Chapter I: Prologue

The one man who might know the truth of this story was the one man who could never speak that truth; yet in old age, when his passions were stilled into a quiet curiosity as to his own youth, he would refer to it with those who had never known the Contessina Francesca Sylvestra Caldini, familiarly named the Countess Fanny.

But once, when he mentioned to his grandson Oliver Sellar’s wild accusation against him, the young man asked:

“Would it, sir, have been possible--I wonder--in those days--could she have really been there and then have got away? Escaped?”

“It was a madman’s suggestion,” was the smiling reply.

“But if it had been true, you could never have admitted it, could you, sir? You would have had to lie.”

“That is understood. In those days, as you call them, a woman’s reputation----” The old man broke off. “One’s sense of duty, too----”

The young man laughed suddenly. “Of course it isn’t possible, and no one could have done it--kept such a secret--a whole lifetime.”

The old man smiled sadly. “Don’t you think so?” was his slow reply.

THE COUNTESS FANNY