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    about Madame Coccoz, I will turn you out of the house! Be careful!”
    Therese retreated in confounded amazement. I shut myself up in my
    room, with the “Golden Legend” opened before me. I was stunned. This,
    then, was the secret of Princess Trepof! An old almanac-peddler’s wife, the
    signora Coccoz, had become a millionaire and a princess. Nothing more
    natural in our democratic society, where all is possible. But was it very
    probable? Above all, was it likely that this same person, having heard me
    tell Madame Trepof all about the manuscript in Sicily, did, on arriving in
    Paris, conceive the generous fancy of giving me back my cherished dream,
    my long-desired treasure? All this seemed to me in the highest degree
    improbable; yet it was the truth. And I, who glory in my reason, had
    never once suspected the secret.

    I devoted myself to accomplishing the task imposed by my gratitude to
    the singular and touching Princess Trepof—the task of publishing the
    “Golden Legend” of Jacque de Voragine, completed by the Clerk
    Alexander. The work was long and arduous; but I brought to it all the
    devotion of which my heart and mind were capable.

    Now, as I write these last lines, the task is finished. The work is
    published, and already it has won the approval of the learned world. It is
    not for me to speak of its scientific value; but this I can declare: never, in
    the course of my long career, have I undertaken a task that brought me
    greater joy. I think of it as a monument raised, not to my own glory, but to
    honor the noble and generous deed of a woman who, beneath the frivolous
    appearance of Madame Trepof, hid the warm heart and the fine mind of
    Jeanne Alexandre Coccoz.

    My career draws to its close. I have not many more joys to expect from
    life; but among those few I count this strange and happy adventure of the
    “Legende Doree.” And, lost in these reflections, I imagine I can see, under
    the golden skies of Sicily, the laughing face of Madame Trepof, forever
    mingled in my memory with the fragrance of violets.

    [The End]

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