Malipieri seated himself on a small chair at a discreet distance.

"I happened to know that they were going out," he said, "so I came."

Sabina looked at him in surprise. It was an odd way to begin a conversation.

"I wanted to see you alone," he explained. "I thought perhaps you would come down."

"It was an accident," Sabina answered. "I had left my book here. No one told me that you had come."

"Of course not. I took the chance that a lucky accident might happen.

It has, but I hope you are not displeased. If you are, you can turn me out."

"I could go back to my room." Sabina laughed. "Why should I be displeased?"

"I have not the least idea whether you like me or not," answered Malipieri.

Sabina wondered whether all men talked like this, or whether it were not more usual to begin with a few generalities. She was really quite sure that she liked Malipieri, but it was a little embarrassing to be called upon to tell him so at once.

"If I wanted you to go away, I should not sit down," she said, still smiling.

"I hate conventions," answered Malipieri, "and I fancy that you do, too. We were both brought up in them, and I suppose we think alike about them."

"Perhaps."

Sabina turned over the book she still held, and looked at the back of it.

"Exactly," continued Malipieri. "But I do not mean that what we are doing now is so dreadfully unconventional after all. Thank heaven, manners have changed since I was a boy, and even in Italy we may be allowed to talk together a few minutes without being suspected of planning a runaway marriage. I wanted to see you alone because I wish you to do something very much more 'improper,' as society calls it."

Sabina looked up with innocent and inquiring eyes, but said nothing in answer.

"I have found something," he said. "I should like you to see it."

"There is nothing so very terrible in that," replied Sabina, looking at him steadily.

"The world would think differently. But if you will trust me the world need never know anything about it. You will have to come alone. That is the difficulty."

"Alone?" Sabina repeated the word, and instinctively drew herself up a little.

"Yes."

A short silence followed, and Malipieri waited for her to speak, but she hesitated. In years, she was but lately out of childhood, but the evil of the world had long been near her in her mother's house, and she knew well enough that if she did what he asked, and if it were known, her reputation would be gone. She was a little indignant at first, and was on the point of showing it, but as she met his eyes once more she felt certain that he meant no offence to her.

"You must have a very good reason for asking me to do such a dangerous thing," she said at last.

"The reasons are complicated," answered Malipieri.

"Perhaps I could understand, if you explained them."

"Yes, I am sure you can. I will try. In the first place, you know of the story about a treasure being concealed in the palace. I spoke of it the other day, and you laughed at it. When I began, I was not inclined to believe it myself, for it seems never to have been anything more than a tradition. One or two old chronicles speak of it.

A Venetian ambassador wrote about it in the sixteenth century in one of his reports to his government, suggesting that the Republic should buy the palace if it were ever sold. I daresay you have heard that."

"No. It does not matter. You say you have found something--that is the important point."

"Yes; and the next thing is to keep the secret for the present, because so many people would like to know it. The third point of importance is that you should see the treasure before it is moved, before I can move it myself, or even see all of it."

"What is this treasure?" asked Sabina, with a little impatience, for she was really interested.

"All I have seen of it is the hand of what must be a colossal statue, of gilt bronze. On one of the fingers there is a ring with a stone which I believe to be a ruby. If it is, it is worth a great deal, perhaps as much as the statue itself."

Sabina's eyes had opened very wide in her surprise, for she had never really believed the tale, and even when he had told her that he had found something she had not thought it could be anything very valuable.

"Are you quite sure you have seen it?" she asked with childlike wonder.

"Yes. I lowered a light into the place, but I did not go down. There may be other things. They belong to you."

"To me? Why?" asked Sabina in surprise.

"For a good many reasons which may or may not be good in law but which are good enough for me. You were robbed of your dowry--forgive the expression. I cannot think of another word. The Senator got possession of the palace for much less than its market value, let alone what I have found. He sent for me because I have been fortunate in finding things, and he believed it just possible that there might be something hidden in the foundations. Your family spent long ago what he lent them on the mortgage, and Sassi assures me that you never had a penny of it. I mean you to have your share now. That is all."

Sabina listened quietly enough to the end.

"Thank you, very much," she said gravely, when he had finished.

Then there was another pause. To her imagination the possibilities of wealth seemed fabulous, and even Malipieri thought them large; but Sabina was not thinking of a fortune for its own sake. Of late none of her family had cared for money except to spend it without counting.

What struck her first was that she would be free to leave the Volterras' house, that she would be independent, and that there would be an end of the almost unbearable situation in which she had lived since the crash.

"If the Senator can keep it all for himself, he will," Malipieri observed, "and his wife will help him."

"Do you think this had anything to do with their anxiety to have me stay with them?" asked Sabina, and as the thought occurred to her the expression of her eyes changed.

"The Baroness knows nothing at all about the matter," answered Malipieri. "I fancy she only wanted the social glory of taking charge of you when your people came to grief. But her husband will take advantage of the obligation you are under. I suspect that he will ask you to sign a paper of some sort, very vaguely drawn up, but legally binding, by which you will make over to him all claim whatever on your father's estate."

"But I have none, have I?"

"If the facts were known to-morrow, your brother might at once begin an action to recover, on the equitable ground that by an extraordinary chain of circumstances the property has turned out to be worth much more than any one could have expected. Do you understand?"

"Yes. Go on."

"Very well. The Senator knows that in all probability the court would decide against your brother, who has the reputation of a spendthrift, unless your claim is pushed; but that any honest judge, if it were legally possible, would do his best to award you something. If you had made over your claim to Volterra, that would be impossible, and would only strengthen his case."

"I see," said Sabina. "It is very complicated."

"Of course it is. And there are many other sides to it. The Senator, on his part, is as anxious to keep the whole matter a secret as I am, for your sake. He has no idea that there is a colossal statue in the vaults. He probably hopes to find gold and jewels which could be taken away quietly and disposed of without the knowledge of the government."

"What has the government to do with it?"

"It has all sorts of claims on such discoveries, and especially on works of art. It reserves the right to buy them from the owners at a valuation, if they are sold at all."