"Thank you," said Uncle John; "I believe I will."
He stepped upon the veranda and sat down opposite his host.
"I came to see Count Ferralti, who is hurt, I understand," he continued.
"It is true, signore, but not badly. The poor count is injured mostly in
his mind. Presently you shall see him."
"No hurry," observed Uncle John. "Pleasant place you have here, Duke."
"It is very good of you to praise it, signore. It is my most ancient
patrimony, and quite retired and exclusive."
"So I see."
"The house you have honored by your presence, signore, was erected some
three hundred and thirty years ago, by an ancestor who loved
retirement. It has been in my family ever since. We all love
retirement."
"Very desirable spot for a brigand, I'm sure," remarked the American,
puffing his pipe composedly.
"Brigand? Ah, it pleases you to have humor, signore, mia. Brigand! But I
will be frank. It is no dishonor to admit that my great ancestors of
past centuries were truly brigands, and from this quiet haven sallied
forth to do mighty deeds. They were quite famous, I am told, those olden
Dukes d'Alcanta."
"I do not question it."
"Our legends tell of how my great ancestors demanded tribute of the rich
who passed through their domain--for all this end of Sicily was given to
us by Peter of Aragon, and remained in our possession until the second
Ferdinand robbed us of it.
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