I am not a common man. I have a great ancestry--the Doria
of Dolceaqua in the Alpes Maritimes. You have heard of the Doria?"
"I'm afraid not--history isn't my strong suit."
"On the banks of the River Nervia the Doria had their mighty castle
and ruled the land of Dolceaqua. A fighting people. There was a
Doria who slew the Prince of Monaco. But great families--they are
like nations--their history is a sand hill in the hour-glass of
time. They arise and crumble by the process of their own
development. Si! Time gives the hour-glass a shake and they are
gone--to the last grain. I am the last grain. We sank and sank till
only I remain. My father was a cab driver at Bordighera. He died in
the war and my mother, too, is dead. I have no brothers, but one
sister. She disgraced herself and is, I hope, now dead also. I know
her not. So I am left, and the fate of that so mighty family lies
with me alone--a family that once reigned as sovereign princes."
Brendon was sitting beside the boatman in the bows of the launch,
and he could not but admire the Italian's amazing good looks.
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