You are simple Don Leone, and I am plain Don Giovanni.
That is what it means."
"Good God!" cried the old man in extreme horror. "If you should be
right--"
"I am right," replied Giovanni, very pale.
With wild eyes and trembling hands the prince spread the document
upon the table and read it over again. He turned it and went on to
the end, his excitement bringing back in the moment such
scholarship as he had once possessed and making every sentence as
clear as the day.
"Not even San Giacinto--not even a title!" he exclaimed
desperately. He fell back in his chair, crushed by the tremendous
blow that had fallen so unexpectedly upon him in his old age.
"Not even San Giacinto," repeated Giovanni, stupidly. His presence
of mind began to forsake him, too, and he sank down, burying his
face in his hands. As in a dream he saw his cousin installed in
the very chair where his father now sat, master of the house in
which he, Giovanni, had been born, like his father before him,
master of the fortresses and castles, the fair villas and the
broad lands, the palaces and the millions to which Giovanni had
thought himself heir, lord over the wealth and inheritances of his
race, dignified by countless titles and by all the consideration
that falls to the lot of the great in this world.
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