I am the richest man in the world. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. It rained heavily all day, so he did not stir forth. ‘I take it that you like this great-niece of mine?’ ‘One cannot help but do so. It heralded you, promised you. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. He had very nearly cleared the board, when a knock was heard below, and descending at the summons, he found his two janizaries. He smiled.
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