I do not remember
to have noticed it. This may have been due to the fact that I had
never heard that Leone had any living descendants, and should
therefore have attached no importance to the words if I had seen
them."
"I believe you," said San Giacinto, calmly. The old man's eyes
flashed.
"I always take it for granted that I am believed," he answered.
"Will you give me your word that you are what you assert yourself
to be, Giovanni Saracinesca, the great-grandson and lawful heir of
Leone?"
"Certainly. I pledge my honour that I am; and I, too, expect to be
believed by you."
There was something in the tone of the answer that struck a
sympathetic chord in Saracinesca's nature. San Giacinto had risen
to his feet, and there was something in the huge, lean strength of
him, in the bold look of his eyes, in the ring of his deep voice,
that inspired respect. Rough he was, and not over refined or
carefully trained in the ways of the world, cruel perhaps, and
overbearing too; but he was every inch a Saracinesca, and the old
man felt it.
"I believe you," answered the prince. "You may take possession
when you please. I am Don Leone, and you are the head of the
house."
He made a gesture full of dignity, as though resigning then and
there his name and the house in which he lived, to him who was
lawfully entitled to both.
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