"
But Fatia Negra now picked up the ducat which had fallen to the ground
and showed it with a smile to Anicza: "Look," said he, "there is now a
double picture on it."
The girl turned it curiously between her fingers.
"And what will happen to it now?"
"It will go into the smelting furnace again."
"Ah, don't destroy it, give it to me!"
At this the old man fairly lost his temper.
"Are you out of your mind to ask for such a thing? What! a ducat with a
flaw in it, which, if seen in your hands would saddle us with the
vengeance of the whole government! Domnule, be not so mad as to let her
have that ducat! If she has no sense, you at least be sensible. You
might ruin the whole lot of us with it."
"Well, Anicza will not wear it on her head, I suppose, or even on her
neckerchief, but will fasten it to a little bit of thread and wear it
next her heart, there nobody will find it but myself."
Onucz would very much have liked to say: "Neither have you any right to
look there, Domnule, for you have not yet spoken to the priest about
it"--but this was the one thing he durst not say.
But Anicza gratefully kissed Fatia Negra's hand like a child who has
received a gift, not indeed for the ducat, but for the boundless
confidence he had shown in giving it to her, which was the surest token
of his love. Then she drew forth a little Turkish dagger, bored a hole
with it through the ducat and fastened it to a little piece of thin
black cord by the side of her little crucifix which she wore upon her
bosom--and hid both of them away again.
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