces
immense profits. He had not given up his calling with the
deliberate intention of resorting to this method of earning a
subsistence, but had drifted into his evil practices by degrees.
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