despised such vanities, but an historic past had great seduction for
him; a militant race fascinated him against his conscience, and
aristocracy allured him despite all his better judgement; it seemed
to him that if he had learned that he had come from a knightly _gens_
such as this of the Tor'alba, he would have been more strongly moved
to self-glorification than would have become a servant of the Church.
He himself had no knowledge even of his own near parentage; he had
been a forsaken child, left one dark autumn night in the iron cradle
of the gates of a foundling hospital in Reggio Calabrese. His names
had been bestowed on him by the chaplain of the institution; and his
education had been given him by an old nobleman of the town,
attracted by his appearance and intelligence as a child. He was now
fifty years of age; and he had never known anything of kith and kin,
or of the mingled sweetness and importunity of any human tie.

Adone sat silent, looking up at the fortress of his forefathers. He
was more moved than his words showed.

"If we were lords of the land and the town and the people, we were
also lords of the river," was what he was thinking; and that thought
moved him to strong pride and pleasure, for he loved the river with a
great love, only equalled by that which he felt for his mother.

"They were lords of the river?" he asked aloud.

"Undoubtedly," answered the priest. "It was one of the highways of
the province from east to west and _vice versâ_ in that time; the
signoria of this Rocca took toll, kept the fords and bridges and
ferries; none could pass up and down under Ruscino without being seen
by the sentinels on the ramparts here. The Edera was different then;