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diff --git a/46693.txt b/46693.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b88f371..0000000 --- a/46693.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,15084 +0,0 @@ - THE PASSPORT - - - - -This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at -http://www.gutenberg.org/license. If you are not located in the United -States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are -located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Passport -Author: Richard Bagot -Release Date: August 23, 2014 [EBook #46693] -Language: English -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PASSPORT *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - - THE PASSPORT - - - BY - - RICHARD BAGOT - - - - NEW YORK AND LONDON - HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS - MCMV - - - - - Copyright, 1905, by HARPER & BROTHERS. - - _All rights Reserved._ - - Published September, 1905. - - - - - *THE PASSPORT* - - - - *I* - - -The fierce heat of the mid-day hours was waning, and the leaves stirred -in the first faint breath of the evening breeze stealing over the Roman -Campagna from the sea that lay like a golden streak along the western -horizon. It was the month of the _sollione_--of the midsummer sun -"rejoicing as a giant to run his course." From twelve o'clock till four -the little town of Montefiano, nestling among the lower spurs of the -Sabine Hills, had been as a place from which all life had fled. Not a -human creature had been visible in the steep, tufa-paved street leading -up to the square palace that looked grimly down on the little township -clustering beneath it--not even a dog; only some chickens dusting -themselves, and a strayed pig. - -The _cicale_, hidden among the branches of a group of venerable Spanish -chestnuts on the piazza in front of the church, had never ceased their -monotonous rattle; otherwise silence had reigned at Montefiano since the -church bells had rung out _mezzogiorno_--that silence which falls on all -nature in Italy during the hours when the _sollione_ blazes in the -heavens and breeds life on the earth. - -But now, with the first coming of the evening breeze, casements were -thrown open, green shutters which had been hermetically closed since -morning were flung back and Montefiano awoke for the second time in the -twenty-four hours. - -A side door of the church opened, and Don Agostino, the parish priest, -emerged from it, carrying his breviary in one hand and an umbrella -tucked under the other arm. Crossing the little square hurriedly, for -the western sun still beat fiercely upon the flag-stones, he sought the -shade of the chestnut-trees, under which he began pacing slowly -backwards and forwards, saying his office the while. - -A tall, handsome man, Don Agostino was scarcely the type of priest -usually to be met with in hill villages such as Montefiano. His black -silk _soutane_ was scrupulously clean and tidy; and its button-holes -stitched with red, as well as the little patch of violet silk at his -throat, proclaimed him to be a _monsignore_. Nobody at Montefiano -called him so, however. To his parishioners he was simply Don Agostino; -and, in a district in which priests were none too well looked upon, -there was not a man, woman, or child who had not a good word to say for -him. - -This was the more remarkable inasmuch as Don Agostino was evidently of a -very different social grade from even the most well-to-do among his -flock. At first sight, a stranger would have thought that there could -not be much in common between him and the peasants and farmers who stood -in a little crowd at the doors of his church on a _festa_ while he said -mass, and still less with the women and children who knelt within the -building. There was, however, the most important thing of all in common -between them, and that was sympathy--human sympathy--so simple a thing, -and yet so rare. - -This, again, was remarkable; for no one could glance at Don Agostino's -countenance without at once realizing that it belonged to a man who was -probably intellectual and certainly refined. It would not be imagined, -for instance, that there could be any fellow-feeling between him and the -woman a few yards down the street who, indifferent as to the scantiness -of the garments by way of clothing a well-developed bust, was leaning -out of a window screaming objurgations at a small boy for chasing the -strayed pig. Nevertheless, Don Agostino would doubtless have entered -into the feelings of both the woman and the boy--and, probably, also -into those of the pig--had he noticed the uproar, which, his thoughts -being concentrated for the moment on the saying of his office, he did -not do. - -He had been at Montefiano some years now, and the stories current at the -time of his arrival in the place as to the reason why he had been sent -there from Rome were wellnigh forgotten by his parishioners. At first -they held aloof from him suspiciously, as from one who was not of their -condition in life, and who had only been sent to Montefiano -because--well, because of some indiscretion committed at Rome. Some -said it was politics, others that it was women, and others, again, that -it was neither the one nor the other. All agreed that an _instruito_ -like Don Agostino, with his air of a _gran signore_, and money behind -that air, too, was not sent to a place like Montefiano for nothing. - -Don Agostino, however, had not troubled himself as to what was said or -thought, but had taken up his duties with that unquestioning obedience -which spiritual Rome has incorporated with the rest of her heritage from -the Caesars. He neither offered any explanations nor made any complaints -concerning the surroundings to which he found himself relegated. For -two or three years after his first coming to Montefiano strangers had -sometimes visited him, and once or twice a cardinal had come from Rome -to see him--but that was ten years ago and more, and now nobody came. -Probably, the Montefianesi said, the Vatican had forgotten him; and they -added, with a shrug of the shoulders, that it was better for a priest to -be forgotten in Montefiano than remembered in a cup of chocolate in -Rome. - -As to any little affair of morals--well, it was certain that twenty, -nay, even fifteen, years ago Don Agostino must have been a very -good-looking young man, priest or no priest; and shoulders were shrugged -again. - -Whatever had been the cause of it, morals or politics, Monsignor -Agostino was _parroco_ of Montefiano, a Sabine village forty miles from -Rome, with a population of some three thousand souls--a gray mass of -houses clustering on a hill-side, crowned by the feudal fortress of its -owners who had not slept a night within its walls since Don Agostino had -taken over the spiritual interests of their people. - -To be sure, Montefiano was a commune, and petty officialism was as -rampant within its bounds as in many a more important place. But the -princes of Montefiano were lords of the soil, and lords also of its -tillers, as they were of other possessions in the Agro Romano. There -had been a time, not so very many years ago, when a prince of Montefiano -could post from Rome to Naples, passing each night on one of the family -properties; but building-contractors, cards, and cocottes had combined -to reduce the acreage in the late prince's lifetime, and Montefiano was -now one of the last of the estates left to his only child, a girl of -barely eighteen summers. - -The Montefiano family had been singularly unlucky in its last two -generations. The three younger brothers of the late prince had -died--two of them when mere lads, and the third as a married but -childless man. The prince himself had married early in life the -beautiful daughter of a well-known Venetian house, who had brought a -considerable dowry with her, and whom he had deceived and neglected from -the first week of his marriage with her until her death, which had -occurred when the one child born of the union was but a few months old. - -Then, after some years, the prince had married again. He had taken to -religion in later life, when health had suddenly failed him. - -His second wife was a Belgian by birth, and had gained a considerable -reputation for holiness in "black" circles in Rome. Indeed, it was -generally supposed that it was a mere question of time before -Mademoiselle d'Antin should take the veil. Other questions, however, -apparently presented themselves for her consideration, and she took the -Principe di Montefiano instead. It appeared that, after all, this, and -not the cloister, was her true vocation; for she piloted the broken-down -_roue_ skilfully, and at the same time rapidly to the entrance, at all -events, to purgatory, where she left the helm in order to enjoy her -widow's portion, and to undertake the guardianship of her youthful -step-daughter Donna Bianca Acorari, now princess of Montefiano in her -own right. - -Some people in Rome said that the deceased Montefiano was bored and -prayed to death by his pious wife and the priests with whom she -surrounded him. These, however, were chiefly the boon companions of the -prince's unregenerate days, whose constitutions were presumably stronger -than his had proved itself to be. - -Rome--respectable Rome--was edified at the ending that the Prince of -Montefiano had made, at the piety of his widow, and also at the fact -that there was more money in the Montefiano coffers than anybody had -suspected could be the case. - -The portion left to the widowed princess was, if not large, at least -considerably larger than had been anticipated even by those who believed -that they knew the state of her husband's affairs better than their -neighbors; and by the time Donna Bianca should be of an age to marry, -her fortune would, or should, be worth the attention of any husband, let -alone the fiefs and titles she would bring into that husband's family. - -The Princess of Montefiano, since her widowhood, had continued to live -quietly on the first floor of the gloomy old palace behind the Piazza -Campitelli, in Rome, which had belonged to the family from the sixteenth -century. The months of August, September, and October she and her -step-daughter usually spent at a villa near Velletri, but except for -this brief period Rome was their only habitation. The princess went -little into the world, even into that of the "black" society, and it was -generally understood that she occupied herself with good works. Indeed, -those who professed to know her intimately declared that had it not been -for the sense of her duty towards her husband's little girl, she would -have long ago retired into a convent, and would certainly do so when -Donna Bianca married. - -In the mean time, the great, square building, with its Renaissance -facade which dominated the little town of Montefiano, remained unvisited -by its possessors, and occupied only by the agent and his family, who -lived in a vast apartment on the ground-floor of the palace. The agent -collected the rents and forwarded them to the princess's man of business -in Rome, and to the good people of Montefiano the saints and the angels -were personalities far more realizable than were the owners of the soil -on which they labored. - -Not that Don Agostino knew the princess any better than did his -parishioners. He always insisted that he had never seen her. His -attitude, indeed, had been a perpetual cause of surprise to the agent, -who, when Don Agostino first came to the place, had not unreasonably -supposed that whenever the priest went to Rome, which he did at long -intervals, becoming ever longer as time went on, one of his first -objects would be to present himself at the Palazzo Acorari. - -Apparently, however, Don Agostino did not deem it necessary to know the -princess or Donna Bianca personally. Possibly he considered that so long -as his formal letters to the princess on behalf of his flock in times of -distress or sickness met with a satisfactory response, there was no -reason to obtrude himself individually on their notice. This, at least, -was the conclusion that the agent and the official classes of Montefiano -arrived at. As to the humbler members of Don Agostino's flock, they did -not trouble themselves to draw any conclusions except the most -satisfactory one involved in the knowledge that, as the Madonna and the -saints stood between them and Domeneddio without their being personally -acquainted with him, so Don Agostino stood between them and the -excellencies in Rome, who, of course, could not spare the time to visit -so distant a place as Montefiano. - - - - - *II* - - -Don Agostino, his office completed, closed his breviary and stood gazing -across the plain below to where Rome lay. On a clear day, and almost -always in the early mornings in summer, the cupola of St. Peter's could -be seen from Montefiano, hung, as it were, midway between earth and -heaven; but now only a low-lying curtain of haze marked the position of -the city. Down in the valley, winding between low cliffs clothed with -brushwood and stunted oaks, the waters of the Tiber flashed in the -slanting sun-rays, and the bold outline of Soracte rose in the blue -distance, like an island floating upon a summer sea. - -And Don Agostino stood and gazed, and as he did so he thought of the -restless life forever seething in the far-off city he knew so well--the -busy brains that were working, calculating, intriguing in the shadow of -that mighty dome which bore the emblem of self-sacrifice and humility on -its summit, and of all the good and all the evil that was being wrought -beneath that purple patch of mist that hid--Rome. - -None knew the good and the evil better than he, and the mysterious way -in which the one sprang from the other in a never-ending circle, as it -had sprung now for wellnigh twenty centuries--ever since the old gods -began to wear halos and to be called saints. - -Don Agostino, or, to give him his proper name and ecclesiastical rank, -Monsignor Lelli, had been a canon of the basilica of Santa Maria -Maggiore, in Rome, before he fell into disgrace at the Vatican. - -Notwithstanding the gossip which had been rife concerning the reasons -for his exile from Rome to Montefiano, private morals had had nothing to -do with the matter. For several years he had filled a post of some -confidence at the Vatican--a post, like that held by Judas Iscariot, -involving considerable financial responsibility. - -Judas Iscariot, however, had been more fortunate than Monsignor Lelli, -inasmuch as he was attached to the financial service of Christ, and not -to that of Christ's vicar. - -To make a long story short, certain loans, advanced for political -purposes, though private social interests were not extraneous to the -transactions, lightened the money-bags to an unforeseen extent, and the -securities which Monsignor Lelli held in their stead soon proved to be -little better than waste paper. It was known that Monsignor Lelli had -acted under protest, and, moreover, that he had obeyed instructions -which he had no choice but to obey. - -The Vatican, however, differs in no way from any other organization to -carry on which the rules of discipline must be strictly maintained; and -when a superior officer blunders, a subordinate must, if possible, be -found to bear the blame. In this case Monsignor Lelli was manifestly the -fit and proper scape-goat; and here all comparison with Judas Iscariot -ended, for he had walked off with his burden to Montefiano without -uttering so much as a protesting bleat. - -But at Rome the true motives for actions both public and private are -rarely to be discovered on the surface. Nominally, Monsignor Lelli's -disgrace was the direct consequence of his negligence in safeguarding -the sums of money for the sound investment of which he was supposed to -be responsible. Practically, its cause lay elsewhere. He was known to -be a Liberal in his political views, the friend of a prominent foreign -cardinal resident in Rome, to whose influence, indeed, he owed his -canonry of Santa Maria Maggiore, and whose attitude towards the Italian -government, and also towards various dogmatic questions, had for some -time aroused the ill-will of a pontiff who was even more anti-Italian -than his predecessor. Unfortunately for himself, Monsignor Lelli had -published his views on the relations between Church and State, and had -drawn down upon his head the wrath of the clerical party in consequence. -His enemies, and they were many, left no means untried to bring about -his disgrace, fully aware that by doing so they would at the same time -be striking a blow at the obnoxious cardinal who supported not only -Monsignor Lelli but also every Liberal ecclesiastic in Rome. When it -became evident that more than one grave financial blunder had been -committed by others in authority, it was equally obvious that the moment -to strike this blow had arrived, and it was delivered accordingly. - -All these things, however, had happened years ago. The cardinal was -dead--of one of those mysteriously rapid illnesses which he made no -secret to his more intimate friends as being likely some day to overtake -him--and Monsignor Lelli remained at Montefiano, forgotten, as his -parishioners declared, though he himself knew well that at Rome nothing -is forgotten, and that so long as his enemies lived, so long would he, -Monsignor Lelli, be required to devote his learning and his intellect to -the needs of a peasant population. Afterwards--well, it was of the -afterwards he was thinking, as he gazed dreamily over the great plain -stretching away to Rome, when the sound of horses' hoofs in the street -below attracted his attention, and, looking round, he saw the agent, -Giuseppe Fontana--Sor Beppe, as he was commonly called in -Montefiano--riding towards him apparently in some haste. - -Don Agostino moved out of the shade to meet him. - -"Signor Fattore, good-evening!" he said, courteously, knowing that the -man liked to be given his full official title as administrator of the -Montefiano fief. - -Sor Beppe rode up alongside of him, raising his felt hat as he returned -the salutation. He wore his official coat of dark-blue cloth, on the -silver buttons of which were engraved the arms and coronet of the -Montefiano. He was a powerfully made man with a dark, grizzled beard, -inclining to gray, and he sat his horse--a well-built black stallion--as -one who was more often in the saddle than out of it. On ordinary days -he would carry a double-barrelled gun slung across his shoulders, but -to-day the weapon was absent. - -Don Agostino noted the fact, and also that the agent's face was lighted -up with unusual excitement. - -"And what is there new, Signor Fontana?" he asked, briefly. - -"_Perbacco_! What is there new?" repeated Fontana. "There is a whole -world of new--but your reverence will never guess what it is! Such a -thing has not happened for fifteen years--" - -"But what is it?" insisted Don Agostino, tranquilly. "I quite believe -that nothing new has happened in Montefiano for fifteen years. I have -been here nearly ten, and--" - -"I have ridden down to tell you. The letter came only an hour ago. Her -excellency the princess--their excellencies the princesses, I should -say--" - -"Well," interrupted Don Agostino, "what about them?" - -The agent took a letter from his pocket and spread it out on the pommel -of his saddle. Then he handed it to Don Agostino. - -"There!" he exclaimed. "It is her excellency herself who writes. They -are coming here--to the palace--to stay for weeks--months, perhaps." - -Don Agostino uttered a sudden ejaculation. It was difficult to say -whether it was of surprise or dismay. - -"Here!" he said--"to Montefiano? But the place is dismantled--a -barrack!" - -"And do I not know it--I?" returned Sor Beppe. "There are some tables -and some chairs--and there are things that once were beds; but there is -nothing else, unless it is some pictures on the walls--and the -prince--blessed soul--took the best of those to Rome years ago." - -Don Agostino read the letter attentively. - -"The princess says that all the necessary furniture will be sent from -Rome at once," he observed, "and servants--everything, in fact. The -rooms on the _piano nobile_ are to be made ready--and the chapel. Well, -Signor Fontana," he continued, "you will have plenty to occupy your time -if, as the princess says, everything is to be ready in a fortnight from -to-day. After all, the palace was built to be lived in--is it not -true?" - -"Very true, reverence; but it is so sudden. After so many years, to -want everything done in fifteen days--" - -"Women, my dear Signor Fontana--women!" said Don Agostino, -deprecatingly. - -The agent laughed. "That is what I said to my wife," he replied. - -"It was not a wise thing to say," observed Don Agostino. - -"It is an incredible affair," resumed the other, brushing a fly from his -horse's flank as he spoke; "and no reception by the people--as little -notice as possible to be taken of their excellencies' arrival. You see -what the letter says, reverence?" - -"Yes," replied Don Agostino, meditatively. "It is unusual, certainly, -under the circumstances." - -"But," he added, "the princess has undoubtedly some good reason for -wishing to arrive at Montefiano in as quiet a manner as possible. -Perhaps she is ill, or her daughter is ill--who knows?" - -"They say she is a saint," observed Fontana. - -Don Agostino looked at him; the tone of Sor Beppe's voice implied that -such a fact would account for any eccentricity. Then he smiled. - -"She is at all events the mistress of Montefiano, until the young -princess is of age or marries," he remarked; "so, Signor Fontana, there -is nothing more to be said or done." - -"Except to obey her excellency's instructions." - -"Exactly--except to obey her instructions," repeated Don Agostino. - -"It is strange that your reverence, the _parroco_ of Montefiano, should -never have seen our _padrona_." - -"It is still stranger that you--her representative here--should never -have seen her," returned Don Agostino. - -"That is true," said the agent; "but"--and his white teeth gleamed in -his beard as he smiled--"saints do not often show themselves, -_reverendo_! My respects," he added, lifting his hat and gathering up -his reins. "I have to ride down to Poggio to arrange with the -station-master there for the arrival of the things which will be sent -from Rome." And settling himself in his saddle, Sor Beppe started off -at an easy canter and soon disappeared round a turn of the white road, -leaving a cloud of dust behind him. - -Don Agostino looked after him for a moment or two, and then returned -thoughtfully to his house. - -The intelligence the agent had brought him was news, indeed, and he -wondered what its true purport might be. It was certainly strange that, -after studiously avoiding Montefiano for all these years, the princess -should suddenly take it into her head to come there for a prolonged -stay. Hitherto, Don Agostino had been very happy in his exile, chiefly -because that exile was so complete. There had been nobody at Montefiano -to rake up the past, to open old wounds which the passing of years had -cicatrized, and which only throbbed now and again when memory insisted -upon asserting her rights. - -The petty jealousies and malignities which poison the atmosphere of most -courts, and which in that of the Vatican are the more poisonous inasmuch -as they wear a religious mask, could not penetrate to Montefiano, or, if -they did, could not long survive out of the air of Rome. Monsignor -Lelli had quickly realized this; and, the confidence of his parishioners -once gained, he had learned to appreciate the change of air. The -financial conditions of the Vatican did not interest Montefiano. -Consequently, the story of Don Agostino's financial indiscretions had -not reached the little room in the Corso Garibaldi, which was the -nightly resort of the more wealthy among the community, and in which -high political matters were settled with a rapidity that should have -made the parliaments of Europe blush--were any one of them capable of -blushing. - -As to the other stories--well, Don Agostino had soon lived them down. -Montefiano had declared--with some cynicism, perhaps, but with much -justice--that there were those who were lucky in their adventures and -those who were unlucky, and that priests, when all was said and done, -were much the same as other people. Nevertheless, Montefiano had kept -its eyes on Don Agostino for a while, in case of accidents--for nobody -likes accidents to happen at home. - -But it was not entirely of these matters that Don Agostino was thinking -as he let himself into the little garden by the side of the church. His -house, connected with the sacristy by a _pergola_ over which vines and -roses were struggling for the mastery, stood at the end of this garden, -and Don Agostino, opening the door quietly lest his housekeeper should -hear and descend upon him, passed into his study. - -The news Sor Beppe had brought had awakened other memories--memories -which took him back to the days before he was a priest; when he had been -a young fellow of three or four and twenty, very free from care, very -good to look upon, and very much in love. - -It was strange, perhaps, that the impending arrival at Montefiano of an -elderly lady and a girl of seventeen, neither of whom Don Agostino had -ever seen, should arouse in him memories of his own youth; but so it -was. Such links in the chain that binds us to the past--a chain that -perhaps death itself is powerless to break--are perpetually forging -themselves in the present, and often trifles as light as air rivet them. - -In this case the link had been forged long ago. Don Agostino remembered -the forging of it every time he donned the sacred vestments to say mass, -and was conscious that the years had riveted it only more firmly. - -It was, perhaps, as well that his housekeeper was busy plucking a -chicken in the back premises; and it was certainly as well that none of -his flock could have observed their pastor's actions when he had shut -himself into his study, otherwise unprofitable surmises, long rejected -as such, would have cropped up again round the measures of wine in the -Caffe Garibaldi that evening. - -For some time Don Agostino sat in front of his writing-table thinking, -his face buried in his hands. The joyous chattering of the -house-martins flying to and from their nests came through the open -windows, and the scent of roses and Madonna lilies. But presently the -liquid notes of the swallows changed into the soft lapping of waters -rising and falling on marble steps; the scent of the lilies was there, -but mingling with it was the salt smell of the lagoons, the warm, silky -air blowing in from the Adriatic. The distant sounds from the village -street became, in Don Agostino's ears, the cries of the gondoliers and -the fishermen, and Venice rose before his eyes--Venice, with the rosy -light of a summer evening falling on her palaces and her churches, -turning her laughing waters into liquid flame; Venice, with her murmur -of music in the air as the gondolas and the fishing-boats glided away -from the city across the lagoons to the Lido and the sea; Venice, -holding out to him youth and love, and the first sweet dawning of the -passion that only youth and love can know. - -Suddenly Don Agostino raised his head and looked about him as one looks -who wakes from a dream. His eyes fell upon the crucifix standing on his -table and on the ivory Christ nailed to it. And then his dream passed. - -Rising, he crossed the room, and, unlocking a cabinet, took from it a -tiny miniature and one letter--the only one left to him, for he had -burned the rest. The keeping of this letter had been a compromise. For -do not the best of us make a compromise with our consciences -occasionally? - -The face in the miniature was that of a young girl--a child almost--but -exceedingly beautiful, with the red-gold hair and creamy coloring of the -Venetian woman of the Renaissance. - -Don Agostino looked at it long; afterwards, almost mechanically, he -raised the picture towards his lips. Then, with a sudden gesture, as -though realizing what he was about to do, he thrust it back into the -drawer of the cabinet. But he kissed the letter before he replaced it -beside the miniature. - -It was merely another compromise, this time not so much with his -conscience, perhaps, as with his priesthood. - -"Bianca!" he said, aloud, and his voice dwelt on the name with a -lingering tenderness. "Bianca! And she--that other woman--she brings -your child here--here, where I am! Well, perhaps it is you who send -her--who knows? Perhaps it was you who sent me to Montefiano--you, or -the blessed Mother of us all--again, who knows? It was strange, was it -not, that of all places they should send me here, where your child was -born, the child that should have been--" - -The door was flung open hastily, and Don Agostino's housekeeper filled -the threshold. - -"_Madonna mia Santissima!_" she exclaimed. "It is your reverence, after -all. I thought I heard voices--" - -"Yes, Ernana, it is I," said Don Agostino, quietly. - -"_Accidente!_ but you frightened me!" grumbled the woman. "I was -plucking the chicken for your reverence's supper, and--" - -"So I perceive," remarked Don Agostino, watching feathers falling off -her person to the floor. "And you heard voices," he added. "Well, I -was talking to myself. You can return to the chicken, Ernana, in -peace!" - -"The chicken is a fat chicken," observed Ernana, reflectively. "_A -proposito_," she added, "will your reverence eat it boiled? It sits -more lightly on the stomach at night--boiled." - -"I will eat it boiled," said Don Agostino. - -"And with a _contorno_ of rice?" - -Don Agostino sighed. - -"Rice?" he repeated, absently. "Of course, Ernana; with rice, certainly -with rice." - - - - - *III* - - -Palazzo Acorari, the residence in Rome of the princes of Montefiano, was -situated, as has already been said, in that old quarter of the city -known as the Campitelli. It stood, indeed, but a few yards away from -the piazza of the name, in a deserted little square through which few -people passed save those whose business took them into the squalid -streets and _vicoli_ opening out of the Piazza Montanara. - -It was not one of the well-known palaces of Rome, although it was of far -greater antiquity than many described at length in the guide-books; -neither was it large in comparison with some of its near neighbors. -Nine people out of ten, if asked by a stranger to direct them to Palazzo -Acorari, would have been unable to reply, although, from a mingled sense -of the courtesy due to a _forestiero_, and fear of being taken for -_forestiero_ themselves, they would probably have attempted to do so all -the same, to the subsequent indignation of the stranger. - -There was no particular reason why Palazzo Acorari should be well known. -It contained no famous works of art, and its apartments, though stately -in their way, were neither historic nor on a large enough scale to have -ever been rented by rich foreigners as a stage on which they could play -at being Roman nobles to an appreciative if somewhat cynical audience. - -A narrow and gloomy _porte cochere_ opened from the street into the -court-yard round which the Palazzo Acorari was built. Except for an -hour or two at mid-day no ray of sunlight ever penetrated into this -court, which, nevertheless, was picturesque enough with its graceful -arches and its time-worn statues mounting guard around it. A porter in -faded livery dozed in his little office on one side of the entrance, in -the intervals of gossiping with a passer-by on the doings and misdoings -of the neighbors, and he, together with a few pigeons and a black cat, -were generally the only animate objects to be seen by those who happened -to glance into the quadrangle. - -The princess and her step-daughter inhabited the first floor of the -palace, while the ground-floor was apportioned off into various _locali_ -opening on to the streets, in which a cobbler, a retail charcoal and -coke vender, a mattress-maker, and others plied their respective trades. - -On the second floor, immediately above the princess's apartment, was -another suite of rooms. This apartment had been unlet for two or three -years, and it was only some six or eight months since it had found a -tenant. - -The princess was not an accommodating landlady. Possibly she regarded -concessions to the tenants of her second floor as works of -supererogation--laudable, perhaps, but not necessary to salvation. -Moreover, the tenants on the second floor never went to mass--at least, -so the Abbe Roux had gathered from the porter, whose business it was to -know the concerns of every one dwelling in or near Palazzo Acorari. - -There had been, consequently, passages of arms concerning responsibility -for the repairs of water-pipes and similar objects, in which it was -clearly injurious to the glory of God and the interests of the Church -that the princess should be the one to give way. She had been, indeed, -on the point of declining the offer of Professor Rossano to take the -vacant apartment. He was a well-known scientist, with a reputation -which had travelled far beyond the frontiers of Italy, and, in -recognition of his work in the domain of physical science, had been -created a senator of the Italian kingdom. But a scientific reputation -was not a thing which appealed to the princess, regarding as she did all -scientific men as misguided and arrogant individuals in league with the -freemasons and the devil to destroy faith upon the earth. The Abbe -Roux, however, had counselled tolerance, accompanied by an addition of -five hundred francs a year to the rent. The apartment had been long -unlet, and was considerably out of repair; but the professor had taken a -fancy to it, as being in a quiet and secluded position where he could -pursue his studies undisturbed by the noise of the tram-cars, which even -then were beginning to render the chief thoroughfares of Rome odious to -walk and drive in, and still more odious to live in. - -As he was a man of some means, he had not demurred at the extra rent -which the princess's agent had demanded at the last moment before the -signing of the lease. Apart from the fact that he was a scientist and a -senator of that kingdom of which the princess affected to ignore the -existence, there had seemed to be nothing undesirable about Professor -Rossano as a tenant. He was a widower, with a son of four-and-twenty -and a daughter a year or two older who lived with him; and, after her -tenant's furniture had been carried in and the upholsterers had done -their work, the princess had been hardly conscious that the apartment -immediately above her own was occupied. On rare occasions she had -encountered the professor on the staircase, and had bowed in answer to -his salutation; but there was no acquaintance between them, nor did -either show symptoms of wishing to interchange anything but the most -formal of courtesies. Sometimes, too, when going out for, or returning -from, their daily drive, the princess and her step-daughter would meet -Professor Rossano's daughter, who was usually accompanied by her maid, a -middle-aged person of staid demeanor who seemed to act as a companion to -the Signorina Giacinta, as, according to the porter, Senator Rossano's -daughter was called. The girls used to look at each other curiously, -but weeks went by before a word passed between them. - -"They are not of our world," the princess had said, decisively, to -Bianca shortly after the Rossanos' arrival, "and there is no necessity -for us to know them"--and the girl had nodded her head silently, though -with a slight sigh. It was not amusing to be princess of Montefiano in -one's own right and do nothing but drive out in a closed carriage every -afternoon, and perhaps walk for half an hour outside one of the city -gates or in the Villa Pamphili with one's stepmother by one's side and a -footman ten paces behind. Bianca Acorari thought she would like to have -known Giacinta Rossano, who looked amiable and _simpatica_, and was -certainly pretty. But though there was only the thickness of a floor -between them, the two establishments were as completely apart as if the -Tiber separated them, and Bianca knew by experience that it would be -useless to attempt to combat her step-mother's prejudices. Indeed, she -herself regarded the professor and his daughter with a curiosity not -unmixed with awe, and would scarcely have been surprised if a judgment -had overtaken them even on their way up and down the staircase; for had -not Monsieur l'Abbe declared that neither father nor daughter ever went -to mass? - -This assertion was not strictly true--at any rate, so far as the -Signorina Giacinta was concerned. The professor, no doubt, seldom went -inside a church, except, perhaps, on special occasions, such as Easter -or Christmas. He possessed a scientific conscience as well as a -spiritual conscience, and he found an insuperable difficulty in -reconciling the one with the other on a certain point of dogma which -need not be named. He was not antichristian, however, though he might -be anticlerical, and he encouraged Giacinta to go to the churches rather -than the reverse, as many fathers of families in his position do, both -in Italy and elsewhere. - -Professor Rossano and his daughter had inhabited the Palazzo Acorari -nearly three months before Bianca made the discovery that the girl at -whom she had cast stolen glances of curiosity, as being the first -heretic of her own nationality she had ever beheld, was, if appearances -spoke the truth, no heretic at all. She had actually seen Giacinta -kneeling in the most orthodox manner at mass in the neighboring church -of Santa Maria dei Campitelli. Bianca had informed the princess of her -discovery that very day at breakfast in the presence of the Abbe Roux, -who was an invariable guest on Sundays and feast-days. She nourished a -secret hope that her step-mother might become more favorably disposed -towards the family on the second floor if it could satisfactorily be -proved not to be entirely heretical. The princess, however, did not -receive the information in the spirit Bianca had expected. - -"People of that sort," she had responded, coldly, "often go to mass in -order to keep up appearances, or sometimes to meet--oh, well"--she broke -off, abruptly--"to stare about them as you seem to have been doing this -morning, Bianca, instead of saying your prayers. Is it not so, Monsieur -l'Abbe?" she added to the priest, with whom she generally conversed in -French, though both spoke Italian perfectly. - -The Abbe Roux sighed. "Ah, yes, madame," he replied, "unluckily it is -undoubtedly so. The Professor Rossano, if one is to judge by certain -arrogant and anticatholic works of which he is the author, is not likely -to have brought up his children to be believers. And if one does not -believe, what is the use of going to mass?--except--except--" And here -he checked himself as the princess had done, feeling himself to be on -the verge of an indiscretion. - -"You hear, Bianca, what Monsieur l'Abbe says," observed the princess. -"You must understand once for all, that what Professor Rossano and his -daughter may or may not do is no concern of ours--" - -"So long as they pay their rent," added the Abbe, pouring himself out -another glass of red wine. - -"So long as they pay their rent," the princess repeated. "They are not -of our society--" she continued. - -"And do not dance," interrupted Bianca. - -The princess looked at her a little suspiciously. She was never quite -sure whether Bianca, notwithstanding her quiet and apparently somewhat -apathetic disposition, was altogether so submissive as she seemed. - -"Dance!" she exclaimed. "Why should they dance? I don't know what you -mean, Bianca." - -"It is against the contract to dance on the second floor. The guests -might fall through on to our heads," observed Bianca, tranquilly. -"Bettina told me so, and the porter told her--" - -The princess frowned. "Bettina talks too much," she said, with an -unmistakable air of desiring that the subject should drop. - -Bianca relapsed into silence. It was very evident that, however devout -the Rossano girl might be, she would not be allowed to make her -acquaintance. Her observant eyes had watched the Abbe Roux's -countenance as she made her little effort to further that desired event, -for she was very well aware that no step was likely to be taken in this, -or, indeed, in any other matter unless the Abbe approved of it. -Privately, Bianca detested the priest, and with a child's unerring -instinct--for she was still scarcely more than a child in some -things--she felt that he disliked her. - -Nor was this state of things of recent origin. Ever since the Abbe Roux -had become, as it were, a member of the Montefiano household, Bianca -Acorari had entertained the same feeling towards him. Her obstinacy on -this point, indeed, had first awakened the princess to the fact that her -step-daughter had a very decided will of her own, which, short of -breaking, nothing was likely to conquer. - -This stubbornness, as the princess called it, had shown itself in an -unmistakable manner when Bianca, though only twelve years old, had -firmly and absolutely refused to confess to Monsieur l'Abbe. In vain -the princess had threatened punishment both immediate and future, and in -vain the Abbe Roux had admonished her. Make her confession to him, she -would not. To any other priest, yes; to him, no--not then or ever. -There was nothing more to be said or done--for both the princess and -Monsieur l'Abbe knew well enough that the child was within her rights -according to the laws of the Church, though of course she herself was -unaware of the fact. There had been nothing for it, as weeks went on -and Bianca never drew back from the position she had taken up, but to -give way as gracefully as might be--but it was doubtful if the Abbe Roux -had ever forgiven the want of confidence in him which the child had -displayed, although he had afterwards told her that the Church left to -all penitents the right of choice as to their confessors. - -When Bianca grew older, the princess had intended to send her to the -Convent of the Assumption in order to complete her education, and at the -same time place her under some discipline. The girl was delicate, -however, and it was eventually decided that it was better that she -should be educated at home. - -Perhaps it was the gradual consciousness that she was debarred from -associating with any one of her own age which had made Bianca think -wistfully that it would be pleasant to make the acquaintance of the -attractive-looking girl whom she passed occasionally on the staircase, -and who had come to live under the same roof as herself. She could not -but notice that the older she became the more she seemed to be cut off -from the society of others of her years. Formerly she had occasionally -been allowed to associate with the children of her step-mother's friends -and acquaintances, and, at rare intervals, they had been invited to some -childish festivity at Palazzo Acorari. - -By degrees, however, her life had become more and more isolated, and for -the last year or two the princess, a governess who came daily to teach -her modern languages and music, and her maid and attendant, Bettina, had -been her only companions. - -Rightly or wrongly, Bianca associated the restriction of her -surroundings with the influence of the Abbe Roux, and the suspicion only -increased the dislike she had always instinctively borne him. - -It never entered into her head, however, to suggest to the princess that -her life was an exceedingly dull one. Indeed, having no means of -comparing it with the lives of other girls of her age, she scarcely -realized that it was dull, and she accepted it as the natural order of -things. It had not been until she had seen Giacinta Rossano that an -indefinable longing for some companionship other than that of those much -older than herself began to make itself felt within her, and she had -found herself wondering why she had no brothers and sisters, no cousins, -such as other girls must have, with whom they could associate. - -In the mean time, life in Palazzo Acorari went on as usual for Bianca. -She fancied that, when they passed each other, the daughter of the -mysterious old professor on the second floor who wrote wicked books -looked at her with increasing interest; and that once or twice, when -Bianca had been accompanied only by Bettina, she had half-paused as -though about to speak, but had then thought better of it and walked on -with a bow and a slight smile. - -On one occasion she had ventured to sound Bettina as to whether it would -not be at least courteous on her part to do something more than bow as -she passed the Signorina Rossano. But Bettina was very cautious in her -reply. The princess, it appeared, had been resolute in forbidding any -communication between the two floors, excepting such as might have to be -carried on through the medium of the porter, in the case of such a -calamity as pipes bursting or roofs leaking. - -December was nearly over, and Rome was _sotto Natale_. People were -hurrying through the streets buying their Christmas presents, and -thronging the churches to look at the representations of the Holy Child -lying in the manger of Bethlehem; for it was Christmas Eve, and the -great bells of the basilicas were booming forth the tidings of the birth -of Christ. In every house in Rome, among rich and poor alike, -preparations were going on for the family gathering that should take -place that night, and for the supper that should be eaten after midnight -when the strict fast of the Christmas vigil should be over. - -The majority, perhaps, paid but little heed to the fasting and -abstinence enjoined by the priests, unless the addition of fresh fish to -the bill of fare--fish brought from Anzio and Nettuno the day before by -the ton weight and sold at the traditional _cottio_ throughout the -night--could be taken as a sign of obedience to the laws of the Church. -But the truly faithful conformed rigidly throughout the day, reserving -themselves for the meats that would be permissible on the return from -the midnight masses, when the birth of a God would be celebrated, as it -has ever been, by a larger consumption than usual of the flesh of His -most innocent creatures on the part of those who invoke Him as a -merciful and compassionate Creator. - -This particular Christmas Eve it so happened that the princess was -confined to her bed with a severe cold and fever, which made attendance -at the midnight masses an impossibility so far as she was concerned. -Bianca, however, was allowed to go, accompanied by Bettina, and shortly -after half-past eleven they left Palazzo Acorari, meaning to walk to the -church of San Luigi dei Francesi in the Piazza Navona, one of the few -churches in Rome to which the public were admitted to be present at the -three masses appointed to be said at the dawning hours of Christmas Day. - -It was raining in torrents as they emerged from the _portone_ of the -_palazzo_, and to get a cab at that hour of night on Christmas Eve -appeared to be an impossibility, except, perhaps, in the main streets. - -Bianca and her attendant consulted together. They would certainly be -wet through before they could reach the Piazza Navona, and it seemed as -though there was nothing to be done but to remain at home. Bettina, -however, suddenly remembered that at the little church of the Sudario, -less than half-way to the Piazza Navona, the midnight masses were also -celebrated. To be sure, it was the church of the Piedmontese, and -chiefly attended by members of the royal household, and often by the -queen herself. The princess would not be altogether pleased, therefore, -at the substitution; but, under the circumstances, Bianca expressed her -determination of going there, and her maid was obliged to acquiesce. - -Five minutes plunging through puddles and mud, and battling with a warm -sirocco wind which blew in gusts at the corners of every street, brought -them to the little church hidden away behind the Corso Vittorio -Emmanuele. - -A side door communicating with the building was open, and they passed -from the darkness and the driving rain into a blaze of warm light and -the mingled scent of incense and flowers. The high altar, adorned with -priceless white-and-gold embroideries, sparkled in the radiance of -countless wax-candles. Overhead, from a gallery at the opposite end of -the church, the organ was playing softly, the player reproducing on the -reed-stops the pastoral melodies of the _pifferari_, in imitation of the -pipes of the shepherds watching over their flocks through that wonderful -night nineteen centuries ago. - -Although it wanted yet twenty minutes to midnight the church was nearly -full, and Bianca and her companion made their way to some vacant seats -half-way up it. Glancing at her neighbors immediately in front of her, -Bianca gave a start of surprise as she recognized Giacinta Rossano. - -Bettina's gaze was fixed on the altar, and Bianca hesitated for a -moment. Then she leaned forward and whispered timidly, "_Buona Natale, -buona feste_"--with a little smile. - -A pair of soft, dark eyes smiled back into her own. "_Buona Natale, e -buona anno, Donna Bianca_." Giacinta Rossano replied, in a low, clear -voice which caused Bettina to withdraw her eyes from the altar and to -look sharply round to see whence it proceeded. Somebody else turned -round also--a young man whom Bianca had not noticed, but who was sitting -next to Giacinta. For a moment their eyes met, and then she looked away -quickly, half conscious of a sensation of effort in doing so that caused -her a vague surprise. The gaze she had suddenly encountered had seemed -to enchain her own. The eyes that had looked into hers with a -wondering, questioning look were like Giacinta Rossano's, only they were -blue--Bianca felt quite sure of that. They had seemed to shut out for a -second or two the blaze of light on the altar. The momentary feeling of -surprise passed, she turned her head towards the altar again, and as she -did so she overheard Giacinta Rossano's companion whisper to her, -"_Chie?_" accompanied by a rapid backward motion of his head. - -Giacinta's reply was inaudible, for at that moment a clear alto voice -from the gallery rang out with the opening notes of the _Adeste -Fideles_. The doors of the sacristy opened, and the officiating priest, -glittering in his vestments of gold-and-white, knelt before the altar. -_Venite Adoremus_ burst forth triumphantly from the choir, the alto -voice rising above the rest like an angel's song. Presently, as the -strains of the Christmas hymn died away, and the soft reed-notes of the -organ resumed the plaintive refrain of the _pifferari_, the celebrant -rose, and then kneeling again on the lowest step of the altar, murmured -the _Confiteor_--and the first mass of the Nativity began. - -After the elevation, Bianca Acorari rose from her knees and resumed her -seat. The mellow light from the wax-candles glinted upon the tawny gold -of her hair and her creamy complexion, both of which she had inherited -from her Venetian mother. Many eyes were turned upon her, for though, -so far as regularity of features was concerned, she could not be called -beautiful, yet her face was striking enough, combining as it did the -Italian grace and mobility with a coloring that, but for its warmth, -might have stamped her as belonging to some Northern race. - -Owing to the general shuffling of chairs consequent upon the members of -the congregation resuming their seats after the elevation, Bianca -suddenly became aware that Giacinta Rossano's companion had somewhat -changed his position, and that he was now sitting where he could see her -without, as before, turning half round in his seat. Apparently, too, he -was not allowing the opportunity to escape him, for more than once she -felt conscious that his eyes were resting upon her; and, indeed, each -time she ventured to steal a glance in Giacinta's direction that glance -was intercepted--not rudely or offensively, but with the same almost -wondering look in the dark-blue eyes that they had worn when they first -met her own. - -Bianca glanced furtively from Giacinta's companion to Giacinta herself -as soon as the former looked away. - -Decidedly, she thought, they were very like each other, except in the -coloring of the eyes, for Giacinta's eyes were of a deep, velvety brown. -Suddenly a light dawned upon her. Of course! this must be Giacinta -Rossano's brother--come, no doubt, to spend Christmas with his father -and sister. She had always heard that the professor had a son; but as -this son had never appeared upon the scene since the Rossanos had lived -in the Palazzo Acorari, Bianca had forgotten that he had any existence. - -How she wished she had a brother come to spend Christmas with her! It -would, at all events, be more amusing than sitting at dinner opposite to -Monsieur l'Abbe, which would certainly be her fate the following -evening. From all of which reflections it may be gathered that Bianca -was not deriving as much spiritual benefit from her attendance at mass -as could be desired. Perhaps the thought struck her, for she turned -somewhat hastily to Bettina, only to see an expression on that worthy -woman's face which puzzled her. It was a curious expression, half-uneasy -and half-humorous, and Bianca remembered it afterwards. - -The three masses came to an end at last, and to the calm, sweet music of -the Pastoral symphony from Haendel's _Messiah_ (for the organist at the -Sudario, unlike the majority of his colleagues in Rome, was a musician -and an artist) the congregation slowly left the church, its members -exchanging Christmas greetings with their friends before going home to -supper. Bettina hurried her charge through the throng, never slackening -speed until they had left the building and turned down a by-street out -of the crowd thronging the Corso Vittorio Emmanuele. Even then she -glanced nervously over her shoulder from time to time, as though to make -sure they were not being followed. - -The rain had ceased by this time, and the moon shone in a deep violet -sky, softening the grim mass of the Caetani and Antici-Mattei palaces -which frowned above them. Presently Bettina halted under a flickering -gas-lamp. - -"A fine thing, truly," she exclaimed, abruptly, "to go to a midnight -mass to stare at a good-looking boy--under the very nose, too, speaking -with respect, of the _santissimo_!" - -Bianca flushed. "He looked at me!" she said, indignantly. - -"It is the same thing," returned Bettina--"at least," she added, "it is -generally the same thing--in the end. Holy Virgin! what would her -excellency say--and Monsieur l'Abbe--if they knew such a thing? And the -insolence of it! He looked--and looked! Signorina, it is a thing -unheard of--" - -"What thing?" interrupted Bianca, tranquilly. - -"What thing?" repeated Bettina, somewhat taken aback. "Why--why--oh, -well," she added, hastily, "it doesn't matter what thing--only, for the -love of God, signorina, do not let her excellency know that you spoke to -the Signorina Rossano to-night!" - -"There was no harm," replied Bianca. "I only wished her a good -Christmas--" - -"No harm--perhaps not!" returned Bettina; "but, signorina, I do not wish -to find myself in the street, you understand--and it is I who would be -blamed." - -Bianca raised her head proudly. "You need not be afraid," she said. "I -do not allow others to be blamed for what I do. As to the Signorina -Rossano, I have made her acquaintance, and I mean to keep it. For the -rest, it is not necessary to say when or how I made it. Come, Bettina, -I hear footsteps." - -"You will make the acquaintance of the other one, too," Bettina said to -herself--"but who knows whether you will keep it? Mali!" and with a -sharp shrug of the shoulders she walked by Bianca's side in silence -until they reached Palazzo Acorari, where the porter, who was waiting -for them at the entrance, let them through the gateway and lighted them -up the dark staircase to the doors of the _piano nobile_. - - - - - *IV* - - -"I tell you that it is a _pazzia_--a madness," said Giacinta Rossano. -"The girl is a good girl, and I am sorry for her--shut up in this dreary -house with a step-mother and a priest. But we are not of their world, -and they are not of ours. The princess has made that very clear from -the first." - -"And what does it matter?" Silvio Rossano exclaimed, impetuously. "We -are not princes, but neither are we beggars. Does not everybody know -who my father is, Giacinta? And some day, perhaps, I shall make a name -for myself, too--" - -Giacinta glanced at her brother proudly. - -"Yes," she said, "I believe you will--I am sure you will, if--" And -then she hesitated. - -"If what?" demanded Silvio. - -"If you do not make an imbecile of yourself first," his sister replied, -dryly. - -Silvio Rossano flung the newspaper he had been reading on to the floor, -and his eyes flashed with anger. In a moment, however, the anger -passed, and he laughed. - -"All men are imbeciles once in their lives," he said, "and most men are -imbeciles much more frequently--" - -"Oh, with these last it does not matter," observed Giacinta, sapiently; -"they do themselves no harm. But you--you are not of that sort, Silvio -_mio_. So before making an imbecile of yourself, it will be better to -be sure that it is worth the trouble. Besides, the thing is ridiculous. -People do not fall in love at first sight, except in novels--and if they -do, they can easily fall out of it again." - -"Not the other ones," said Silvio, briefly. - -"The other ones? Ah, I understand," and Giacinta looked at him more -gravely. She was very fond of this only brother of hers, and very proud -of him--proud of his already promising career and of his frank, lovable -disposition, as well as of his extreme good looks. In truth, when she -compared Silvio with the large majority of young men of his age and -standing, she had some reason for her pride. Unlike so many young Romans -of the more leisured classes, Silvio Rossano had never been content to -lead a useless and brainless existence. Being an only son, he had been -exempt from military service; but, instead of lounging in the Corso in -the afternoons and frequenting music-halls and other resorts of a more -doubtful character at night, he had turned his attention at a -comparatively early age to engineering. At the present moment, though -barely five-and-twenty, he had just completed the erection of some -important water-works at Bari, during the formation of which he had been -specially chosen by one of the most eminent engineers in Italy to -superintend the works during the great man's repeated absences -elsewhere. Thanks to Silvio Rossano's untiring energy and technical -skill, as well as to his popularity with his subordinates and workmen, -serious difficulties had been overcome in an unusually short space of -time, and a government contract, which at one moment looked as if about -to be unfulfilled by the company with whom it had been placed, was -completed within the period agreed upon. There could be little doubt -that, after his last success, Silvio would be given some lucrative work -to carry out, and, in the mean time, after an absence of nearly a year, -he had come home for a few weeks' rest and holiday, to find his father -and sister installed in Palazzo Acorari. - -It was, perhaps, not to be wondered at if Giacinta Rossano felt uneasy -in her mind on her brother's account. She knew his character as nobody -else could know it, for he was barely two years younger than she, and -they had grown up together. She knew that beneath his careless, -good-natured manner there lay an inflexible will and indomitable energy, -and that once these were fully aroused they would carry him far towards -the end he might have in view. - -The interest that Donna Bianca Acorari had aroused in Silvio had not -escaped Giacinta's notice. She had observed where his gaze had wandered -so frequently during the midnight mass a few nights previously, and, -knowing that Silvio's life had been too busy a one to have left him much -time to think about love, she had marvelled at the effect that Bianca -Acorari seemed suddenly to have had upon him. Since that night, whenever -they were alone together, he would begin to question her as to the -surroundings of their neighbors on the floor below them, and urge her to -make friends with Donna Bianca. It was in vain that Giacinta pointed -out that she had only interchanged a word or two with the girl in her -life, and that there was evidently a fixed determination on the -princess's part not to permit any acquaintance. - -This last argument, she soon discovered, was the very worst that she -could use. Like most Romans of the _bourgeoisie_ to which he by birth -belonged--and, indeed, like Romans of every class outside the so-called -nobility--Silvio was a republican at heart so far as social differences -were concerned; nor--in view of the degeneracy of a class which has done -all in its power in modern days to vulgarize itself in exchange for -dollars, American or otherwise, and to lose any remnant of the -traditions that, until a generation ago, gave the Roman noblesse a claim -upon the respect of the classes nominally below it--could this attitude -be blamed or wondered at. - -At first, Giacinta had laughed at her brother for the way in which he -had fallen a victim to the attractions of a young girl whom he had never -seen before, but she had very soon begun to suspect that Silvio's -infatuation was no mere passing whim. She was well aware, too, that -passing whims were foreign to his nature. Since that Christmas night, -he had been more silent and thoughtful than she had ever seen him, -except, perhaps, in his student days, when he had been working more than -usually hard before the examinations. - -Of Bianca Acorari herself he spoke little, but Giacinta understood that -the drift of his conversation generally flowed towards the family on the -_piano nobile_ and how its members occupied their day. Moreover, -Silvio, she observed, was much more frequently _in casa_ than was -altogether natural for a young fellow supposed to be taking a holiday, -and he appeared to be strangely neglectful of friends and acquaintances -to whose houses he had formerly been ready to go. Another thing, too, -struck Giacinta as unusual, and scarcely edifying. Silvio had never -been remarkable for an alacrity to go to mass, and Giacinta knew that he -shared the professor's views on certain subjects, and that he had little -partiality for the clergy as a caste. Apparently, however, he had -suddenly developed a devotion to some saint whose relic might or might -not be in the church of Santa Maria in Piazza Campitelli, for Giacinta, -to her surprise, had met him face to face one morning as she had gone to -mass there, and on another occasion she had caught a glimpse of his -figure disappearing behind a corner in the same church. It was only -charitable, she thought, casually to inform this devout church-goer that -the Princess Montefiano had a private chapel in her apartment, in which -the Abbe Roux said mass every morning at half-past eight o'clock. - -In the mean time, the professor, occupied with his scientific research, -was in happy ignorance of the fact that disturbing elements were -beginning to be at work within his small domestic circle, and Giacinta -kept her own counsel. She hoped that Silvio would soon get some -employment which would take him away from Rome, for she was very sure -that nothing but mortification and unhappiness would ensue were he to -make Bianca Acorari's acquaintance. - -Some days had elapsed since Christmas, and Giacinta Rossano had not -again seen either Bianca or the princess. Under the circumstances, she -by no means regretted the fact, for she rather dreaded lest she and her -brother might encounter them on the staircase, and then, if Silvio -behaved as he had behaved in the Sudario, the princess would certainly -suspect his admiration for her step-daughter. - -In Rome, however, families can live under the same roof for weeks, or -even months, without necessarily encountering each other, or knowing -anything of each other's lives or movements; and it so happened that no -opportunity was given to Giacinta, even had she desired it, again to -interchange even a formal greeting with the girl who had evidently made -such an impression at first sight on her brother. - -Of late, too, Silvio's interest in their neighbors had apparently -diminished, for he asked fewer questions concerning them, and -occasionally, Giacinta thought, almost seemed as though desirous of -avoiding the subject. - -She was not altogether pleased, however, when, after he had been at home -about a month, Silvio one day announced that he had been offered work in -Rome which would certainly keep him in the city for the whole summer. -It was delightful, no doubt, to have him with them. She saw that her -father was overjoyed at the idea, and, had it not been for other -considerations, Giacinta would have desired nothing better than that -Silvio should live permanently with them, for his being at home made her -own life infinitely more varied. She could not help wondering, however, -whether Bianca Acorari had anything to do with Silvio's evident -satisfaction at remaining in Rome. Hitherto, he had shown eagerness -rather than disinclination to get away from Rome, declaring that there -was so little money or enterprise in the capital that any young Roman -wishing to make his way in the world had better not waste his time by -remaining in it. - -Now, however, to judge of Silvio's contented attitude, he had found work -which would be remunerative enough without being obliged to seek it in -other parts of Italy or abroad. And so the weeks went by. Lent was -already over, and Easter and spring had come, when Giacinta made a -discovery which roused afresh all her uneasiness on her brother's -behalf. - -In some way or another she began to feel convinced that Silvio had -managed either to meet Bianca Acorari, or, at all events, to have some -communication with her. For some little time, indeed, she had suspected -that his entire cessation from any mention of the girl or her -step-mother was not due to his interest in Bianca having subsided. -Silvio's interest in anything was not apt easily to subside when once -fully aroused, and that it had been fully aroused, Giacinta had never -entertained any doubt. Chance furnished her with a clew as to where -Silvio's channels of communication might possibly lie, if indeed he -could have any direct communication with Donna Bianca, which, under the -circumstances, would seem to be almost incredible. - -It so happened that one April morning, when summer seemed to have -entered into premature possession of its inheritance, when the Banksia -roses by the steps of the Ara Coeli were bursting into bloom and the -swifts were chasing each other with shrill screams in the blue sky -overhead, Giacinta was returning from her usual walk before the mid-day -breakfast, and, as she turned into the little piazza in which Palazzo -Acorari was situated, she nearly collided with Silvio, apparently -engaged in lighting a cigarette. There was nothing unusual in his being -there at that hour, for he sometimes returned to breakfast _a casa_, -especially on Thursdays, when little or no work is done in Rome in the -afternoons, and this was a Thursday. It struck her, nevertheless, that -Silvio seemed to be somewhat embarrassed by her sudden appearance round -the corner of the narrow lane which connected the piazza with the Piazza -Campitelli. His embarrassment was only momentary, however, and he -accompanied her to the _palazzo_. The cannon at San Angelo boomed -mid-day as they turned into the _portone_, and was answered by the bells -of the churches round. As they slowly mounted the staircase, a lady -came down it. Giacinta did not know her by sight, and, after she had -passed them, she half-turned to look at her, for she fancied that a -glance of mutual recognition was exchanged between her and Silvio, -though the latter raised his hat only with the formality usual in -passing an unknown lady on a staircase. The stranger seemed to hesitate -for a moment, as though she were disconcerted at seeing Silvio in -another person's company. The lady continued her way, however, and if -Giacinta had not happened to look round as she and Silvio turned the -corner of the staircase, she probably would have thought no more of her, -for she was not particularly remarkable, being merely a quietly dressed -woman, perhaps eight-and-twenty or thirty years of age, neither -good-looking nor the reverse. But, as Giacinta looked, the lady -coughed, and the cough re-echoed up the staircase. At the same time she -dropped a folded piece of paper. Apparently she was unconscious that she -had done so, for she continued to descend the stairs without turning her -head, and disappeared round the angle of the court-yard. - -"She has dropped something, Silvio," Giacinta said. "Had you not better -go after her? It is a letter, I think." - -"Of course!" Silvio answered, a little hastily. "I will catch up with -her and give it to her," and he turned and ran down the staircase as he -spoke. - -Giacinta, leaning over the balustrade, saw him pick up the piece of -paper. Then he crumpled it up and thrust it into his pocket. - -"That," said Giacinta to herself, "was not prudent of Silvio. One does -not crumple up a letter and pocket it if one is about to restore it to -its owner, unless one's pocket is its proper destination." - -Nevertheless, Silvio continued to pursue the lady, and three or four -minutes or more elapsed before he rejoined his sister. - -"Well," Giacinta observed, tranquilly. "You gave her back her letter?" - -"It was not a letter," said Silvio, "it was only a--a -memorandum--written on a scrap of paper. A thing of no importance, -Giacinta." - -"I am glad it was of no importance," returned Giacinta, not caring to -press her original question. "Do you know who she is?" she added. - -"I think," answered Silvio, carelessly, "that she must be the lady who -comes to teach the princess's daughter." - -"Step-daughter," corrected Giacinta, dryly. - -"Of course--step-daughter--I had forgotten. Do you know, Giacinta," he -continued, "that we shall be very late for breakfast?" - -It was a silent affair, that breakfast. The professor had been occupied -the whole of the morning in correcting the proofs of a new scientific -treatise, and he had even brought to the table some diagrams which he -proceeded to study between the courses. Silvio's handsome face wore a -thoughtful and worried expression, and Giacinta was engrossed with her -own reflections. - -Presently Professor Rossano broke the silence. He was eating asparagus, -and it is not easy to eat asparagus and verify diagrams at the same -time. - -"Silvio," he said, mildly, "may one ask whether it is true that you have -fallen in love?" - -Silvio started, and looked at his father with amazement. Then he -recovered himself. - -"One may ask it, certainly," he replied, "but--" - -"But one should not ask indiscreet questions, eh?" continued the -professor. "Well, falling in love is a disease like any -other--infectious in the first stage--after that, contagious--decidedly -contagious." - -Silvio laughed a little nervously. "And in the last stage?" he asked. - -"Oh, in the last stage one--peels. H one does not, the affair is -serious. I met Giacomelli yesterday--your _maestro_. He said to me: -'Senator, our excellent Silvio is in love. I am convinced that he is in -love. It is a thousand pities; because, when one is in love, one is apt -to take false measurements; and for an engineer to take false -measurements is a bad thing!' That is what Giacomelli said to me in -Piazza Colonna yesterday afternoon." - -Silvio looked evidently relieved. - -"And may one ask whom I am supposed to be in love with?" he demanded. - -"As to that," observed the professor, dryly, "you probably know best. -All that I would suggest is, that you do not allow the malady to become -too far advanced in the second stage--unless"--and here he glanced at -Giacinta--"well, unless you are quite sure that you will peel." And -with a quiet chuckle he turned to his diagrams again. - -Silvio caught his sister's eyes fixed upon him. Giacinta had perhaps -not entirely understood her father's metaphors, but it was very clear to -her that others had noticed the change she had observed in Silvio. He -had evidently been less attentive to his work than was his wont; and the -eminent engineer under whom he had studied and made a name for himself, -becoming aware of the fact, had unconsciously divined the true cause of -it. The Commendatore Giacomelli had doubtless spoken in jest to the -father of his favorite pupil, thinking that a parental hint might be -useful in helping Silvio to return to his former diligence. Giacinta -knew her father's good-natured cynicism well enough, and felt certain -that, though treating the matter as a joke, he had intended to let -Silvio know that his superiors had noticed some falling off in his work. - -But Giacinta was, unfortunately, only too sure that the right nail had -been hit on the head, even if the blow had fallen accidentally. She did -not feel uneasy lest her father should discover the fact, nor, if he did -so, that he would make any efforts to discover the quarter in which -Silvio's affections were engaged. The professor lived a life very much -of his own, and his nature was a singularly detached one. His attitude -towards the world was that of a quiet and not inappreciative spectator -of a high comedy. His interests were centred in the stage, and also in -the stage-machinery, and he was always ready to be amused or to -sympathize as the case might be, in the passing scenes which that -complex machinery produced. Giacinta often wondered whether her father -ever thought of the possibility of her marriage, or ever considered that -her position as an only daughter was somewhat a lonely one. He had -never made the faintest allusion to the subject to her; but she was sure -that if she were suddenly to announce to him that she was going to -marry, he would receive the information placidly enough, and, when once -he had satisfied himself that she had chosen wisely, would think no more -about the matter. And it would be the same thing as far as Silvio was -concerned--only, in Silvio's case, if Donna Bianca Acorari were the -object on which he had set his affections, Giacinta was certain that the -professor would not consider the choice a wise one. He had a great -dislike to anything in the nature of social unpleasantness, as have many -clever people who live in a detached atmosphere of their own. In print, -or in a lecture-room, he could hit hard enough, and appeared to be -utterly indifferent as to how many enemies he made, or how many pet -theories he exploded by a logic which was at times irritatingly humorous -and at times severely caustic. But, apart from his pen and his -conferences, the Senator Rossano was merely a placid individual, -slightly past middle age, with a beard inclining to gray, and a broad, -intellectual forehead from under which a pair of keen, brown eyes looked -upon life good-naturedly enough. Perhaps the greatest charm about -Professor Rossano was his genuine simplicity--the simplicity which is -occasionally, but by no means always, the accompaniment of intellectual -power, and the possession of which usually denotes that power to be of a -very high order. This simplicity deceived others not infrequently, but -it never deceived him; on the contrary, it was perpetually adding to his -knowledge, scientific and otherwise. - -Both Professor Rossano's children had inherited something of their -father's nature, but Silvio had inherited it in a more complex way, -perhaps, than his sister. In him the scientific tendency had shown -itself in the more practical form of a love for the purely mechanical -and utilitarian. Nevertheless, he had the same detached nature, the same -facility for regarding life from the objective point of view, as his -father, and the same good-humored if slightly cynical disposition. Of -the two, Giacinta was probably the more completely practical, and had, -perhaps, the harder disposition. Nor was this unnatural; for their -mother had died when Silvio was a child between five and six years old, -and Giacinta, being then nearly eight, had speedily acquired a certain -sense of responsibility, which, owing to the professor's absorption in -his scientific researches, largely increased as time went on. But -Giacinta, also, had her full share of good-nature and sympathy, though -she was incapable of, as it were, holding herself mentally aloof from -the world around her as did her father and, to a certain degree, her -brother. - -Breakfast over, Professor Rossano soon retired again to the correction -of his proofs, leaving Giacinta and Silvio alone together. For a short -time neither of them spoke, and Silvio apparently devoted his whole -attention to the proper roasting of the end of a "Verginia" cigar in the -flame of a candle. Giacinta meditated on the possible contents of the -piece of paper that she felt positive was still lying in a crumpled -condition in her brother's pocket, and wondered what particular part the -lady who had passed them on the staircase might be playing in the -business--though she had already made a very natural guess at it. She -would have given a good deal to know whether the note--or the -memorandum, as Silvio had called it, with a possibly unconscious humor -that had made Giacinta smile--was written by Bianca Acorari herself or -by the quietly dressed young person who was, no doubt, Bianca's daily -governess. If it were from Donna Bianca, then things must have advanced -to what the professor would have termed the contagious stage--only -Giacinta did not employ that simile, its suggestiveness having escaped -her--which would be a decidedly serious affair. If, however, as was far -more probable, the missive came from the governess, who had been -disappointed of the expected opportunity to give it to Silvio -unobserved, and so had dropped it for him to pick up, the matter was -serious, too, but not so serious. If Silvio had won over the governess -to aid him in furthering his plans, Giacinta thought that she, too, -might manage to do a little corrupting on her own account with the same -individual. It did not immediately strike her that Silvio's sex, as -well as his particularly attractive face and personality, might have -removed many difficulties out of his path in dealing with the -demure-looking female who devoted three hours a day to the improvement -of Donna Bianca's education. - -Presently, Giacinta became restive under the prolonged silence which -followed the professor's departure from the room. - -"You see, Silvio," she observed, as though she were merely continuing an -interrupted conversation, "it is not only I who notice that you have had -your head in the clouds lately--oh, ever since Christmas. And first of -all, people will say: 'He is in love'--as Giacomelli said to papa -yesterday; and then they will begin to ask: 'Who is the girl?' And -then, very soon, some busybody will find out. It is always like that. -And then--" - -"Yes, Giacinta--and then?" repeated Silvio. - -"I will tell you!" returned Giacinta, decidedly. "Then that priest, -Monsieur l'Abbe Roux, as they call him, will be sent by the princess to -see papa, and there will be well, a terrible _disturbo_--" - -"The Abbe Roux can go to hell," observed Silvio. - -"Afterwards--yes, perhaps. Papa has several times given him a similar -permission. But in the mean time he will make matters exceedingly -unpleasant. After all, Silvio," Giacinta continued, "let us be -reasonable. The girl is an heiress--a princess in her own right, and -we--we are not noble. You know what the world would say." - -Silvio Rossano glanced at her. - -"We are Romans," he said, "of a family as old as the Acorari themselves. -It is true that we are not noble. Perhaps, when we look at some of those -who are, it is as well! But we are not poor, either, Giacinta--not so -poor as to have to be fed by rich American and English adventurers at -the Grand Hotel, like some of your nobles." - -Giacinta shrugged her shoulders. "Donna Bianca Acorari is of that -class," she said, quietly. - -Silvio instantly flew into a rage. "That is so like a woman!" he -retorted. "Do you suppose I meant to imply that all our nobles are like -that? Each class has its _canaglia_, and the pity of it is that the -foreigners as a rule see more of our _canaglia_ than they do of the -rest, and judge us accordingly. As to Donna Bianca Acorari, we can -leave her name out of the discussion--" - -Giacinta laughed. "Scarcely," she said; "but, Silvio _mio_, you must -not be angry. You know that I do not care at all whether people are -noble by birth or whether they are not. All the same, I think you are -preparing for yourself a great deal of mortification; and for that girl, -if you make her care for you, a great deal of unhappiness. You see how -she is isolated. Does anybody, even of their own world, ever come to -visit the princess and Donna Bianca? A few old women come occasionally, -and a few priests--but that is all. Who or what the girl is being kept -for I do not know--but it is certainly not for marriage with one not of -her condition. Besides, except as her _fidanzato_, what opportunity -could you have, or ever hope to have, of seeing her or of knowing what -her feelings might be towards you?" - -"And if I know them already?" burst out Silvio. - -Giacinta looked grave. - -"If you know them already," she said, "it means--well, it means that -somebody has been behaving like an idiot." - -"I, for instance!" exclaimed Silvio. - -"Certainly, you--before anybody, you. Afterwards--" - -"Afterwards--?" - -"The woman who dropped the note that you have in your pocket." - -"Giacinta!" - -"Oh, I am not an imbecile, you know, Silvio. You were waiting for that -woman to come away from her morning's lessons with Bianca, and I do not -suppose it is the first time that you have waited for her--and--and, -what is to be the end of it all, Heaven only knows," concluded Giacinta. -It was a weak conclusion, and she was fully aware of the fact; but a -look on Silvio's face warned her that she had said enough for the -moment. - -He took his cigar from his lips and threw it out of the open window. -Then, rising from his chair, he came and stood by his sister. - -"I will tell you the end of it," he said, very quietly--and his eyes -seemed to send forth little flashes of light as he spoke. "The end of -it will be that I will marry Bianca Acorari. You quite understand, -Giacinta? Noble or not, heiress or not, I will marry her, and she will -marry me." - -"But, Silvio--it is impossible--it is a madness--" - -"_Basta_! I say that I will marry her. Have I failed yet in anything -that I have set myself to do, Giacinta? But you," he added, in a -sterner voice than Giacinta had ever heard from him--"you will keep -silence. You will know nothing, see nothing. If the time comes when I -need your help, I will come to you and ask you to give it me, as I would -give it you." - -Giacinta was silent for a moment. Then she plucked up her courage to -make one more effort to stem the current of a passion that she felt -would carry Silvio away with it, she knew not whither. - -"But the girl," she said, "she is almost a child still, Silvio. Have -you thought what unhappiness you may bring upon her if--if the princess, -and that priest who, they say, manages all her affairs, should prove too -strong for you? You do not know; they might put her in a -convent--anywhere--to get her away from you." - -Silvio Rossano swore under his breath. - -"_Basta_, Giacinta!" he exclaimed again. "I say that I will marry her." - -And then, before Giacinta had time to reply, he suddenly kissed her and -went quickly out of the room. - - - - - *V* - - -Giacinto Rossano was quite mistaken in supposing the piece of paper she -had seen her brother thrust into his pocket to have been still there -when he returned to her after its pretended restoration to its rightful -owner. As a matter of fact, a capricious April breeze was blowing its -scattered remnants about the court-yard of Palazzo Acorari, for Silvio -had torn it into little shreds so soon as he had read the words written -upon it. - -She had been perfectly correct, however, in her other suppositions, for -since Silvio had first beheld Donna Bianca in the church of the Sudario -on Christmas night, he had certainly not wasted his time. He had been, -it is true, considerably dismayed at learning from Giacinta who the girl -was who had so immediate and so powerful an attraction for him. Had she -been almost anything else than what she was, he thought to himself -impatiently, the situation would have been a far simpler one; but -between him and the heiress and last remaining representative of the -Acorari, princes of Montefiano, there was assuredly a great gulf fixed, -not in rank only, but in traditional prejudices of caste, in -politics--even, it might be said, in religion--since Bianca Acorari no -doubt implicitly believed all that the Church proposed to be believed, -while he, like most educated laymen, believed--considerably less. - -Perhaps the very difficulties besetting his path made Silvio Rossano the -more determined to conquer them and tread that path to the end. What he -had said of himself to his sister, not in any spirit of conceit, but -rather in the confident assurance which his youth and ardent temperament -gave him, was true. When he had set his mind on success, he had always -gained it in the end; and why should he not gain it now? - -After all, there were things in his favor. Although he might not be of -noble blood, his family was a good and an old one. There had been -Rossano in Rome before a peasant of the name of Borghese became a pope -and turned his relations into princes. One of these early Rossano, -indeed, had been a cardinal. But, unluckily for the family, he had also -been a conscientious priest and an honest man--a combination rarely to -be met with in the Sacred College of those days. - -But there were other things to which Silvio attached more weight--things -of the present which must ever appeal to youth more than those of the -past. His father was a distinguished man; and he himself might -have--nay, would have--a distinguished career before him. Money, too, -was not wanting to him. The professor was not a rich man; but he had -considerably more capital to divide between his two children than many -people possessed who drove up and down the Corso with coronets on their -carriages, while their creditors saluted them from the pavements. - -And there were yet other things which Silvio, reflecting upon the wares -he had to go to market with, thought he might fairly take into account, -details such as good character, good health, and--well, for some reason -or other, women had never looked unfavorably upon him, though he had -hitherto been singularly indifferent as to whether they did so or not. -Something--the professor would no doubt have found a scientific -explanation of a radio-active nature for it--told him, even in that -instant when he first met her glance, that Bianca Acorari did not find -him _antipatico_. He wondered very much how far he had been able to -convey to her his impressions as regarded herself. - -In an incredibly short space of time it had become absolutely necessary -to him to satisfy his curiosity on this point--hence that sudden desire -to attend the early masses at Santa Maria in Campitelli, which had done -more than anything else to arouse Giacinta's suspicions. - -For some weeks, however, Silvio had been absolutely foiled in his -attempts again to find himself near Bianca Acorari. He had very quickly -realized that any efforts on his sister's part to improve her -acquaintance with the girl would be detrimental rather than the reverse -to his own objects, and he had, consequently, soon ceased to urge -Giacinta to make them. But Silvio Rossano had not spent several years -of his boyhood in drawing plans and making calculations for nothing; and -he had set himself to think out the situation in much the same spirit as -that in which he would have grappled with a professional problem -demanding accurate solution. - -Occasionally he had caught glimpses of Bianca as she went out driving -with the princess, and once or twice he had seen her walking in the -early morning, accompanied by the same woman who had been with her in -the Sudario. It had been impossible, of course, for him to venture to -salute her, even if he had not fancied that her companion eyed him -sharply, as though suspecting that his proximity was not merely -accidental. - -Bettina was probably unconscious that she had been more than once the -subject of a searching study on the part of the _signorino_ of the -second floor, as she called him. But the results of the study were -negative, for Silvio had instinctively felt that any attempt to suborn -Donna Bianca's maid would almost certainly prove disastrous. The woman -was not young enough to be romantic, he thought, with some shrewdness, -nor old enough to be avaricious. - -And so he had found himself obliged to discover a weaker point in the -defences of Casa Acorari, and this time fortune favored him; though in -those calmer moments, when scruples of conscience are apt to become so -tiresome, he felt somewhat ashamed of himself for taking advantage of -it. - -It had not escaped Silvio's notice that punctually at nine o'clock every -morning a neatly dressed Frenchwoman entered Palazzo Acorari, and was -admitted into the princess's apartment, and the porter informed him that -she was the _principessina's_ governess, who came from nine o'clock till -twelve every day, excepting Sundays and the great _feste_. - -Silvio studied Donna Bianca's governess as he had studied her maid. -Mademoiselle Durand was certainly much younger than the latter, and -better looking. Moreover, unlike Bettina, she did not look at Silvio -witheringly when she happened to meet him in or near Palazzo Acorari, -but perhaps a little the reverse. At any rate, after a few mornings on -which bows only were exchanged between them, Silvio felt that he might -venture to remark on the beauty of the spring weather. He spoke French -fluently, though with the usual unmistakable Italian accent, and his -overtures were well received. - -Mademoiselle Durand smiled pleasantly. "Monsieur lived in Palazzo -Acorari, did he not? A son of the famous Professor Rossano? Ah, -yes--she had heard him lecture at the Collegio Romano. But perhaps it -would be as well not to say so to Madame la Princesse. Madame la -Princesse did not approve of science"--and Mademoiselle Durand looked at -him, smiling again. Then she colored a little, for her glance had been -one of obvious admiration, though Silvio, full of his own thoughts, was -not aware of it. - -After that, the ice once broken, it had been an easy matter to become -fairly intimate with Donna Bianca's instructress. Knowing the precise -hour at which she was accustomed to leave Palazzo Acorari, Silvio -frequently managed to meet her as she crossed the Piazza Campitelli on -her way back to her abode in the Via d'Ara Coeli, where she occupied a -couple of rooms over a small curiosity shop. - -Fortunately, probably, for Silvio, Mademoiselle Durand very soon -discovered that it was due to no special interest in herself if this -good-looking young Roman sought her acquaintance. It had scarcely -struck him that his advances might easily be misinterpreted; and, -indeed, for the space of a few days there had been not a little danger -of this misinterpretation actually occurring. The shrewdness of her -race, however, had prevented Mademoiselle Durand from deceiving herself; -and Silvio's questions, which he flattered himself were triumphs of -subtle diplomacy, speedily revealed to her how and where the land lay. - -On the whole, the thought of lending herself to a little intrigue rather -commended itself to the Frenchwoman. Life in Rome was not very amusing, -and to be the confidante in a love-affair, and especially in such an -apparently hopeless love-affair, would add an interest to it. Perhaps a -little of the sentimentality, the existence of which in Bettina Silvio -had doubted, entered into the matter. Mademoiselle Durand liked her -pupil, and had always secretly pitied her for the dulness and isolation -of her life; and as for Silvio--well, when he looked at her with his -soft Roman eyes, and seemed to be throwing himself upon her generosity -and compassion, Mademoiselle Durand felt that she would do anything in -the world he asked her to do. The Princess of Montefiano she regarded -as a mere machine in the hands of the Abbe Roux. Though she had only -been a few moments in her present position, Mademoiselle Durand had -fully realized that the Abbe Roux was master in the Montefiano -establishment; and, though she had been highly recommended to the -princess by most pious people, she entertained a cordial dislike to -priests except in church, where, she averred, they were necessary to the -business, and no doubt useful enough. - -"It is Monsieur l'Abbe of whom you must beware," she insisted to Silvio, -after she was in full possession of his secret. "The princess is an -imbecile--so engaged in trying to secure a good place in the next world -that she has made herself a nonentity in this. No--it is of the priest -you must think. I do not suppose it would suit him that Donna Bianca -should marry." - -"Does he want to put her in a convent, then?" asked Silvio, angrily, on -hearing this remark. - -"But no, Monsieur Silvio! Convents are like husbands--they want a -dowry." She looked at Silvio sharply as she spoke, but it was clear to -her that he was quite unconscious of any possible allusion to himself in -her words. - -"It is true, mademoiselle," he answered, thoughtfully. "I forgot that. -It is a very unlucky thing that Donna Bianca Acorari has not half a -dozen brothers and as many sisters; for then she would have very little -money, I should imagine, and no titles." - -Mademoiselle Durand hesitated for a moment. Then she looked at him -again, and this time her black eyes no longer had the same shrewd, -suspicious expression. - -"_Tiens!_" she muttered to herself; and then she said, aloud: "And what -do you want me to do for you, Monsieur Silvio? You have not confided in -me for nothing--_hein_? Am I to take your proposals for Donna Bianca's -hand to Madame la Princesse? It seems to me that monsieur your father -is the fit and proper person to send on such an errand, and not a poor -governess." - -"_Per Carita!_" exclaimed Silvio, relapsing in his alarm into his native -tongue. "Of course I do not mean that, mademoiselle. I thought -perhaps--that is to say, I hoped--" - -He looked so disconcerted that Mademoiselle Durand laughed outright. - -"No, _mon ami_," she replied. "I may call you that, Monsieur Silvio, -may I not, since conspirators should be friends? I promise you I will -not give your secret away. All the same, unless I am mistaken, there is -one person to whom you wish me to confide it--is it not so?" - -"Yes," replied Silvio; "there is certainly one person." - -"But it will not be easy," continued Mademoiselle Durand, "and it will -take time. Yes," she added, as though to herself--"it will be fairly -amusing to outwit Monsieur l'Abbe--only--only--" and then she paused, -hesitatingly. - -"Only?" repeated Silvio, interrogatively. - -"_Ma foi_, monsieur, only this," exclaimed his companion, energetically, -"that I like the child, and I do not wish any harm to come to her -through me. Have you thought well, Monsieur Silvio? You say that you -love her, and that she can learn to love you; you will marry her if she -be twenty times Princess of Montefiano. Well, I believe that you love -her; and if a good countenance is any proof of a good heart, your love -should be worth having. But if you make her love you, and are not -strong enough to break down the barriers which will be raised to prevent -her from marrying you, will you not be bringing on her a greater -unhappiness than if you left her to her natural destiny?" - -Silvio was silent for a moment. Was this not what Giacinta had said to -him more than once? Then a dogged expression came over his face--his -eyes seemed to harden suddenly, and his lips compressed themselves. - -"Her destiny is to be my wife," he said, briefly. - -Mademoiselle Durand shot a quick glance of approval at him. - -"_Diable!_" she exclaimed, "but you Romans have wills of your own even -in these days, it seems. And suppose the girl never learns to care for -you--how then, Monsieur Silvio? Will you carry her off as your -ancestors did the Sabine women?" - -Silvio shrugged his shoulders. "She will learn to care for me," he -said, "if she is properly taught." - -Mademoiselle Durand laughed. "_Tiens!_" she murmured again. "And I am -to give her a little rudimentary instruction--to prepare her, in short, -for more advanced knowledge? Oh, la, la! Monsieur Silvio, you must -know that such things do not come within the province of a daily -governess." - -"But you see her for three hours every day," returned Silvio, earnestly. -"In three hours one can do a great deal," he continued. - -"A great deal too much sometimes!" interrupted Mademoiselle Durand -rapidly, under her breath. - -"And when it is day after day," proceeded Silvio, "it is much easier. A -word here, and a word there, and she would soon learn that there is -somebody who loves her--somebody who would make her a better husband -than some brainless idiot of her own class, who will only want her money -and her lands. And then, perhaps, if we could meet--if she could hear -it all from my lips, she would understand." - -Mademoiselle Durand gave a quick little sigh. "Oh," she said, "if she -could learn it all from your lips, I have no doubt that she would -understand very quickly. Most women would, Monsieur Silvio." - -"That is what I thought," observed Silvio, naively. - -The Frenchwoman tapped her foot impatiently on the ground. - -"Well," she said, after a pause, "I will see what I can do. But you must -be patient. Only, do not blame me if things go wrong--for they are -scarcely likely to go right, I should say. For me it does not matter. -I came to Rome to learn Italian and to teach French--and other things. -I have done both; and in any case, when my engagement with Madame la -Princesse is over, I shall return to Paris, and then perhaps go to -London or Petersburg--who knows? So if my present engagement were to -end somewhat abruptly, I should be little the worse. Yes--I will help -you, _mon ami_--if I can. Oh, not for money--I am not of that sort--but -for--well, for other things." - -"What other things?" asked Silvio, absently. - -Mademoiselle Durand fairly stamped her foot this time. - -"_Peste!_" she exclaimed, sharply. "What do they matter--the other -things? Let us say that I want to play a trick on the princess; to -spite the priest--by-the-way, Monsieur l'Abbe sometimes looks at me in a -way that I am sure you never look at women, Monsieur Silvio! Let us say -that I am sorry for that poor child, who will lead a stagnant existence -till she is a dried-up old maid, unless somebody rescues her. All these -things are true, and are they not reasons enough?" - -And Silvio was quite satisfied that they were so. - - - - - *VI* - - -Bianca Acorari was sitting by herself in the room devoted to her own -especial use, where she studied in the mornings with Mademoiselle -Durand, and, indeed, spent most of her time. It was now the beginning -of June--the moment in all the year, perhaps, when Rome is the most -enjoyable; when the hotels are empty, and the foreigners have fled -before the imaginary spectres of heat, malaria, and other evils to which -those who remain in the city during the late spring and summer are -popularly supposed to fall victims. - -Entertainments, except those of an intimate character, being at an end, -the American invasion has rolled northward. The gaunt English spinsters, -severe of aspect, and with preposterous feet, who have spent the winter -in the environs of the Piazza di Spagna with the double object of -improving their minds and converting some of the "poor, ignorant Roman -Catholics" to Protestantism, have gone northward too, to make merriment -for the inhabitants of Perugia, or Sienna, of Venice, and a hundred -other hunting-grounds. Only the German tourists remain, carrying with -them the atmosphere of the _bierhalle_ wherever they go, and generally -behaving themselves as though Italy were a province of the fatherland. -In the summer months Rome is her true self, and those who know her not -then know her not at all. - -To Bianca Acorari, however, all seasons of the year were much the same, -excepting the three months or so that she passed in the villa near -Velletri. To these months she looked forward with delight. The dull -routine of her life in Rome was interrupted, and any variety was -something in the nature of an excitement. It was pleasanter to be able -to wander about the gardens and vineyards belonging to the villa than to -drive about Rome in a closed carriage, waiting perhaps for an hour or -more outside some convent or charitable institution while her -step-mother was engaged in pious works. At the Villa Acorari, she could -at all events walk about by herself, so long as she did not leave its -grounds. But these grounds were tolerably extensive, and there were many -quiet nooks whither Bianca was wont to resort and dream over what might -be going on in that world around her, of which she supposed it must be -the natural lot of princesses to know very little. The absence of -perpetual supervision, the sense of being free to be alone out-of-doors -if she chose to be so, was a luxury all the more enjoyable after eight -months spent in Palazzo Acorari. - -But within the last few weeks Bianca Acorari had become vaguely -conscious of the presence of something fresh in her life, something as -yet indefinable, but around which her thoughts, hitherto purely -abstract, seemed to concentrate themselves. The world was no longer -quite the unknown realm peopled with shadows that it had till recently -appeared to her to be. It held individuals; individuals in whom she -could take an interest, and who, if she was to believe what she was -told, took an interest in her. That it was a forbidden interest--a -thing to be talked about with bated breath, and that only to one -discreet and sympathizing friend, did not by any means diminish its -fascination. - -It had spoken well for Mademoiselle Durand's capabilities of reading the -characters of her pupils that she had at once realized that what Bianca -Acorari lacked in her life was human sympathy. This the girl had never -experienced; but, all the same, it was evident to any one who, like -Mademoiselle Durand, had taken the trouble to study her nature, that she -was unconsciously crying out for it. There was, indeed, not a person -about her with whom she had anything in common. The princess, wrapped -up in her religion and in her anxiety to keep her own soul in a proper -state of polish, was an egoist, as people perpetually bent upon laying -up for themselves treasure in heaven usually are. And Bianca -practically had no other companion than her stepmother except servants, -for the few people she occasionally saw at rare intervals did not enter -in the smallest degree into her life. - -Mademoiselle Durand had very soon discovered Bianca's desire to know the -girl who lived in the apartment above her, and her annoyance that she -had not been allowed to make any acquaintance with the Signorina -Rossano. This very natural wish on her pupil's part to make friends -with some one of her own sex, and more nearly approaching her own age -than the people by whom she was surrounded, had afforded Mademoiselle -Durand the very opening she required in order to commence her campaign -in Silvio Rossano's interests. As she had anticipated, it had proved no -difficult matter to sing the praises of the brother while apparently -conversing with Bianca about the sister, and it must be confessed that -she sang Silvio's praises in a manner by no means half-hearted. Nor did -Mademoiselle Durand find that her efforts fell upon altogether unwilling -ears. It was evident that in some way or another Bianca's curiosity had -been already aroused, and that she was not altogether ignorant of the -fact that the heretical professor's good-looking son regarded her with -some interest. - -Mademoiselle Durand, indeed, was somewhat surprised at the readiness -displayed by her pupil to discuss not only Giacinta, but also Giacinta's -brother, and she at first suspected that things were a little further -advanced than Silvio had pretended to be the case. - -She soon came to the conclusion, however, that this was not so, and that -Bianca's curiosity was at present the only feeling which had been -aroused in her. - -Mademoiselle Durand was not particularly well-read in her Bible; but she -did remember that curiosity in woman had, from the very beginning of -things, been gratified by man, and also that the action of a third party -had before now been necessary in order to bring the desired object -within the reach of both. She was aware that the action of the third -party had not been regarded as commendable; nevertheless, she quieted -any qualms of conscience by the thought that, after all, circumstances -in this case were somewhat different. - -On this particular June afternoon Bianca Acorari was free to amuse -herself in-doors as she chose until five o'clock, at which hour the -princess had ordered the carriage, and Bianca would have to accompany -her to visit an orphanage outside the Porta Pia. She was not at all -sorry for those orphans. An orphan herself, she had always thought -their life must be certainly more amusing than her own, and she had once -ventured to hint as much, to the manifest annoyance of her step-mother, -who had reproved her for want of charity. - -The afternoon was warm, and Bianca, tired of reading, and still more -tired of a certain piece of embroidery destined to serve as an -altar-frontal for a convent-chapel, sat dreaming in the subdued light -coming through closed _persiennes_. Through the open windows she could -hear the distant noise of the traffic in the streets, the monotonous cry -of _Fragole! Fragole!_ of the hawkers of fresh strawberries from Nemi -and the Alban Hills, and now and again the clock of some neighboring -church striking the quarters of the hour. - -In a little more than a fortnight, Bianca was saying to herself with -satisfaction--when St. Peter's day was over, before which festival the -princess would never dream of leaving Rome--she would be at the Villa -Acorari, away from the dust and the glare of the city, passing those hot -hours of the day in the deep, cool shade of the old ilex-trees, and -listening to the murmur of the moss-grown fountains in the quiet -grounds, half garden and half wilderness, that surrounded the house. - -The view from the ilex avenue seemed to unfold itself before her--the -vine-clad ridges melting away into the plain beneath, Cori, Norma, and -Sermoneta just visible, perched on the distant mountain-sides away -towards the south; and, rising out of the blue mist, with the sea -flashing in the sunlight around it, Monte Circeo, the scene of so many -mysterious legends both in the past and in the present. Far away over -the Campagna the hot summer haze quivered over Rome. Bianca could see -it all in her imagination as she sat with her hands clasped behind her -tawny mass of curling hair; though, in reality, her eyes were fastened -upon an indifferent painting of a Holy Family, in which St. Joseph -appeared more conscious than usual of being _de trop_. - -The three hours of studies with Mademoiselle Durand that morning had -been frequently interrupted by conversation. Of late, indeed, this had -often been the case. Bianca had been delighted when she learned that -Mademoiselle Durand was intimate with the Rossano family, and the -governess had not thought it necessary to explain that Silvio was the -only member of it with whom she was on speaking terms. - -The fact was that Silvio had been becoming impatient lately, and -Mademoiselle Durand's task grew more difficult in consequence. To -afford him any opportunity of meeting Bianca, or of interchanging even a -single word with her, appeared to be impossible. The girl was too well -guarded. Mademoiselle Durand had once suggested to her that she should -take her some morning to the galleries in the Vatican which Bianca had -never seen. The princess's permission had, of course, to be obtained, -and Bianca broached the subject one day at breakfast. For a moment her -step-mother had hesitated, and seemed disposed to allow her to accept -Mademoiselle Durand's proposition. Unfortunately, however, Monsieur -l'Abbe was present, and, true to her practice, the princess appealed to -him as to whether there could be any objections. - -Apparently there were objections, although the Abbe Roux did not specify -them. But Bianca knew by his manner that he disapproved of the idea, -and was not surprised, therefore, when the princess said it could not -be--adding that she would herself take her through the Vatican some day. - -It was but another instance, Bianca thought, of the priest's -interference in her life, and she resented it accordingly. Latterly she -had become much more friendly with Mademoiselle Durand, who had at first -confined herself almost entirely to lessons during the hours she was at -Palazzo Acorari. - -Nevertheless, after it became evident that she would never be allowed to -go out under her escort, Bianca thought it prudent not to let it be -supposed that Mademoiselle Durand talked with her on any other subject -but those she was engaged to talk about, lest she should be dismissed -and a less agreeable woman take her place. - -Whether it was that Mademoiselle Durand was urged to stronger efforts by -Silvio Rossano's increasing impatience, or whether she considered the -time arrived when she could safely venture to convey to her pupil that -Giacinta Rossano's good-looking brother was madly in love with her, the -fact remained on this particular morning that never before had she -spoken so much or so openly of Silvio, and of the happiness that was in -store for any girl sensible enough to marry him. - -Bianca Acorari sat listening in silence for some time. - -"He is certainly very handsome," she observed, presently--"and he looks -good," she added, meditatively. - -"Handsome!" ejaculated Mademoiselle Durand. "There is a statue in the -Vatican--a Hermes, they call it-- Well, never mind--of course he is -handsome. And as to being good, a young man who is a good son and a -good brother makes a good husband--if he gets the wife he wants. If -not, it does not follow. I am sorry for that poor boy--truly sorry for -him!" she added, with a sigh. - -Bianca pushed away a French history book and became suddenly more -interested. - -"Why, mademoiselle?" she asked. - -Mademoiselle Durand pursed up her lips. - -"Because I fear that he will certainly be very unhappy. _Enfin_, he _is_ -very unhappy, so there is no more to be said." - -"He did not look it when I saw him," observed Bianca, tranquilly. - -Mademoiselle Durand glanced at her. Like Princess Montefiano, she was -never quite sure how much might be concealed beneath Bianca's quiet -manner. But, like most of her race, she was quick to seize a point in -conversation and use it to advance her own argument. - -"Of course he did not look it--when you saw him," she repeated, "or when -he saw you," she added, significantly. - -Bianca knitted her brows. "If he is unhappy," she said, "and I am very -sorry he should be unhappy--I do not see how a person he does not know -can make him less so." - -"That," said Mademoiselle Durand, "all depends on who the person is. It -is certainly very sad--poor young man!" and she sighed again. - -"I suppose," Bianca said, thoughtfully, "that he is in love with -somebody--somebody whom he cannot marry." - -"Yes," returned Mademoiselle Durand, dryly, "he is in love with -somebody. He could marry her, perhaps--" - -"Then why doesn't he?" Bianca asked, practically. - -Mademoiselle Durand was a little taken aback at the abruptness of the -question. - -"I will tell you," she replied, after hesitating for a moment or two. -"He has no opportunity of seeing the girl, except sometimes as she is -driving in her carriage, or well, in church. By-the-way, I believe he -first saw her in a church, and fell in love with her. That was odd, was -it not? But what is the use of seeing people if you can never speak to -them?" - -"He could speak to her parents," said Bianca, who apparently knew what -was proper under such circumstances. - -Mademoiselle Durand shrugged her shoulders. - -"Scarcely," she said, "since they are in heaven. Besides, he would not -be allowed to ask for this girl's hand in any case. She is like you, of -noble birth; and, like you again, she is rich. Those about her, I dare -say, are not very anxious that she should marry at all. It is -possible." - -Bianca Acorari did not speak for a few moments. At length she said, -slowly: "I wonder what you would do, mademoiselle, if you knew somebody -was in love with you, and you were not allowed to see or speak to that -person?" - -Mademoiselle Durand looked at her critically. - -"It entirely depends," she replied. - -"And upon what?" - -"Upon what? Oh, upon something very simple. It would depend upon -whether I were in love with him." - -"I don't think it is at all simple," observed Bianca. "How would you -know if you were in love with him or not?" - -Mademoiselle Durand laughed outright. Then she became suddenly grave. -"Well," she replied, after hesitating a moment, "I will tell you. If I -thought I did not know--if I were not sure--I should say to myself: -'Marie, you are in love. Why? Because, if you are not, you would be -sure of the fact--oh, quite sure!'" - -"And supposing you were in love with him?" demanded Bianca. She looked -beyond Mademoiselle Durand as she spoke. - -"Ah--if I were, then--well, then I should leave the rest to him to -manage. Between ourselves, I believe that to be what is troubling the -poor young Rossano. He does not know if the girl he loves has any idea -that he does so, and still less if she could ever return his love. It -is very sad. If I were that girl, I should certainly find some means of -letting him know that I cared for him--" - -"But you say she cannot--that she would never be allowed--" - -Mademoiselle Durand sang the first few bars of the _habanera_ in -"Carmen" to herself. "When two people are in love," she observed, "they -do not always stop to think of what is allowed. But, if you please, -Donna Bianca, we will go on with our history--I mean, our French -history, not that of Monsieur Silvio Rossano," and Mademoiselle Durand -suddenly reassumed her professional demeanor. - -It was of this little interlude in her morning's studies that Bianca -Acorari was meditating as she sat waiting for the hour when she would -have to accompany her step-mother in her afternoon drive. She wished -that Mademoiselle Durand would have been more communicative. It was -certainly interesting to hear about Giacinta Rossano's brother. Silvio! -Yes, it was a nice name, decidedly--and somehow, she thought, it suited -its owner. It must be an odd sensation--that of being in love. Perhaps -one always saw in the imagination the person one was in love with. One -saw a well-built figure and a sun-tanned face with dark, curling hair -clustering over a broad brow, and a pair of dark-blue eyes that -looked--but, how they looked! as though asking a perpetual question.... -How pleasant it would be there in the gardens of Villa Acorari!--so -quiet and cool in the deep shade of the ilex-trees, with the sound of -the water falling from the fountains. But it was a little dull to be -alone--always alone. What a difference if she had had a brother, as -Giacinta Rossano had. He would have wandered about with her sometimes, -perhaps, in these gardens ... and he and she would have sat and talked -together by the fountains where the water was always making a soft music -of its own. What was the story she had heard the people tell of some -heathen god of long ago who haunted the ilex grove? How still it -was--and how the water murmured always ... and the eyes looked at her, -always with that question in their blue depths--and the graceful head -with its short, close curls bent towards her ... the god, of -course--they said he often came--and how his sweet curved lips smiled at -her as he stood in that chequered ray of sunlight slanting through the -heavy foliage overhead.... - -And with a little sigh Bianca passed from dreaming into sleep; her face, -with its crown of tawny gold hair, thrown into sharp relief by the red -damask cushions of the chair on which she was sitting, and her lips -parted in a slight smile. - - - - - *VII* - - -"Bianca is certainly a strange child," the Princess Montefiano was -saying. "I confess I do not understand her; but then, I never did -understand children." - -Baron d'Antin looked at his sister, and then he smiled a little -satirically. - -"After all," he replied, "the fact is not surprising. You married too -late in your life--or, shall we say, too late in your husband's -life--but it does not matter! No, Bianca is decidedly not like other -girls of her age, in certain ways. But I think, Jeanne, that you make a -mistake in regarding her as a child. She seems to me to be a fairly -well-developed young woman." - -"Physically so, perhaps," returned the princess. - -Her brother smiled again--not a very pleasant smile. Monsieur d'Antin -was scarcely middle-aged, being a good many years younger than his -sister. He was tall for a Belgian, and tolerably handsome, with -well-cut, regular features, and iron-gray hair as yet fairly plentiful. -But he was a man who looked as though he had "lived." His eyes had a -worn, faded expression, which every now and then turned to a hard -glitter when they became animated; and his small, well-shaped hands were -apt to move restlessly, as though their owner's nerves were not always -in the best of order. - -"Physically?" he repeated. "Precisely, my dear Jeanne. Physically, your -step-daughter is--well, no longer a child, we will suppose. Some young -man will probably suppose the same thing one of these days; and he will -presumably not wish to confine himself to suppositions," and Monsieur -d'Antin blinked his eyes interrogatively at his sister. - -During the last couple of years, Baron d'Antin had abandoned Brussels -and Paris, where he had hitherto passed the greater part of his time, -for Rome. He had certainly not chosen Rome as a place of residence on -account of its worldly attractions, and its other claims to interest did -not particularly appeal to him. As a matter of fact, Monsieur d'Antin -found Rome exceedingly dull, as a city. It is, indeed, scarcely the -capital that a man of pleasure would elect to live in. Now Monsieur -d'Antin had certainly been a man of pleasure while his constitution and -years had allowed him to be so, and he still liked amusing himself and -being amused. Unfortunately, however, when necessity obliged him to -pursue other pastimes with greater moderation, he had given way more and -more to a passion for gambling, and he had left the larger portion of -his patrimony in clubs, both in his own capital, in Paris, and in Nice. -It was not unnatural, perhaps, that, on financial disaster overtaking -him, he should have remembered his sister, the Princess of Montefiano, -and have been seized with a desire to pass a season or two in Rome; and -it had never, somehow or other, been quite convenient to return to -Belgium or to Paris since. - -He had come to Rome, he told his acquaintances, to economize; which, in -plainer language, meant to say that he had come there to live upon his -sister. The princess, indeed, was not unconscious of the fact; but her -brother carried out his intention with such unfailing tact and -consideration that she had no excuse for resenting it. - -Monsieur d'Antin did not often invade the austere seclusion of Palazzo -Acorari. It would, no doubt, have been more economical to breakfast and -dine at his sister's table, when not bidden elsewhere, than to eat at a -restaurant or club. But Monsieur d'Antin liked to be independent; and, -moreover, the pious atmosphere of Palazzo Acorari did not at all appeal -to him. - -His sister bored him, and her entourage bored him still more. It was -infinitely more convenient every now and then to borrow sums of money -from her to meet current expenses, on the tacit understanding that such -loans would never be repaid, than to take up his abode in Palazzo -Acorari, as the princess had at first more than once suggested he should -do. - -Monsieur d'Antin was an egoist, pure and simple, but he could be a very -agreeable egoist--so long as he was supplied with all he wanted. -Fortunately, perhaps, for his popularity, his egoism was tempered by an -almost imperturbable good-humor, which, as a rule, prevented it from -ruffling the nerves of others. - -There are some men, and a great many women, who invariably succeed in -obtaining what they want out of daily life. Their needs are trifling, -possibly, but then life is made up of trifles--if one chooses to live -only for the present. But to be a really successful egoist, it is -necessary at all events to acquire a reputation for good-humor. - -Monsieur d'Antin had acquired this reputation in Rome, as he had -acquired it elsewhere; and he was shrewd enough to make it one of his -most useful possessions. Indeed, it was almost a pleasure to lose money -to Monsieur d'Antin at cards, or to place at his disposal any -convenience of which he might momentarily be in need, such was his -invariable _bonhomie_ in society. He had very soon made a place for -himself in the Roman world, and in this it must be confessed that he had -shown remarkable ingenuity. Had he arrived in the Eternal City -possessed of ready money, it would have made no difference whether he -was a Belgian gentleman or an English or American "bounder," for all -Rome would have willingly allowed him to entertain it at the Grand Hotel -or elsewhere, provided he got the right society women to "run him." But -Baron d'Antin had arrived in Rome with no reputation at all, beyond that -of being an elderly _viveur_ who happened to be the brother of the -Principessa di Montefiano. He had studied his ground, however, and it -had not taken him long to come to the conclusion that an unofficial -foreigner, to be a social success in modern Rome, must usually be either -an adventurer or a snob, and that the two almost invariably went -together. Being a gentleman in his own country, albeit in somewhat -straitened circumstances, Monsieur d'Antin had at first been amazed at -the apparent inability of the average Romans of society to distinguish -between a foreigner, man or woman, who was well-bred and one who was -not. Finally, he had come to the conclusion that good-breeding was not -expected from the unofficial foreigner, nor, indeed, any other of the -usual passports to society--but merely a supply of ready money and a -proper appreciation of the condescension on the part of the Roman -nobility in allowing it to be spent on their entertainment. This, -however, was not a condition of affairs that suited Monsieur d'Antin's -plans. He had come to Rome not to be lived upon by the society he found -there, but to make that society useful to him. That he had done so was -entirely due to his own social talents, and to his apparently amiable -disposition. He had no need of the Palazzo Acorari, so far as his -society and his food were concerned, for there were few evenings of the -week during the winter and spring that he had not a dinner invitation; -and if by any chance he had no engagement for that meal, there were -various methods at his disposal of supplying the deficiency. - -Altogether, Baron d'Antin had become _persona grata_ in Roman society, -and in his good-humored, careless way he had deliberately laid himself -out to be so, even waiving his prejudices and suppressing a certain -nervous irritation which the Anglo-Saxon race generally produced in him, -sufficiently to dine with its Roman members in their rented palaces. - -"My dear Jeanne," he would say to his sister, "you have no sense of -humor--absolutely none at all. I dined the other night with some of my -Anglo-Saxon friends--I should rather say that I passed some hours of the -evening in eating and drinking with them. The wines were -execrable--execrable!--and the man who poured them out told us their -supposed dates. Some of them, I believe, had been purchased when Noah -sold off his cellar after the subsidence of the flood--although, if I -remember rightly, he liked his wine, and his--well, sacred history is -more in your line than mine, Jeanne. In any case, it was very -amusing--and when one looked at the fine old rooms--the _mise en scene_ -of the comedy, you know--it was more amusing still." - -But Monsieur d'Antin was much too shrewd to laugh at any of the -component parts of the society he had determined to exploit. Had he -wanted nothing out of it, as he frequently told himself, he could have -afforded to laugh a good deal; and, being possessed of a very keen sense -of humor, he would probably have done so. As it was, however, he -concealed his amusement, or, at the most, allowed himself to give it -rein when calling upon his sister, who was unable to appreciate his -sarcasms, living as she did, completely apart from the cosmopolitan -society in which her brother preferred to move. - -Monsieur d'Antin had been paying the princess one of his occasional -visits, which he did at regular intervals. To say the truth, he did not -by any means approve of the compatriot he as often as not would find -sitting with his sister when he was announced. He was well aware that -Jeanne was a very pious woman; and very pious women, especially those -who had reached a certain age, liked to have a priest at their beck and -call. This, Monsieur d'Antin considered, was very natural--pathetically -natural, indeed. All the same, he wished that the Abbe Roux had been an -Italian, and not a Belgian priest. When Monsieur d'Antin had first -appeared upon the scene in Rome, he had instantly felt that the director -of his sister's spiritual affairs was not over well pleased at his -coming. Accustomed as he was to study those with whom he was likely at -any time to be brought much into contact, Baron d'Antin had at once -arrived at the conclusion that the abbe probably did not confine himself -to the direction of Princess Montefiano's spiritual concerns only; -otherwise the advent of her brother would have left him profoundly -indifferent. A sudden instinct told Monsieur d'Antin that he and the -priest must clash--and then he had reflected, not without some humor, -that, after all, there might be such a thing as honor among thieves. He -had done his best to conciliate the Abbe Roux whenever they had chanced -to meet at Palazzo Acorari, but the priest had not responded in any way -to his advances. Monsieur d'Antin knew that the late Prince Montefiano -had left as much as the law allowed him to leave in his wife's hands, -and that she was his daughter's sole guardian until the girl should -marry or come of age. The princess, however, had never written to her -brother concerning her affairs--neither had there been any particular -reason why she should do so. Rome had absorbed her, and even for some -years before her marriage she had practically become Roman in everything -but in name. There are many, both women and men, whom Rome has absorbed -in a similar way; nor can an explanation of her magnetic attraction -always be found in religion or in art, since the irreligious and the -inartistic are equally prone to fall under her spell. Rather, perhaps, -is the secret of her power to be found in the mysterious sense of -universal motherhood which clings around her name--in the knowledge, at -once awe-inspiring and comforting, that there is no good and no evil, no -joy and no sorrow which humanity can experience, unknown to her; and -that however heavily the burden may bear upon our shoulders as we walk -through her streets, multitudes more laden than we have trod those -stones before us, and have found--rest. - -It could hardly be supposed, however, that the burden borne by Princess -Montefiano was of a nature requiring the psychological assistance of -Rome to lighten it. So far as she was concerned--and in this she -differed in no respect from many other pious people of both sexes--Rome -merely suggested itself to her as a place offering peculiar facilities -for the keeping of her soul in a satisfactory state of polish. - -As he saw more of his sister in her home life, Monsieur d'Antin became -convinced that the Abbe Roux, as he had at once suspected, by no means -confined himself to directing her spiritual affairs. It was very -evident that the Abbe managed Palazzo Acorari, and this was quite -sufficient to account for his distant attitude towards a possible -intruder. As a matter of fact, Monsieur d'Antin had no great desire to -intrude. He intended to benefit by the accident of having a sister who -was also a Roman princess with a comfortable dowry, and he had very -quickly made up his mind not to attempt to interfere with the Abbe Roux -so long as that ecclesiastic did not attempt to interfere with him. - -During the last few months, Monsieur d'Antin had often found himself -wondering what his sister's position would be should her step-daughter -marry. In any case, scarcely four years would elapse before Donna -Bianca Acorari must enter into absolute possession of the Montefiano -estates, and yet it was evident that the princess regarded her as a mere -child who could be kept in the background. It had not escaped his -notice that it was clearly his sister's wish that Donna Bianca should -not receive any more attention than would naturally be paid to a child. -Nevertheless, when Monsieur d'Antin looked at the girl, he would say to -himself that Jeanne was shutting her eyes to obvious facts, and that at -some not very distant day they would probably be opened unexpectedly. - -He had tried to make friends with Bianca, but the princess had markedly -discouraged any such efforts; and latterly he had observed that his -sister almost invariably sent her step-daughter out of the room if she -happened to be in it when he was announced. - -Bianca Acorari herself had shown no disinclination to be friendly with -her newly arrived step-uncle. Anybody who was not the Abbe Roux was -welcome in her eyes. When Monsieur d'Antin had first come to Rome, -before he had realized the monotony of domestic life in Palazzo Acorari, -he had been in the habit of coming there more frequently than was now -the case, and had repeatedly dined with his sister Bianca, and -occasionally the Abbe Roux, making a little _partie carree_. - -It had amused him to address no small part of his conversation to his -step-niece during these little dinners, and Bianca had talked to him -readily enough. She was pleased, possibly, at having the opportunity to -show the Abbe Roux that she could talk, if there was anybody she cared -to talk with. Perhaps Monsieur d'Antin, with his accustomed -penetration, had already guessed that the relations between the girl and -her step-mother's spiritual director were those of a species of armed -neutrality, at all events upon Bianca's side. However this might be, he -had affected not to perceive the obvious disapproval with which his -sister regarded his endeavors always to draw Bianca into the -conversation, nor the offended demeanor of the priest at being sometimes -left out of it. - -To say the truth, Monsieur d'Antin was by no means insensible to Bianca -Acorari's physical attractions. He flattered himself that he had an eye -for female beauty in its developing stages; and he had arrived at an age -when such stages have a peculiar fascination for men of a certain -temperament. Perhaps the observant eyes of the Abbe Roux detected more -warmth in his lay compatriot's glance, as the latter laughed and talked -with the girl, than altogether commended itself to his priestly sense of -what was due to innocence. In any case it was certain that on the last -two occasions on which Monsieur d'Antin had proposed himself to dinner -at Palazzo Acorari, Bianca had presumably dined in her own apartment; -for she did not appear, and when Monsieur d'Antin inquired after her, -the princess had said dryly that her step-daughter was scarcely old -enough to dine with grown-up people. - -Monsieur d'Antin felt this banishment to be due to clerical suggestion; -and so, it must be confessed, did Bianca herself. He was bound to -admit, however--and he admitted it with decided complacency--that his -sister was right in safeguarding her step-daughter from premature -masculine admiration. He reflected, too, that in Italy--as, indeed, in -Belgium, or other Catholic countries--uncles and nieces were permitted -to marry under dispensations comparatively easy to obtain; and that in -the case of a step-uncle, no consanguinity existed. The reflection had -been a pleasant one to Monsieur d'Antin, and he looked upon the -uneasiness he had apparently inspired in the mind of the Abbe Roux as a -proof that he might still consider himself as dangerous to female peace -of mind--whereby he showed himself to possess to the full that peculiar -form of male vanity supposed to be inherent in the Gallic races. - - - - - *VIII* - - -"Yes," continued Monsieur d'Antin, as his sister gazed at him in a -slightly bewildered manner, "Bianca has only got to be seen, and to see -a few men who do not cover their legs with a cassock, and she will very -soon find out, Jeanne, that she is no child." - -"Really, Philippe!" expostulated Princess Montefiano. - -"There is no necessity to be shocked," proceeded Monsieur d'Antin, -tranquilly. "I know what I am talking about. There are certain -temperaments--female temperaments--one has come across them, you know. -_Bien_, your step-daughter is one of these, unless I am much mistaken. -Mark my words, Jeanne, if you keep her as though she were going to be a -nun, everything will go on quietly for a time, and then one fine day you -will discover that she has had an affair with the footman. What would -you have?" and Monsieur d'Antin shrugged his shoulders philosophically. - -Princess Montefiano appeared thoroughly alarmed. - -"Do you really think so?" she asked, hurriedly. "I have always looked -upon Bianca as--well, as quite a child still in all these ways, you -know. I wonder," she added, suddenly, looking at her brother, "what -makes you think she is not." - -"Ah," repeated Monsieur d'Antin, meditatively, "what makes me think she -is not?" - -His meditations seemed to afford him some pleasure, for he did not hurry -himself to answer the question. "Well, really," he continued, at -length, with a little chuckle, "I could hardly explain what it is that -makes me think so, my dear Jeanne--not to you, at all events, for I do -not at all suppose you would understand. But all the same, I think -so--oh yes--I certainly think so!" and, rising from his chair, Monsieur -d'Antin began to walk up and down the room, gently rubbing his hands -together the while. - -The princess looked perplexed. "After all, Philippe," she said, "Bianca -is only just seventeen. Of course she is tall for her age, and, as you -say--er--well developed. I suppose men only judge by what they see--" - -"Precisely," interrupted Monsieur d'Antin; "it is the only way we have -of forming an idea of--what we do not see." - -"I have thought only of her mind--her nature," continued the princess. -"I suppose," she added, "that is what you mean? I cannot say that I -understand her. I find her silent--apathetic. She seems to me to -interest herself in nothing." - -"Probably because you do not provide her with sufficient material." - -"I try to do my duty by her," returned the princess, a little stiffly. -"A step-mother is always placed in a difficult position. Of course, -Bianca being, as it were, like an only son, and everything going to her, -does not make things easier." - -Monsieur d'Antin looked at his sister curiously. She had very rarely -spoken to him of family affairs, and he had very little idea how the -Montefiano property was settled, beyond a natural conclusion that the -old prince would have left the bulk of it to his only child and -representative. - -"But of course," he observed, "you are always well provided for--in the -event of Bianca marrying, I mean--or, as she must do before very long, -taking over the estates into her own hands?" - -"There is my jointure, certainly," said the princess, "but it is not -large. I do not understand business matters very well, but naturally, -so long as Bianca is a minor and unmarried, I must be better off than I -shall be afterwards. A great deal will depend upon Bianca's husband. -That is what Monsieur l'Abbe always says to me--that we must not be in a -hurry to marry Bianca. She must not marry a man who simply wants her -titles and money to use them for his own purposes." - -"Monsieur l'Abbe is perfectly right," said Baron d'Antin, with a dry -little laugh. - -The princess glanced at him. "You do not like him," she said. - -Monsieur d'Antin hesitated for a moment. Then he laughed again, easily. - -"Not like him?" he repeated. "But, my dear Jeanne, I like him very -much. I am not fond of priests as a rule. They are not--well, not what -I am accustomed to, you know. But your tame abbe, I should say that he -was a most estimable person, and, no doubt, to a woman in your position, -a most useful adviser." - -The princess sighed. "Oh, most useful!" she exclaimed. "He is a good -man of business, too," she continued. "I feel that he acts as a kind of -intermediary between me, as Bianca's representative, and the agents and -people. After all, Philippe, I am a foreigner, you know--though I -scarcely feel myself to be one--and Bianca is not. So I am doubly glad -of Monsieur l'Abbe's advice sometimes." - -"But he is as much a foreigner as you are, Jeanne," remarked Monsieur -d'Antin. - -"Oh, but then he is a priest!" exclaimed the princess. "That makes such -a difference. You see, he was brought up in Rome, and went through his -studies here." - -"An admirable training," said Monsieur d'Antin, suavely. - -"Yes, admirable," assented the princess. "It gives such a grasp of, -such an insight into, human nature. That is one of the strange things -about Bianca, for instance," she added, suddenly. - -"That she has an insight into human nature?" demanded Monsieur d'Antin. -"If she has, Jeanne, it must be a miraculous gift, for she can have seen -little enough of it." - -"No, no! I mean that she cannot bear Monsieur l'Abbe. Would you believe -it, Philippe, that notwithstanding all his kindness, that child -positively refuses to go to confession to him? She refused years ago, -and now I never mention the subject." - -"_Tiens!_" observed Monsieur d'Antin. - -"It is incredible," continued his sister, "but nevertheless it is true." - -Monsieur d'Antin shrugged his shoulders. - -"It appears," he said, enigmatically, "that your step-daughter also has -studied in Rome." - -The princess dropped her voice mysteriously. - -"I believe," she said, "that the mother, my blessed husband's first -wife, you know, was an odd woman--or child, rather--for she was little -more. There was some story--she was in love with some other man who was -not thought a good enough match for her, and her family obliged her to -marry my poor husband. It was not a happy marriage." - -"That," observed Monsieur d'Antin, "was no doubt his reason for marrying -again. He was determined to find happiness." - -"Ah, well!" Princess Montefiano replied, with a sigh--"he needed rest. -His life had been a troubled one, and he needed rest." - -Monsieur d'Antin smiled sympathetically. He had heard it remarked in -Rome that the late Montefiano had indeed worn himself out at a -comparatively early period in life. - -"I do not wonder," he said, presently, "that you feel the responsibility -of selecting a suitable husband for Bianca. All the same," he added, "I -think you will be wise to contemplate the possibility of her not -remaining a child indefinitely. If you do not, I should be inclined to -regard the footmen as a perpetual source of anxiety." - -"Philippe!" exclaimed the princess. "You are really perfectly -scandalous! One does not allude to such things, even in jest. But I -see what you mean, although I must say that I think you put it rather -grossly. I will consult Monsieur l'Abbe about the advisability of -gradually letting Bianca see a few more people. I don't want it to be -supposed that I am keeping her from marrying when the proper time comes -for her to do so; and my only object would be to find her a suitable -husband. Of course, as Monsieur l'Abbe says her marriage must almost -certainly alter my own circumstances, but one must not allow one's self -to think of that." - -"Ah," said Monsieur d'Antin, thoughtfully, "Monsieur l'Abbe says so, -does he?" - -"It is natural that he should look at the matter from all points of -view," returned the princess. - -"Perfectly natural--from all points of view," repeated Monsieur d'Antin; -"and," he added to himself, "more particularly from his own, I imagine. -Well," he continued, "I must leave you, Jeanne. I should consult -Monsieur Roux, by all means. He looks as though he knew something about -feminine development--your little abbe; and you tell me that he has -studied in Rome. _Au revoir_, my dear Jeanne--_a bientot_! Ah, -by-the-way, there is one little matter I had nearly forgotten. Could -you without inconvenience--but absolutely without inconvenience--lend me -a thousand francs or so? Two thousand would be more useful--I do not -say no. In a few weeks my miserable rents must come in, and then we -will settle our accounts--but, in the mean time, it would be a great -convenience." - -The princess looked uneasy. "I will try," she said; "but, to say the -truth, it is not a very favorable moment--" - -Monsieur d'Antin waved his hands. - -"Not a word--not a word more, I beg of you, my dear Jeanne!" he -exclaimed. "You will think the matter over; and if two thousand is not -convenient, I must make one thousand suffice. In the mean time, _di -nuovo_, as the Italians say," and he kissed his sister affectionately -and hurried from the room. - -As he walked from the Palazzo Acorari to his little apartment in the -Ludovisi quarter of the city, Monsieur d'Antin was unusually -preoccupied, and more than once he chuckled to himself. His sister -Jeanne was certainly not gifted with a sense of humor, but he found -himself wondering whether she was quite as incompetent to look after her -own affairs as she wished him to believe. Experience taught him that -while piety and humor seldom went together, piety and a shrewd eye to -worldly advantage were by no means unfrequently to be found working very -harmoniously side by side. - -Somebody in Palazzo Acorari, Monsieur d'Antin felt convinced, had an -interest in maintaining the _status quo_, so far as the existing -constitution of the Montefiano establishment was concerned. Jeanne -might be a bad woman of business, but, when all was said and done, at -thirty-five or so, with no money--with nothing, in short, except a local -reputation for holiness--she had succeeded in marrying a man who had -been able to give her a very substantial position in the world, and who -had had the tact to leave her a good many years in which to enjoy its -full advantages without the incubus of his company. - -But it was more likely that Jeanne allowed herself to be swayed by the -counsels of the priest whom, according to her own account, she always -consulted. It was conceivable, nay, it was even probable, that Monsieur -l'Abbe Roux might desire that Donna Bianca Acorari should remain as much -as possible secluded from the world for reasons of his own. So long as -she remained unmarried, so long would she, no doubt, be content that the -Montefiano properties should be managed more or less as they had been -hitherto managed; and who could tell how much benefit the Abbe Roux -might not, directly or indirectly, gain from the present system of -management. - -And Bianca Acorari? Monsieur d'Antin allowed his thoughts to dwell upon -her dreamy face, with its eyes that seemed always to be looking into an -unexplored distance, upon the curved mouth and firm, rounded throat, -upon the graceful lines of the figure just melting into womanhood, and -came to the conclusion that Jeanne and her abbe were a couple of fools. -Why, the girl had something about her that stirred even his well-worn -passions--and how would it not be with a younger man? She had some -idea, too, of her own power, of her own charm, unless he was very much -mistaken. It was a vague, undefined consciousness, perhaps, but none -the less fascinating on that account. A child? Nonsense! A peach -almost ripe for the plucking. - - - - - *IX* - - -It was very still in the ilex grove of the Villa Acorari. The air was -sultry, and not a leaf stirred; yet angry-looking clouds occasionally -drifted across the sky from the sea, and cast moving patches of purple -shadow on the plain stretching away from below Velletri to the coast. - -The sunbeams glanced here and there through the heavy foliage. They -threw quaint, checkered patterns on the moss-grown flag-stones -surrounding a group of fountains, and flashed upon the spray falling -over sculptured nymphs and river-gods wantoning in cool green beds of -arum leaves and water-lilies. - -A gentle, drowsy murmur of insects filled the air, and the splashing of -the fountains--otherwise deep silence reigned. Lizards, green and -golden-brown, darted out of the crevices in the old stone seats, paused -abruptly with little heads poised in a listening attitude, and darted -away again; while blue dragon-flies hawked over the waters of the -fountains, now giving mad chase to a fly, now resting--jewels set in -green enamel--on a lily leaf. - -It was not to be wondered at if the gardens of the Villa Acorari were -reputed to be haunted by spirits of the old gods. On this July -afternoon some mysterious influence, infinitely peaceful but infinitely -sad, seemed to brood over them. All the glamour of a mighty past seemed -to enfold them--such a past as many an old villa in the neighborhood of -Rome has witnessed, in which every passion, good and bad, has played its -part; in which scenes of love and hate, of joy and sorrow, of highest -virtue and foulest crime have succeeded each other through the -centuries. - -Tradition declared that a shrine sacred to the rites of the _Lupercalia_ -once stood in the midst of this ilex grove, on the very spot where the -fountains now murmured and the water-lilies lifted their pure whiteness -to the hot caress of the sunbeams. - -If this were so, it was certainly as well that times had changed; that -lizards and dragon-flies had usurped the place of the _Luperci_, and -that lascivious Pan slept with the rest of the joyous company of -Olympus; else had Bianca Acorari, quietly reading her book in the deep -shadows of the ilex-trees, run grievous risk of receiving the sacred -blow from the thong of some lustful votary of the god. - -St. Peter's festival had come and gone, and Bianca, to her great -satisfaction, had already been some days at the Villa Acorari. It was -an untold relief to her to feel that for at least three months she was -free to wander about these old gardens instead of driving through the -hot, dusty streets of Rome. This year, too, she would not be quite so -much alone as she had usually been. The princess had consented to a -scheme whereby Mademoiselle Durand was to continue giving her lessons, -at any rate for another month; and it had been duly arranged that she -should come to the villa three times a week from Albano, where, it -appeared, she was going to pass the remainder of the summer. The -proposition had come from Mademoiselle Durand herself. She had other -pupils, she had informed the princess, who would be in _villeggiatura_ -at Albano and Ariccia, and it would be very easy for her to come over to -the Villa Acorari if the princess wished it. - -Somewhat to her step-mother's surprise, Bianca jumped eagerly at the -idea. There could be no objection, the princess thought, to the girl -pursuing her studies with Mademoiselle Durand for a few more weeks; and -she saw, moreover, that Bianca welcomed the thought of occasionally -having the governess as a companion. She would not have wished Bianca -to walk with Mademoiselle Durand in Rome, certainly; but at the villa it -was a very different thing; and, after all, it was better for her than -being perpetually alone, or merely having Bettina's society. - -Mademoiselle Durand had already been over twice, and Bianca had shown -her all her favorite walks, and the places where she liked to sit and -read or work during the heat of the afternoons. - -It had struck Bianca that the Frenchwoman displayed considerable -curiosity as to her movements. Mademoiselle Durand insisted upon being -taken all over the grounds of the villa, and almost appeared as though -she were studying the topography of the spots which Bianca pointed out -as being her usual resorts. - -They had talked of many things only a couple of days ago--things which, -it must be confessed, had nothing whatever to do with Bianca's -education. In the course of the last few weeks the girl had lost much -of the reserve she had formerly displayed towards her governess. The -Rossano family had been, as it were, a sympathetic link between -Mademoiselle Durand and Bianca, a subject to which it was refreshing to -both to turn after wrestling with French history or German poetry. - -Mademoiselle Durand had talked of Silvio on this very spot where Bianca -was now giving herself up to the pleasant feeling of drowsiness induced -by the murmur of the fountains and the fragrant warmth of the July -afternoon, and she had shaken her head sadly and significantly. - -That young man, she assured Bianca, was breaking his heart and ruining -his health. It did not at the moment strike either her or her listener -that Silvio could hardly do the one without doing the other. It was -certainly very sad, and Bianca had confided to Mademoiselle Durand that -she wished she could do something to avert such a catastrophe. - -"Perhaps," the Frenchwoman said, tentatively, "if you were to make his -acquaintance, he might become more reasonable," and Bianca had gazed at -her with a startled air. - -"You know, mademoiselle," she said, a little impatiently, "that I can -never make his acquaintance." - -"Never is a long time," returned Mademoiselle Durand, smiling. -"Supposing--I only say supposing--you met him somewhere, on one of your -walks, for instance, and that he spoke to you, would you not try -to--well, to give him some good advice--to be kind to him?" - -"He probably would not ask me for my advice," replied Bianca, laughing. - -Mademoiselle Durand looked at her and hesitated for a moment. - -"I think he would," she said, slowly. "You see, Donna Bianca, there is -such a close resemblance between your own position and that of the girl -with whom the poor boy is so madly in love." - -Bianca was silent. - -"I wonder," persisted Mademoiselle Durand, "what you would do. It would -be very interesting to know." - -"You mean--" began Bianca. - -"I mean," interrupted Mademoiselle Durand, "if by any chance you -happened to meet Monsieur Silvio and he asked you for your advice, as, -_du reste_, he has asked me. You would not run away--no?" - -"No," said Bianca, thoughtfully, "I don't think I should run away. I -think I should try to help him if I could. I am very sorry for him." - -Mademoiselle Durand suddenly sprang up with a little scream. - -"A scorpion!" she exclaimed. "I am sure I saw a scorpion! It ran in -there--into that hole close to my foot." - -"I dare say," said Bianca, indifferently. "It is the time of year when -one finds them, but I have never seen one just here. It is too damp for -them, I think." - -Mademoiselle Durand had made no further allusion after this either to -Silvio Rossano or to the scorpion. Indeed, she turned the conversation -into professional channels with some abruptness, and shortly afterwards -she returned to the house preparatory to going back to Albano. - -Mademoiselle's question returned to Bianca's mind as she sat under her -ilex-tree. It was all nonsense, of course, for how could she meet -Silvio Rossano and talk to him about his love-affair? Mademoiselle -Durand knew perfectly well that there could be no question of such a -thing. But still it would be very interesting to hear all about this -mysterious girl with whom he was so hopelessly in love. And, yes, she -would certainly like to meet him and talk to him. It was odd how well -she remembered his features, though she had never dared to look at him -very much. Nevertheless, since that Christmas night in the Sudario they -had seemed to be impressed upon her mind. And that other girl, the one -he was in love with, whose name Mademoiselle Durand declared she was -bound in honor not to mention, did she think much about him--remember -the look of his eyes and the expression of his mouth? Perhaps she never -thought about him at all. - -At this stage of her reflections Bianca suddenly found herself becoming -angry. She had just paused to ask herself why this should be, when a -soft, pattering sound which was not that of the fountains fell upon her -ear. Looking up, she became aware that the sunlight had faded, and that -the shade around her had grown suddenly deeper. The air felt heavier -and more stifling, and the pattering noise that had at first attracted -her attention seemed to come nearer and nearer as the light grew more -dim. From somewhere in the underwood a frog began to croak contentedly: - - "Or s'ode su tutta la fronda - crosciare - l'argentea pioggia - che monda, - il croscio che varia - secondo la fronda - piu folta, men folta - Ascolta. - La figlia del aria - e muta; ma la figlia - del limo lontana, - la rana, - canta nell'ombra piu fonda, - chi sa dove, chi sa dove!"[#] - -[#] _Le laudi; (Pioggia nel Pineto) Gabriele d'Annunzio._ - - -Bianca rose hurriedly and looked at the sky. The _campagna_ below, and -even the vineyards on the slopes of the hill immediately beneath the -park of the Villa Acorari, still lay bathed in sunshine. The light rain -that was falling was evidently only a passing summer-shower, and not, as -she had for a moment feared, the immediate precursor of one of those -violent hail-storms that sometimes sweep over the Alban hills, -devastating in a few minutes the crops of a whole district, and turning -smiling vineyards, laden with fruit, into brown and barren wildernesses. - -Bianca picked up her neglected book and made her way towards a little -casino which stood at the end of the ilex avenue, inside which she -proposed to shelter herself until the shower should have passed over. -She had scarcely taken a few steps under the sombre green branches when -she started back with a little cry. A man stepped from behind one of -the gnarled trunks and stood before her, bare-headed. In an instant she -recognized him. He was not the god--no. For a second she had almost -thought that he might be. Then she looked at him again. Not the -god--no; but surely the god could scarcely be fairer. - -She turned aside hesitatingly. - -"Donna Bianca!" - -The low voice, very gentle, very pleading, seemed to mingle its tones -with the murmur of the fountains and the _croscio_ of the rain-drops -among the ilex-leaves. - -Silvio Rossano stood and looked at her. Bianca put her hand up to her -throat. Something seemed to rise in it and choke back her words. - -"You!" she exclaimed. - -He smiled a little. "I, Silvio," he said, simply. "Donna Bianca," he -continued hurriedly, as though anxious not to give her time to say more, -"if you tell me to go, I will go, and you shall never see me again." - -And then he waited. - -A great silence seemed to follow his words, as though all the sylvan -deities in their lurking-places were listening for her answer. - -Only the frog croaked: - - "Chi sa dove, chi sa dove!" - - -Presently Bianca Acorari spoke. - -"I do not tell you to go," she said. - -Then Silvio moved a few steps nearer to her. - -Suddenly Bianca started, as though rousing herself from a dream. - -"What am I saying?" she exclaimed. "Of course you must go! You should -never have come here. If they were to find you--alone with me--" - -Silvio's eyes flashed. - -"Yes," he said; "alone with you--at last!" - -Bianca drew back from him. - -"At last!" she repeated. Then she smiled. "Of course," she continued, -"you wished to talk to me. Mademoiselle Durand told me--though I do not -understand what I can do." - -Silvio looked at her in bewilderment. - -"You knew!" he exclaimed; "and yet--you do not understand what you can -do? Donna Bianca," he added, earnestly, "please do not laugh at me. -Surely you understand that you can do--everything--for me?" - -Bianca shook her head. "I do not laugh at you," she said slowly. "I am -sorry for you. I would help you if I could; but how can I?" - -She moved towards the casino as she spoke. - -"Listen!" she added, "the rain is coming on more heavily. Do you not -hear it on the leaves? And it grows darker again." - -He followed her to the summer-house, but as she pushed open the door he -drew back, and glanced at her hesitatingly. - -"I will remain here," he said. "Afterwards, when the shower is over, if -you will let me speak to you--" - -Bianca Acorari looked at him. "Come," she said, briefly. - -It was an unheard of proceeding. Verily, as Monsieur d'Antin had said, -Bianca was no child--unless, indeed, she was more childish than her -years warranted. Any behavior more diametrically opposed to all the -rules and customs that so strictly regulate the actions of a young girl -in Italy could scarcely be conceived. - -Silvio Rossano himself was taken aback at her confidence in him. Her -demeanor was so natural, however, and her manner, after the first -surprise of seeing him had passed, had become so self-possessed, that he -never for an instant misunderstood her. - -Bianca seated herself upon a dilapidated chair--the only one, indeed, -having its full complement of legs that the casino contained. - -"Mademoiselle Durand said that if I--if we ever met, you would perhaps -ask me for my advice," she said, gravely. "I cannot understand why you -should think any advice of mine could help you. Perhaps she made a -mistake, and you are here by accident." - -Silvio almost laughed at her gravity, but she spoke with a certain -dignity of manner which contrasted very charmingly with her fresh, -girlish beauty. - -"No," he said quietly, "I am not here by accident, Donna Bianca. I am -here to see you--to tell you--" - -"Ah, yes, I know!" interposed Bianca, hurriedly. "It is very sad, and, -believe me, I am very sorry for you--very sorry." - -Silvio's bronze face grew suddenly white. - -"Sorry!" he exclaimed. "That means you can give me no hope--that you -think me presumptuous--" - -Bianca glanced at him. "I can give no opinion," she replied; "but I -think--" and she paused, hesitatingly. - -"Yes?" asked Silvio, eagerly. "What do you think, Donna Bianca?" - -"That if I were a man," returned Bianca, slowly, "I would marry whom I -chose, no matter how many difficulties stood in my way--that is to say," -she added, "if I knew the woman whom I cared for cared for me." - -"Ah," exclaimed Silvio, quickly, "but supposing you didn't know?" - -"Then I should ask her," said Bianca Acorari, bluntly. - -Silvio started violently. Then he came and stood beside her. - -"Donna Bianca," he said, in a low, eager voice, "do you know what you -are saying?" - -Bianca looked at him a little wonderingly. She could not but notice his -agitation. "Certainly I do," she replied. "You see, Monsieur Silvio," -she added, and then stopped in confusion. "I beg your pardon," she -said, blushing violently. "I am very rude--but I have so often heard -Mademoiselle Durand speak of you as 'Monsieur Silvio,' that I fear--I am -afraid--" - -Silvio Rossano's head began to swim. He looked at her and said nothing. -Then he swore at himself for being a fool and losing his opportunities. - -"You see," proceeded Bianca, picking up the train of her thoughts again, -"I am afraid I am not like other girls. I have lived most of my life -alone, and I suppose I have odd ideas. When I am of age, I shall -certainly please myself--but until then, I have to please other people. -Of course, I know that a man is obliged to speak to a girl's parents -before he can tell her that he loves her. But I am quite sure that if I -were a man and wanted to know if my love were returned, I should ask the -person I loved." - -Silvio looked at her curiously. - -"And is that your advice to me, Donna Bianca?" he said. "You advise me -to ask the girl I love--whom I have loved ever since I first saw her -seven months ago, though I have scarcely spoken to her in my -life--whether she returns my love?" - -"If I were in your place--yes," returned Bianca. "Why not, Mons--Signor -Rossano?" - -Silvio drew a long breath. - -"It is what I came here this afternoon to do," he said, quietly. - -Bianca looked at him with a bewildered expression. The blood left her -face and she became very pale. - -"What--you came here to do?" she repeated, slowly--"here? I do not -understand." - -"Ah, no? You do not understand? Then I will take your advice--I will -make you understand." The words came to his lips fast enough now. - -"Dear," he burst out, "you shall understand. I love you! Do you know -what it means--love? I have loved you ever since that night--that -Christmas night--when you looked into my eyes with yours. Do you -understand now? I know I have no right to love you--no right to ask you -to be my wife--for you are Donna Bianca Acorari, Princess of Montefiano, -and I am--nobody. But this is what I have come to ask you--only -this--whether you love me? If you do, I swear by God and by the Son of -God that I will marry you, or I will marry no woman. If you do not love -me, or will not love me, send me away from you--now, at once." - -Bianca Acorari sprang up from her chair. - -"Me?" she exclaimed. "You love me? Ah, but it is absurd--how can you -love me? You are mad--or dreaming. You have forgotten. It is she you -love--that other one--" - -Silvio seized her hand almost roughly. - -"Bianca!" he said, hoarsely, "what, in God's name, do you mean? I love -you--you only. I have never looked at another woman--I never knew what -love meant till I saw you." - -Suddenly Bianca began to tremble violently. In a moment Silvio's arms -were round her, and he was pressing hot, passionate kisses to her lips. - -"Bianca!" he exclaimed. "Tell me--for God's sake, tell me--" - -With a quick gesture she yielded herself wholly to him, drawing his face -to hers and running her hands through his close, curly hair. - -"Silvio," she whispered, "ah, Silvio! And it was I all the time! I -thought--Mademoiselle Durand pretended that it was somebody else--some -girl like me--and all the time I wondered why I cared--why I was -angry--" - -His arms were round her again, and he crushed her to him, while his lips -blinded her eyes. - -"Ah, Silvio _mio_," she sighed, "it is too much--you hurt me--ah, but it -is sweet to be hurt by you--" - -Suddenly she wrenched herself from him, crimson and trembling. - -"God!" she exclaimed. "What have I done--what must you think of me? I -did not know love was like that. It--hurts." - -Silvio laughed aloud in the very intoxication of his joy. - -"Beloved," he said, "that is only the beginning." - -But Bianca shook her head. "I must be very wicked," she said. "I did -not know I was quite so wicked. Silvio," she added, looking at him, -shyly, "for the love of God, go! It is getting late. At any moment they -may be coming to look for me. No--not again--" - -"But I must speak with you here to-morrow--the day after," urged Silvio. - -"Yes," said Bianca, hurriedly. "I must think," she added. "We must -confide everything now to Mademoiselle Durand. Ah, Silvio, you should -not have loved me--I shall bring you unhappiness." - -Silvio looked at her gravely. "If we are true to each other," he said, -"everything must come right. Even if we have to wait till you are of -age and free to do as you choose, that is not a very long time." - -They had left the casino as Silvio was speaking, and Bianca glanced -uneasily down the avenue. Not a soul was visible. The rain had cleared -away, and the sun, sinking westward, was streaming into the darkest -recesses of the ilex grove. No sound broke the stillness except the -splashing of the fountains, and now and again the notes of birds -announcing that the hot hours were passed and the cool of evening was -approaching. - -Bianca turned and laid her hands on Silvio's. "Go, beloved," she said. -"We must not be seen together--yet." - -Silvio drew her to him once more. "Do you know," he said, "that you -have never told me whether you will marry me or not?" - -Bianca Acorari looked at him for a moment. Then she answered, simply: - -"If I do not marry you, Silvio, I will marry no man. I swear it! Now -go," she added, hastily--"do not delay a moment longer. I will -communicate with you through Mademoiselle Durand." - -"After all," said Silvio, "even if we have to wait three years--" - -Bianca stamped her foot on the turf. - -"Silvio," she exclaimed, "if you do not go, now--at once--I will not -marry you for six years." - -She turned away from him and sped down the avenue, while Silvio vanished -through the undergrowth. - -And the ilex grove was left in possession of the spirits of Pan and his -_Luperci_; also in that of Monsieur d'Antin, who, with a little chuckle, -stepped from behind the casino and emerged into the sunlight. - - - - - *X* - - -"You do not congratulate me, Giacinta." - -Silvio and his sister were sitting alone together after a late dinner -which was practically merely a supper. In the summer months in Rome, to -be compelled by fashion to sit down to a meal at the pleasantest hour in -all the twenty-four is a weariness to the flesh and a vexation to the -spirit. Entirely in opposition to all the orthodox ideas inculcated by -the guide-books and received by the British tourist, the Romans do not -labor under the delusion that death stalks abroad with the sunset, and -that deadly diseases dog the footsteps of those who wander through the -streets or gardens when the shadows of evening are beginning to fall. - -Those whose duties or inclinations keep them in Rome during the summer -months do not, as a rule, complain of their lot, knowing full well that -of all the larger Italian cities, and, indeed, of all southern capitals, -it is on the whole by far the coolest and healthiest. - -The Rossano family, like the majority of Romans, adapted their hours to -the various seasons, and dinner, which was at any time from half-past -seven to half-past eight in winter, became supper at nine or so in -summer. - -This evening the professor, as was his usual habit on fine nights at -this season of the year, had gone out immediately after supper to smoke -his cigar and read his evening papers, seated outside one of the -_caffe's_ in Piazza Colonna, where a band would be playing till between -ten and eleven o'clock. - -He had never again alluded to the subject of Silvio having presumably -fallen in love. Indeed, he had forgotten all about it immediately after -he had startled Silvio by accusing him of it. Giacinta, however, had by -no means forgotten it. Silvio's silence, or rather his marked -disinclination to discuss either Bianca or anything to do with Casa -Acorari, only increased Giacinta's suspicions that he was at work upon -his plans in his own way. That he would abandon his determination to -make Bianca Acorari's acquaintance she never for a moment contemplated, -knowing his strength of will. It was, in Giacinta's eyes, a most -unlucky infatuation. In all probability, Donna Bianca Acorari's future -husband had been chosen long ago, not by the girl herself, of course, -but by the princess and her friends. Silvio's appearance on the scene -as a suitor must infallibly lead to trouble, for the difference in their -social position was too great to be overcome, except by a very much -larger fortune than Silvio could ever hope to possess. - -Giacinta Rossano's pride was aroused. It would be intolerable to feel -that her brother was regarded as not good enough to be the husband of an -Acorari, or of anybody else, for that matter. Knowing Silvio's -contemptuous indifference to merely hereditary rank, she wondered that -he did not realize the false position into which he was apparently doing -his best to put himself. That Donna Bianca Acorari would fall in love -with Silvio, if any reasonable opportunity were given her, Giacinta had -very little doubt. Any woman might fall in love with him, if it were -only for his good looks. But what would be gained if Donna Bianca did -fall in love with him? There would be a great _disturbo_--a family -consultation--probably a dozen family consultations--a great many -disagreeable things said on all sides, and after the girl had had one or -two fits of crying, she would give up all thoughts of Silvio, and allow -herself to be engaged to some man of her own world. And, in the mean -time, Silvio's life would be wrecked, for he would never stand the -mortification of a refusal on the part of Princess Montefiano to regard -him as a suitable husband for her daughter. He would probably become -soured and embittered, and as likely as not take to wild habits. -Altogether, Giacinta Rossano had a very unfavorable opinion of the whole -business. She devoutly wished that the fates had led her father to -choose any other apartment than the second floor of Palazzo Acorari; for -in that case Silvio would certainly not have gone to mass at the Sudario -on Christmas Eve, and lost his heart and his common-sense when he got -there. - -This process of reasoning was scarcely logical, perhaps--but Giacinta -had quite made up her mind that the midnight mass was responsible for -the whole affair. She believed that if Silvio had happened to see Donna -Bianca Acorari for the first time under more ordinary circumstances, he -would not have thought twice about her. Besides, to fall in love with a -person in church, she considered, was certainly improper, and very -likely unlucky. - -Giacinta had listened to Silvio's account of his meeting with Donna -Bianca in the grounds of the Villa Acorari, complete details of which, -it is hardly necessary to add, he did not give his sister, with -something approaching consternation. She had never doubted that sooner -or later Silvio would succeed in obtaining some interview with the girl, -but she had certainly not expected to hear that Bianca Acorari was so -ready to give everything he asked of her. She had thought that at first -Bianca would be bewildered, and scarcely conscious of what love might -be, and that it would require more than one meeting before Silvio would -succeed in fully arousing a corresponding passion in her. - -Evidently, however, from Silvio's words, reticent though he was when he -touched upon Bianca's avowed love for him, it had been a case of love at -first sight on both sides, and not only, as she had always hoped, on -that of Silvio only. This, Giacinta felt, complicated matters -considerably; and it was natural, perhaps, if, at the conclusion of -Silvio's confidences, she remained silent, engrossed in her own -reflections. - -"You do not congratulate me," repeated Silvio, as her silence continued. - -Giacinta hesitated. "I would congratulate you," she replied, "if I were -sure that what you have done will be for your happiness. But as yet," -she added, "there is nothing to congratulate you upon." - -"How do you mean--nothing to congratulate me upon," said Silvio, with an -unruffled good-humor that almost annoyed Giacinta, "when I tell you that -she loves me--that she has promised to be my wife? Is not that reason -enough for you to congratulate me? But, of course, I always told you I -was sure she returned my love." - -"You never told me anything of the kind," said Giacinta curtly. "Until -this evening, I do not think you have mentioned Donna Bianca Acorari's -name to me for three months." - -"Have I not?" asked Silvio, carelessly. "Well, it was no good talking -about the matter until I was sure of my ground, you know." - -"And you are sure of it now?" - -"But of course I am sure of it! Has she not promised to marry me?" - -"Oh, that--yes," returned Giacinta; "but, Silvio, you know as well as I -do that in our country engagements are not made like that. Bianca -Acorari is not an English miss. It all reminds me of English novels I -have read, in which young men always go for long walks with young girls, -and come back to the five-o'clock saying that they are going to be -married. This is just what you have done; but, unluckily for you, we -are not in England." - -Silvio laughed. Nothing could shake his serenity, for had not Bianca -sworn that if she did not marry him, she would never marry? - -"You forget," he said, "that Bianca and I can afford to wait. Even if -Princess Montefiano makes difficulties, it is a mere question of time. -In three years Bianca will be her own mistress, accountable to nobody -for her actions." - -Giacinta shook her head. "That is all very well, Silvio," she replied, -"but a great many disagreeable things may happen in three years. Do you -think that Donna Bianca loves you enough to keep her promise to you, -whatever opposition she may encounter?" - -Silvio smiled. "Yes," he said, simply, "I do." - -Giacinta was silent for a moment. Silvio was strangely confident, she -thought. Perhaps she underrated Bianca Acorari's strength of character. -It might be that this girl was really in love with Silvio, and that her -character and Silvio's were alike in tenacity of purpose and loyalty. -At any rate, she had no right to judge Bianca until she knew her, or at -least had had some opportunity of observing how she behaved by Silvio -when the storm which they had brewed finally burst, which it certainly -must do very quickly. - -"You are very sure of her, Silvio _mio_," she said, at length, with a -smile. - -"Very sure," responded Silvio, tranquilly. "After all, Giacinta," he -continued, "what can the princess or her advisers do? They can but -refuse to allow the engagement, but Bianca and I shall not consider -ourselves the less engaged on that account. And when they saw that -opposition was useless, that Bianca intended to marry me, and me only, -they would have to give way. Otherwise, we should simply wait till -Bianca was of age." - -"But pressure might be brought to bear upon her," objected Giacinta. - -"Pressure!" exclaimed Silvio. - -"Yes; there are many ways. She might be placed in a convent, for -instance. Such things have been done before now. Or they might force -her to marry somebody else." - -"Or kill me! Go on, Giacinta," said Silvio, laughing. "We are not in -the Middle Ages, _cara mia sorellina_. In these days, when people -disappear, inquiries are made by the police. It is a prosaic system, -perhaps, but it has certain advantages." - -"Silvio," exclaimed Giacinta, suddenly, "it is all very well for you to -laugh, but have you considered how isolated that girl is? She has -absolutely no relations on her father's side. Babbo says there are no -Acorari left, and that the old prince quarrelled with his first wife's -family--Donna Bianca's mother's people. She is alone in the world with -a step-mother who is entirely under the thumb of her priest." - -"And with me," interrupted Silvio. - -Giacinta glanced at him. "They will keep you at a safe distance," she -said, "if it does not suit the Abbe Roux that Donna Bianca should -marry." - -"_Cristo!_" swore her brother, between his teeth. "What do you mean, -Giacinta? Do you know what you are implying?" - -Giacinta Rossano's eyes flashed. She looked very like Silvio at that -moment. - -"I know perfectly well what I am implying," she said, quickly. "You -have not chosen to trust me, Silvio, and perhaps you were right. After -all, I could not have done so much for you as that Frenchwoman has done. -God knows why she has done it!" - -Silvio looked a little abashed. "How did you know about the -Frenchwoman?" he asked. - -Giacinta laughed dryly. "Never mind how I know," she replied, "and do -not think I have been spying upon your actions. I have been making a -few inquiries about the Montefiano _menage_ on my own account--about -things that perhaps Mademoiselle Durand--is not that her name?--might -never be in a position to hear, as she does not live in the house." - -"Ah!" exclaimed Silvio. "Go on, Giacinta." - -"The princess," proceeded Giacinta, "must be a strange woman. From what -I can hear of her, I should doubt whether anybody knows her the least -intimately, except the Abbe Roux. Oh no, Silvio, I do not mean to imply -any intimacy of that nature between them," she added, hastily, suddenly -becoming aware of the expression on her brother's face. "She is, I -imagine, a curious mixture of worldliness and piety, but not worldliness -in the sense of caring for society. She would have made an excellent -abbess or mother-superior, I should think, for she loves power. At the -same time, like many people who love to rule, she is weak, and allows -herself to be ruled, partly because she is a fanatic as far as her -religion is concerned, and partly--well, partly, I suppose, because she -has a weak side to her nature." - -Silvio looked at his sister, curiously. - -"How did you learn all this?" he asked. - -Giacinta shrugged her shoulders. - -"You might ask--Why did I learn it?" she said. "I learned it because I -wished to analyze the kind of psychologic atmosphere into which you -might find yourself plunged!" - -Silvio laughed. Giacinta often amused him; she was so like the -professor in some ways. - -"Perhaps," continued Giacinta, "had it not been that Prince Montefiano -developed a conscience late in life, the princess would have been ruling -nuns at this moment instead of managing the Montefiano estates." - -A quick look of intelligence passed across Silvio Rossano's face. They -were Romans, these two, of the sixth generation and more, and were -accustomed to the Roman conversational habit of leaving _i_'s to be -dotted and _t_'s to be crossed at discretion. - -"Of course, she would not be very ready to give up her interest in -them," he said. - -"Of course not," returned Giacinta. "Moreover," she added, "the priest -would do his best to prevent her from giving it up." - -"_Si capisce_," said Silvio, briefly. "But how in the world do you know -all this, Giacinta?" - -"Oh," she replied, "I know a good deal more! I know that the Abbe Roux -keeps his eye upon everything; that the princess does not spend a -thousand francs without consulting him. She is tenacious of her rights -to administer the Montefiano fiefs during Donna Bianca's minority, that -is true. But the real administrator is the Abbe Roux. There is another -person, too, with whom you ought to be brought into contact, Silvio--and -that is the princess's brother, Baron d'Antin. He is _niente di buono_, -so my informant tells me. But I do not imagine that Monsieur l'Abbe -allows him to have any great influence with his sister. Apparently he -comes here but seldom, and then only when he wants something. I do not -suppose that he would concern himself very much about you and Donna -Bianca." - -"So you think all the opposition would come from the princess and that -infernal priest?" said Silvio. - -"But naturally! They do not want the girl to marry--at any rate, before -she is of age. Why two or three years should make so much difference I -have no idea. I should like to find out, but it would not be easy." - -"I cannot imagine how you have found out so much," said Silvio. - -Giacinta laughed. "I have stooped to very low methods," she said, "but -it was for your sake, Silvio. If you must know, my maid has chosen to -engage herself to one of the Acorari servants, and she tells me all -these little things. Of course, she has told me considerably more than -I have told you, but, allowing for exaggerations and for all the -misconstructions that servants invariably place upon our actions, I -believe what I have told you is fairly correct. It is not very much, -certainly, but--rightly or wrongly--there appears to be an impression -that Donna Bianca is being purposely kept in the background, and that -neither the princess nor Monsieur Roux intends that she should marry. -Perhaps it is all nonsense and merely gossip, but it is as well you -should know that such an impression exists. - -"May one ask what you and Donna Bianca mean to do next, Silvio?" -concluded Giacinta, a little satirically. "The proceedings up to now -have been--well, a little _all' Inglese_, as I think we agreed; and I do -not quite see how you propose to continue the affair." - -A look half of amusement and half of perplexity came into Silvio's eyes. - -"To tell you the truth, Giacinta," he said, "neither do I. Of course, I -must see Bianca again, and then we must decide when and how I am to -approach the princess. I shall have to tell my father, of course. The -usual thing would be for him to speak to Princess Montefiano." - -"Poor Babbo!" exclaimed Giacinta. "It seems to me, Silvio," she added, -severely, "that you have landed us all in a _brutto impiccio_. I -certainly wish that I had never thought it would be good for your soul -to go to mass last Christmas Eve!" - - - - - *XI* - - -Monsieur d'Antin did not immediately return to the house after having -been an unobserved spectator of the parting scene between Bianca and her -lover. - -His presence in the ilex groves of the Villa Acorari that afternoon had -been due to the merest chance--if, indeed, it were not one of those -malicious tricks so frequently performed by the power that we call Fate -or Providence, according to our own mood and the quality of the -practical jokes played upon us. - -He had been spending the day at Genzano, where he had breakfasted with a -well-known Roman lady possessing an equally well-known villa lying -buried in its oak and chestnut woods. The breakfast-party had been a -pleasant one, and Monsieur d'Antin had enjoyed himself so much that he -felt disinclined to return to Rome as early as he had at first intended. -It would be agreeable, he thought, to drive from Genzano to the Villa -Acorari, spend two or three hours there, and drive back to Rome, as he -had been invited to do late in the evening, instead of returning by -train. - -Monsieur d'Antin had duly arrived at the Villa Acorari about four -o'clock, only to find that the princess had gone to Rome for the day on -business, and was not expected back until six. Donna Bianca, the -servants told him, was at home, but she was in the gardens. Monsieur -d'Antin was not so disappointed as he professed to be on hearing this -intelligence. He would rest for a little while in the house, as it was -still very hot--and--yes, an iced-lemonade would be very refreshing -after his dusty drive from Genzano. Afterwards, perhaps, he would go -into the gardens and see if he could find Donna Bianca. - -A stroll through the ilex walks with Bianca would not be an unpleasing -ending to his day among the Castelli Romani. Hitherto he had never been -alone with her, and he was not sorry that chance had given him an -opportunity of being so. The girl might be amusing when she was no -longer under supervision. At any rate, she was attractive to look upon, -and--oh, decidedly she sometimes had made him feel almost as though he -were a young man again. That was always a pleasurable sensation, even -if nothing could come of it. It was certainly a pity that he was not -twenty years younger--nay, even ten years would be sufficient. Had he -been so--who knows?--things might have been arranged. It would have -been very suitable--very convenient in every way, and would have kept -the Montefiano estates and titles in the family, so to speak. And -Bianca was certainly a seductive child--there was no doubt about it. -That mouth, that hair, and the lines of the figure just shaping -themselves into maturity--Bah! they would make an older man than he feel -young when he looked at them. Yes, it was certainly a pity. Jeanne, no -doubt, would delay matters until--well, until those charms were too -fully developed. That was the worst of these Italian girls--they were -apt to develop too fast--to become too massive. - -Monsieur d'Antin leaned back in an arm-chair in the cool, darkened -_salone_ of the Villa Acorari, and abandoned himself to these and -various other reflections of a similar nature. He found the mental -state a very pleasant one after his somewhat ample breakfast and hot -drive. There was something, too, in the subdued light of the marble -saloon, with its statues and groups of palms, and in the soothing sound -of a fountain playing in the court-yard without, that gently stimulated -such reflections. - -At length, however, a striking clock had roused Monsieur d'Antin, and he -sallied forth into the gardens, directed by a servant to the broad, -box-bordered walk that led up the hill to the ilex groves where, as the -man informed him, Donna Bianca usually went. - -Probably, had it not been for that self-same shower of rain which had -disturbed Bianca's meditations and caused her to seek the shelter of the -avenue and the casino, he would have found her sitting in the open space -near the fountains, where, as a matter of fact, Silvio Rossano had been -watching her for some little time, wondering how he should best accost -her. Silvio, concealed behind his tree, would certainly have seen -Monsieur d'Antin approaching, and would have waited for another -opportunity to accomplish his object. But, as usual, Puck or Providence -must needs interfere and cause the rain to descend more heavily just as -Monsieur d'Antin arrived at the fountains. Seeing that the avenue would -afford him shelter he had entered it, and, after waiting for a few -minutes, had bent his steps in the direction of the casino he observed -at the farther end of it. The sound of voices coming from within the -summer-house had caused him to stop and listen; and what he overheard, -although he could not entirely follow the rapid Italian in which its -occupants were speaking, was enough to tell him that Bianca Acorari was -one of the speakers, that the other was a man, and that love was the -topic of the conversation. Very quietly, and crouching down so as to be -invisible from the window of the casino, Monsieur d'Antin had stepped -past the half-closed door and concealed himself behind the little -building. Through the open window he had been able from his -hiding-place to hear every word that was said, and also to hear the -sounds which certainly could not be called articulate. - -Monsieur d'Antin's face, during the quarter of an hour he spent behind -the casino, would have provided an interesting and instructive study to -anybody who had been there to see it; it would also have made the -fortune of any actor who could have reproduced its varied expressions. -Astonishment, envy, lust, and malicious amusement, all were depicted -upon his countenance in turn. - -At last, when Bianca and her companion left the summer-house, Monsieur -d'Antin was able to see what manner of man he was who had had the good -fortune to arouse her passion. A single glance at Silvio, as the boy -stood in the centre of the avenue with the sunlight falling on his -well-built figure and comely face, explained the whole matter. If Bianca -had such a lover as this, all that he had just overheard was fully -accounted for. Nevertheless, a gust of envy, all the more bitter from -the consciousness of its impotence, swept through Monsieur d'Antin's -middle-aged soul. - -He wondered who this good-looking lover of Bianca's might be. The lad -was a gentleman, evidently; but Monsieur d'Antin could not remember ever -having seen him in society in Rome. _Diable!_ but he had been right, as -usual. He, Philippe d'Antin, always was right about women. And this was -Jeanne's "child"--this girl who gave herself to be kissed, and told her -lover it was sweet to be hurt by him! Ah! he had heard that. The words -had made the blood leap in his veins. - -He watched Silvio disappear through the tangled brush-wood growing -between the avenue and the park-wall, and Bianca's figure vanish in the -direction of the villa, before he finally emerged from his hiding-place. -Then he walked slowly several times up and down the avenue, thinking -about what might be the best use to make of his discovery. Should he -keep silence, and allow Bianca Acorari to compromise herself a little -more irrevocably, or should he speak to Jeanne at once? He wished he -had some means of knowing whether the meeting he had witnessed was a -first interview, or only one of many. Unluckily his knowledge of -Italian was not sufficient to enable him clearly to learn all he might -have learned from the lovers' conversation. If it were a first meeting -only, the matter could be the more easily nipped in the bud--and then-- -Here Monsieur d'Antin paused. He hardly ventured, even to himself, to -cast the thoughts that were beginning to revolve in his mind into -concrete form. - -The worst of it was that Jeanne must be utterly incompetent to deal with -anything of the nature of a love affair. He did not believe that in all -his sister's life she had ever known what love was. Certainly her -marriage with the Principe di Montefiano had not let her into the -mystery, for everybody knew that it was a marriage which had, so to say, -stopped short at the altar. - -Who could tell, moreover, who this young fellow might be? It was -certainly not likely that he was a suitable match for Bianca, or the two -would not behave in so absolutely _bourgeois_ a manner. No; the boy was -much more probably some adventurer--some shopkeeper from Rome, with the -_faux airs_ of a gentleman about him. In this case the matter would be -very simple. It would not be a very easy thing to find a husband for a -girl who was known to have had a _liaison_ with a man out of her class; -and, this being so, Bianca Acorari would either have to remain single or -marry some man who would be willing to overlook such a scandal in her -past. - -Thus reflecting, Monsieur d'Antin came to the conclusion that, for the -moment at all events, he would say nothing to his sister. The first -thing to be done would be to find out who this young man was. -Afterwards, it would be easier to decide how long the little love-idyl -he had assisted at that afternoon should be allowed to continue. If he -had to take anybody into his confidence before speaking to Jeanne, why -should the Abbe Roux not be that person? - -That was a good idea--an excellent idea. The priest could manage -Jeanne, and, perhaps, he, Philippe d'Antin, could manage the priest. It -was possible, but he was not sure; for priests were--priests. In any -case, it would be as well to have the abbe on his side if he found he -was able to derive any personal benefit out of the _bouleversement_ that -must be the immediate result of the discovery of Bianca's conduct. - -Yes, he would warn the Abbe Roux that it would be well to keep an eye on -Bianca's movements, and how she passed her hours at the Villa Acorari. -Of course the boy would come again--and small blame to him! And if -spying were to be done, it had better be done by the priest. In that -case he, Monsieur d'Antin, would not incur Bianca's odium as being the -destroyer of her romance. - -Having arranged his programme to his satisfaction, Monsieur d'Antin -strolled back to the villa. He found Bianca in the saloon, and greeted -her with an airy good-humor. - -"I have been looking for you in the gardens," he said. "They said you -were walking there--but where you have been hiding yourself I do not -know! Certainly I failed to discover the spot." - -If Monsieur d'Antin had been so foolish as to allow himself to look at -the girl as he spoke, he would have seen the quick look of relief on her -face. As it was, he looked at his watch. - -"The servants told me you were here," she replied. "How you did not find -me in the gardens, I cannot think. Did you go up to the ilex grove--the -wood at the top of the hill?" - -The keen note of anxiety in her voice was not lost upon Monsieur -d'Antin. - -"Yes," he returned. "I looked down the avenue, but I saw nobody. Then -it began to rain heavily, and I tried to get back to the house. But I -lost my way, and found myself--oh, close to the high road. So I took -refuge under a tree, and--here I am!" - -Bianca laughed nervously. "What a dull way of spending the afternoon!" -she said. "But mamma will be back presently--she had to go to Rome. -You are going to stop for dinner, of course? Perhaps to sleep here?" - -"Impossible!" said Monsieur d'Antin, consulting his watch again. "I -must drive back to Genzano. I told the _vetturino_ to wait." - -"But mamma," said Bianca, "she will be so disappointed to miss you! -Surely you can stay to dinner?" - -"Impossible," repeated Monsieur d'Antin. "I have promised to drive back -to Rome from Genzano with one of the secretaries of our legation, and we -were to start at seven o'clock. Make my excuses to my sister, and tell -her that I shall be back again soon to pay her a visit--oh, very soon. -But, my dear child, you look pale--you have been too much in the sun, -perhaps--" - -"Do I?" asked Bianca, hastily. "It is nothing--my head aches a little. -Yes, I suppose it is the sun." - -Monsieur d'Antin laughed merrily. - -"No doubt!" he said. "His kisses are too warm just now--decidedly too -warm. You must beware of them, my dear child. Do not let him kiss you -too often, or he will spoil that delicate skin." - -And laughing always, he bade Bianca good-bye, and went to the -entrance-door where a servant was engaged in trying to rouse his -slumbering driver. - - - - - *XII* - - -"The thing is absolutely incredible!" - -It was the Abbe Roux who was speaking. He sat with his hands folded on -his lap. They were puffy hands, and looked unnaturally white against -the black background of his _soutane_. - -Monsieur d'Antin sat a few paces away from him, smoking a cigarette. -The two had been in earnest conversation together in Monsieur d'Antin's -little apartment in the Via Ludovisi, where the Abbe Roux had arrived -half an hour before very much exercised in his mind as to why the -princess's brother should have made such a point of wishing to speak -with him in private. - -Monsieur d'Antin looked at his visitor, and his face contracted with one -of his satirical little smiles. - -"You think so, my dear abbe?" he said, dryly. "That is because you are -so infinitely superior to the weaknesses of the flesh. To me, on the -contrary, the thing is perfectly credible; it is even natural. But we -must endeavor to save Donna Bianca Acorari from the consequences this -particular weakness would entail. I am glad I decided to confide in you -before speaking to my sister. Of course, had Bianca been her own child, -it would have simplified matters considerably; but as it is, I am sure -you will agree with me, my dear abbe, that we must help my sister in -this very difficult position." - -The Abbe Roux unfolded his hands and began rubbing them gently together. - -"Certainly, Monsieur le Baron, certainly," he replied. "It is, indeed, a -duty to assist the princess in this--this exceedingly painful affair." - -He paused, and looked at Monsieur d'Antin inquiringly, as though to -intimate that he was only waiting to hear how the latter proposed to -act. - -Monsieur d'Antin proceeded with some deliberation to light another -cigarette. - -"I felt convinced that you would agree with me," he said, at length. "I -am quite aware--my sister has often told me, indeed--what confidence she -has in your judgment. I regard it as very fortunate that she has so -reliable a counsellor. A woman left in her position needs some man at -her side who will give her disinterested advice; and you, of course, -Monsieur l'Abbe, enjoy two great advantages. In the first place, you -have the influence of your sacred calling, which, as we both know, my -sister regards with extreme reverence; and, in the next place, though a -foreigner by birth, you are as much at home in Italy and with Italians -as though you were one of themselves." - -The Abbe Roux bowed. "Madame la Princesse has, indeed, chosen to honor -me by asking my advice occasionally on matters quite apart from my -profession," he replied. - -Monsieur d'Antin blew a cloud of smoke into the air. There was, perhaps, -the faintest suspicion of impatience in the action. - -"Precisely," he returned. "Knowing this, I feel that we can discuss the -peculiar situation in which Donna Bianca has placed herself--or, I -should rather say, in which an unscrupulous young man has placed her--as -two men of the world. Is it not so? My sister," he continued, without -giving the priest time to reply, "would naturally merely look at the -affair from the moral point of view. She would be deeply scandalized by -it, and shocked at what she would regard almost as depravity in one whom -she has hitherto considered to be still a child. All that is very -well--but we men, my dear abbe, know that there are other things to be -thought of in these cases of indiscretion on the part of young girls." - -"The deception," said the Abbe Roux, shaking his head; "the princess -will feel the deception practised by her step-daughter very acutely." - -Monsieur d'Antin tapped a neatly shod foot on the floor. - -"Dear Monsieur l'Abbe," he observed, gently, "let us ignore the -deception as being one of those moral points of the case which, I think, -we have agreed to leave out of our discussion. The question is, does my -sister wish Donna Bianca to marry, or does she not?" - -"Most decidedly not!" exclaimed the Abbe Roux, hastily, almost angrily. - -Monsieur d'Antin glanced at him. "I do not necessarily allude to Donna -Bianca's marriage with this unknown lover," he returned, "but to her -marriage in the abstract." - -The other hesitated. - -"The princess, I believe, considers that it would be very unadvisable -for Donna Bianca to marry too young," he said. "She has her good -reasons, no doubt," he added--"women's reasons, Monsieur le Baron, with -which you and I need not concern ourselves." - -Monsieur d'Antin laughed softly. - -"It appears to me," he said, "that Donna Bianca has proved them to be -mere ideas, not reasons. I do not think my sister need be uneasy on -that score. I should say, on the contrary, that in this instance -marriage was advisable--very advisable indeed. You have often, I have -no doubt, had to recommend it to your penitents, Monsieur l'Abbe." - -The Abbe Roux spread out his hands with a deprecatory gesture. "In the -present case," he said, "there are, I believe, other considerations -which madame your sister, as guardian to Donna Bianca Acorari, has to -take into account." - -Monsieur d'Antin nodded his head. "I understand," he observed. -"Pecuniary considerations." - -The abbe looked at him. "In a sense--yes," he said. "The prince," he -continued, "was not a man of business." - -"So I have always heard," remarked Monsieur d'Antin. - -"He left his affairs in a very involved state. The princess, since she -has had the management of them, has been endeavoring to bring them into -better order during Donna Bianca's minority." - -"I understand," said Monsieur d'Antin again. "So that," he added, "it -is, from a business point of view, very desirable that Donna Bianca -should not marry before she is twenty-one." - -"Exactly!" assented the abbe. "From a business point of view it is more -than desirable, it is important," he added. "In the event of Donna -Bianca's marrying, even as a minor, she would bring to her husband the -Montefiano properties, and their administration by madame your sister -would cease. These were the terms of the prince's will." - -"It is perfectly clear," observed Monsieur d'Antin. "My sister and I -have never discussed these matters," he continued. "There would have -been no object in her talking to me about them, for I am absolutely -ignorant of Roman customs where landed property is concerned. As I say, -it is fortunate that she has had you to advise her as to how to act for -the best in her step-daughter's interest. I fully understand the -situation, however; or, if I do not, you will correct me--is it not so? -_Bien_! I will proceed to explain myself--with your permission." - -The abbe bowed silently. - -"For business reasons, into which it is unnecessary to enter in detail, -it is not convenient that Donna Bianca Acorari should marry for, at all -events, three years. But surely, my dear Monsieur l'Abbe, it would very -much depend upon whom she married, whether these business calculations -were upset or not? An accommodating husband--or one who was in a -position to be independent of any fortune his wife might bring him, need -not necessarily, so far as I can see, interfere with arrangements you -may have thought it wise to suggest to my sister for the better -administration of her step-daughter's property." - -Monsieur d'Antin looked penetratingly at his visitor as he said these -words, and the abbe returned his gaze. Then something like a smile -crossed the faces of both men simultaneously. - -"No doubt," the priest replied, tranquilly, "very much would depend upon -the husband. But I do not see your argument, monsieur," he continued. -"You surely are not suggesting that Donna Bianca's very deplorable -entanglement with a young man, whose identity, I must remind you, is as -yet unknown to us, should be permitted to go on? The very fact of this -individual meeting your niece--" - -"Not my niece, Monsieur l'Abbe--not my niece!" interrupted Monsieur -d'Antin. "The accident of Donna Bianca Acorari's father having married -my sister _en secondes noces_, does not make that young lady any -relation to me." - -"Pardon!" said the abbe; "I forgot. Of course, as you say, Donna Bianca -is absolutely no relation to you--not even a connection, indeed." - -"Precisely--not even a connection," repeated Monsieur d'Antin. "But -pray proceed--" - -"I was about to say," resumed the abbe, "that no young man of good -family would place a young girl in such an unheard-of position as to -make love to her before speaking to her relations. The man is no doubt -some adventurer." - -"That," said Monsieur d'Antin, "I must leave to you to ascertain. As I -have just observed, I am no relation of Donna Bianca Acorari. I -therefore prefer not to interfere further than to utter a private -warning to those who have the right to move in the matter as to what has -accidentally come to my knowledge." - -"It will not be difficult to identify the individual whom you saw in -Donna Bianca's company," said the priest. "As you remarked, he is sure -to repeat his visit to the Villa Acorari. For this reason I should be -inclined to say nothing to the princess until we have ascertained who it -is with whom we have to deal." - -"Exactly!" exclaimed Monsieur d'Antin. "I thoroughly agree with you. -You will admit, however, my dear abbe, that the matter is serious. For -instance, what is to prevent the young couple from taking the law into -their own hands and running away? If the young man is merely an -adventurer, he might persuade Donna Bianca to take such a step. There -has been an example of the kind in Rome not so very long ago, if I am -not mistaken." - -"There is nothing to prevent them from doing so, certainly," replied the -Abbe Roux. "They could get themselves married ecclesiastically, no -doubt, but not legally. It would hardly be worth an adventurer's while -to burden himself with a wife over whose fortune he would have no legal -rights." - -"He might prefer to establish rights over her person," said Monsieur -d'Antin, dryly. "Young men--are young men; and this one, unless I am -greatly mistaken, thinks more of Donna Bianca's face than her fortune." - -The Abbe Roux shrugged his shoulders. "He seems to be on the high road -to establish those rights already," he observed, "if one is to judge by -what you overheard. The blessing of the Church is not invariably sought -in cases of this kind," he added. - -Monsieur d'Antin chuckled. "True," he replied, "the girl is -inexperienced, and of a temperament--oh, but of a temperament--" He -paused abruptly. - -The abbe looked at him quickly. Then he smiled a curious little smile -not altogether in keeping with his clerical attire. - -"Ah," he said, "I think, Monsieur le Baron, that you have had occasion -to remark on this--this delicate subject before, have you not? The -princess mentioned to me some time ago that you had told her you thought -she was mistaken in believing her step-daughter to be still a child. -You have evidently been studying Donna Bianca attentively. After all, -she is a very attractive young lady, and is developing greater beauty -every few months. But your warning to Madame la Princesse has turned -out to be singularly justified by subsequent events. One sees that you -have an insight into female character, Monsieur le Baron." - -Monsieur d'Antin looked at him suspiciously for a moment, and then he -laughed good-humoredly. - -"What would you have, my dear abbe?" he asked. "I am not such an old -man--yet; and I am not a priest. I have my little experiences--yes--and -I am not often mistaken about a woman," and Monsieur d'Antin slapped -himself encouragingly on the breast. "I will make you a little -confession, my friend," he continued, gayly. "It is of no consequence -that I am smoking a cigarette, and that you do not happen to have your -stole on--you can give me absolution all the same. I find my 'niece,' -as you choose to call her, charming--absolutely charming. It is a -thousand pities that she has so hopelessly compromised herself with this -mysterious young man, for if the story becomes known, when my sister -wants to find a husband for her it will not be such an easy matter to do -so. Ah, my dear Monsieur l'Abbe, had I only been younger, a very few -years younger, I would have come forward and said: 'I, Philippe d'Antin, -will marry you, and protect you from the evil tongues of the world. I -pardon your youthful indiscretion, and I make you the Baroness -d'Antin.'" - -Monsieur d'Antin paused and looked at the Abbe Roux gravely. He -appeared to be almost overcome by a sense of his own magnanimity. - -The abbe was apparently engrossed in his own thoughts. He sat silently -rubbing his hands together, and it was some moments before he spoke. - -"I agree with you, monsieur," he said, presently. "It is not every man -who will marry a young lady who has placed herself in an equivocal -position. You are very generous. I offer you my congratulations on -your chivalrous spirit; and though, as you remark, I have not my stole -on, I shall respect your confidence. All the same, _nous sommes -toujours la_! Donna Bianca Acorari's marriage would not be advisable -for the present. The princess, I feel convinced, would not countenance -it." - -"But, my dear abbe," exclaimed Monsieur d'Antin, "I assure you that I -thoroughly understand! I was merely stating what I should have been -prepared to do had I only been a slightly younger man. I do not conceal -the fact from you that I have a certain admiration for Donna Bianca, -which you, with your knowledge of frail human nature, will readily -pardon as a mere weakness of the flesh--is it not so? At the same time, -I should have been prepared to sacrifice myself in order to prevent any -scandal; and, moreover, perhaps there would not be the same objections -to me as a husband for Donna Bianca as there might be in the case of a -stranger. We should, so to speak, be keeping the Montefiano properties -in the family, should we not, Monsieur l'Abbe? and there would have been -no reason to fear that your and my sister's excellent schemes for the -benefit of the estates would not have had ample time to be realized. -However, these are mere _chateaux en Espagne_. We need not discuss so -unlikely a contingency any further. I consider that I have done my duty -in warning you, as my sister's confidential adviser and spiritual -director, as to what is taking place; and, as I have said, I must leave -it to you to take such steps as you think proper regarding when and how -the princess is to be made acquainted with the story. After what I have -confided to you of my personal feelings, I am sure you will understand -my determination not to mix myself up in the matter--unless I am wanted. -If I can be of any use eventually, you know, my dear Monsieur l'Abbe, -what I am prepared to do in order to protect Donna Bianca from any -scandal." - -The Abbe Roux rose from his chair. "I think, Monsieur le Baron," he -said, "that you may safely leave this very delicate matter to me. The -first thing to be done is to find out who this young man may be. When I -have accomplished this, we can discuss what may be the best course to be -taken. For the moment, I shall say nothing to the princess. A day or -two's delay can do no harm, and may do good." - -Monsieur d'Antin accompanied his visitor to the door of the staircase, -where he took leave of him. Then he returned to his sitting-room, and, -having closed the door, gave vent to quiet but genuine merriment. - - - - - *XIII* - - -Silvio Rossano had quickly made up his mind that, as was only fitting -and proper, he would tell his father without further delay of the -situation in which he and Bianca found themselves. It would be the -professor's duty to call on Princess Montefiano and make a formal -proposal on the part of his son for Donna Bianca's hand. That the -proposal would not be listened to by the princess, Silvio was convinced. -He had never attempted to deceive himself upon that subject, and less -than ever after hearing from Giacinta what she had learned. But, at all -events, once having sent his father as his ambassador, he would have -conformed to the usages of society, and would afterwards be free to take -his own line. - -Mademoiselle Durand, to whom he had of course confided the successful -result of his interview with Bianca in the grounds of the Villa Acorari, -had counselled patience. There was no reason, she thought, why, with -the exercise of ordinary prudence, Silvio and the girl whom he now -looked upon as his betrothed wife should not repeatedly meet each other -in the same manner, and there was surely no necessity to be in a hurry -to explode the mine they had laid--more especially as it was not so easy -to calculate what the effects of the explosion might be. But Silvio was -firm. Had there been the slightest hope of being able to accomplish his -object in any other way, he would never, as he told Mademoiselle Durand, -have approached Bianca secretly, and already he blamed himself for -having placed the girl in so unusual a position. Now, however, that he -had heard from her own lips that Bianca returned his love, and since -they had mutually vowed to marry each other, or not to marry at all, he -would have no more concealment. If the princess refused to accept him -as a husband for her step-daughter, then he should feel that he and -Bianca were at liberty to carry out their future plans in their own way. - -Mademoiselle Durand expostulated in vain. Silvio begged her to deliver -a letter to Bianca when she next went to the Villa Acorari. In this -letter he explained all his reasons for not risking another interview -with her until they should have learned the result of his father's visit -to the princess, and these reasons he put before Bianca in the simple, -straightforward way which was part of his nature. Mademoiselle Durand -promised to deliver the letter the very next day, and in the mean time -Silvio had carried his story to his father. - -Professor Rossano had received his son's intelligence with a blank -dismay which was almost ludicrous; for never, surely, had a task for -which he was so absolutely ill-fitted been thrust upon him. At first he -had positively declined to interfere, or to be by way of knowing -anything at all about the matter. Silvio had chosen to fall in love in -an impossible quarter, and the best thing he could do was to fall out of -love again as quickly as possible. As to thinking that the Principessa -di Montefiano would allow her step-daughter and the last representative -of the Acorari to marry the son of the tenant of her second floor, that -was altogether an absurdity. Giacomelli had been quite right when he -said Silvio was in love, and would be taking false measurements in -consequence. He had taken them--deplorably false measurements. - -"But," Silvio observed quietly, after the first stream of objection had -somewhat subsided, "I do not the least think the princess will consent -to our marriage." - -"Then, may I ask, what is the use of sending me on a fool's errand?" the -professor retorted, witheringly. - -"Nevertheless, whether she consents or not, Bianca Acorari and I shall -marry each other. All the same," continued Silvio, "if she gives her -consent, it will, of course, obviate a great many difficulties." - -His father gazed at him with an expression half angry and half humorous. - -"_Diamine!_" he observed, "I imagine that it would! It appears to me, -Silvio, you forget that marrying an heiress is not the same thing as -building a bridge. In the mean time, as I say, you wish to send me on a -fool's errand. Well, you may 'go out fishing!' These people are noble, -and I am not going to expose myself and my son to certain prejudices -which an old-fashioned woman like Princess Montefiano probably -entertains. Moreover, they are clericals--fervent Catholics--and when -people are fervent Catholics--_mah!_" and the professor shrugged his -shoulders. - -Silvio laughed. "It is a mere formality, Babbo," he said, "and it is -the only thing I shall ask you to do in the matter. If you like, you -can go to the princess and say to her, 'My son has fallen in love with -your step-daughter, and means to marry her. I have told him he is an -imbecile, and that I will not give my consent; but he declares he will -marry her all the same.'" - -"Oh, oh!" exclaimed the professor, "so you would marry without my -consent, would you? And pray, what would you live upon?" - -"My wits." - -"It seems to me that you are a pumpkin-head, and that you have lost -them," returned the professor. "Does Giacinta know of this folly?" - -"She knows that I am going to marry Donna Bianca Acorari." - -"The devil she does!" observed Professor Rossano. "Go and talk it over -with Giacinta, Silvio," he continued; "she is a sensible girl, and will -tell you that you are going to make a fool of yourself, and of your -family as well. As for me, I will have nothing to do with it. I have -no time to spend on such trifles." - -"But if I have already talked it over with Giacinta?" said Silvio. He -knew very well how to manage his father. The professor would certainly -end by doing what either of his children asked him to do. It was his -method of carrying out his sense of parental duty. His children, -whenever he remembered to think about them, puzzled him considerably; or -rather, it puzzled him to know what was expected of him as a father. -Occasionally he would sit and look at Giacinta with much the same -expression on his face as may be seen on that of a retriever bitch whose -puppies are beginning to assert their independence. He often felt that -it was probably incumbent upon him to do something on her behalf, but he -did not at all know what it might be, and still less how to do it. In -Silvio's case things had been different. The boy had so early given -unmistakable proofs of having both the brains and the character to take -a line of his own in the world, that the professor had never had -seriously to think of possible responsibilities towards him. - -This affair of Silvio's, however, would, as Professor Rossano was quick -to realize, need some careful handling on a father's part. He was very -fond of his children, notwithstanding all his apparent absorption in his -scientific occupations, and he was proud as well as fond of his son. He -might laugh at Silvio, and call him an "imbecile," and he might pretend -to regard his love for this Acorari girl as a foolish fancy that need -not be seriously discussed. But in his heart Professor Rossano was -uneasy. He knew that Silvio was not a susceptible lad, and that he had -hitherto appeared to be remarkably indifferent to women. But he knew, -too, his tenacity of character, and how when he had once fairly made up -his mind to attain some object he would pursue his purpose with an -energy that was almost dogged. - -Added to these traits in Silvio's character, the professor knew the -gentleness and loyalty of his nature and his simple, affectionate -disposition. It would go very hard with the boy, he thought, if he were -deceived or played with by any woman upon whom he had really set his -affections. Notwithstanding his assertion that he would have nothing to -say or do in the matter, Professor Rossano had not the slightest -intention of allowing Silvio's life to be made unhappy if he could -prevent it. The boy had a career before him, and it should most -certainly not be wrecked by a priest-ridden woman and the daughter of so -poor a specimen of humanity as the late Principe di Montefiano was -reputed to have been. What Donna Bianca Acorari might be, the professor -neither knew nor cared. Though they lived under the same roof, he had -never set eyes upon the girl. She was probably bored to death with her -step-mother and her step-mother's pious practices, and had encouraged -the first good-looking young man she saw to make love to her, which -young man had unfortunately happened to be Silvio. - -Perhaps Silvio guessed something of what was passing in his father's -mind. "I have already talked it over with Giacinta," he repeated, as -the professor remained silent. "She does not think, any more than I -think, that there is the slightest chance of Princess Montefiano -listening to any proposal coming from us." - -"And why not, I should like to know?" exclaimed the professor with -sublime inconsistency. - -"For various reasons," returned Silvio, suppressing an inclination to -laugh. "Giacinta knows more about Casa Montefiano than any of us," he -continued. "I told her some time ago how it was with me, and she has -been making some inquiries. It appears that there is a priest--the Abbe -Roux, they call him--" - -"May the devil take him!" interrupted the professor. "He puts his nose -everywhere. When we took this apartment the princess had agreed to make -certain alterations, but the porter told my lawyer that the Abbe -Roux--well, never mind!--what were you going to say about him, Silvio?" - -"Only that, as you say, he puts his foot everywhere. Giacinta has heard -that neither the princess nor he really wish Donna Bianca to marry at -all." - -"Which means to say that the priest does not wish it, for some reasons -of his own--money reasons, probably. The princess will do what he tells -her to do, of course." - -"Of course," repeated Silvio, dryly. - -"And do you mean me to go and bribe the Abbe Roux?" asked the professor, -"for I shall most decidedly do nothing of the kind!" - -"Oh, not at all!" returned Silvio, quietly; "I tell you, it does not -matter, Babbo. Bianca and I shall wait three years, unless we get tired -of waiting and run away with each other before. We could be married in -a church, you know, and the legal marriage might be postponed till she -was of age, but I think it would be better to wait the three years." - -"_Diamine!_" ejaculated the professor, "but you seem to be very certain -of your arrangements, _figlio mio_, and of the girl." - -Silvio nodded. "You see," he said, "I don't want to put her in any -false position, and if we ran away with each other before she is of age, -people would say I had done it in order eventually to get her money. -Besides, in the course of three years she will have ample time to be -quite sure that she has not made a mistake," added Silvio, with a smile. - -The professor looked at him. "Yes," he said, "you are quite right, but -not many young men would be so thoughtful or so confiding. In the mean -time, you think--Giacinta thinks there is no chance of your being -allowed to pay your addresses to Donna Bianca Acorari, because, I -suppose, you would not be considered well-born enough nor rich enough. -You might be a contractor risen from nothing, or a _mercante di -campagna_ whose father had herded pigs, and, if you had money, no -objections would be made to your marrying into the Acorari or any other -family. _Figlio mio_, take my advice. Leave these people alone, and -take your wife from a class that has good brains and healthy blood, not -from these worn-out families of which the country has very little -further need. You are only preparing for yourself trouble and -disappointment." - -Silvio shook his head. "I will marry Bianca Acorari, or I will marry -nobody," he said. - -The professor shrugged his shoulders. - -"That being the case," he observed, mildly, "what is the use of -discussing the matter any further? Why send me to the girl's -step-mother? It is a waste of time." - -"You could write," suggested Silvio. - -"Of course I should write!" returned his father testily. "You don't -suppose I should spend a whole day in going to Velletri and back on such -an affair, do you? All the same, I see why you think the formal -proposal should be made in the usual way. If it is declined by the -princess--as, of course, it will be--you and the girl will consider -yourselves to be justified in taking the matter into your hands--is it -not true?" - -"Exactly," answered Silvio. "Moreover," he added, "I want to be certain -that Giacinta's informant is right, and that there is some reason why -Donna Bianca will not be allowed to marry either me or anybody else, if -it can be prevented." - -The professor nodded his head slowly. "Depend upon it, the priest is at -the bottom of it," he said. "He is probably feathering his nest, or -somebody else's nest, well out of the Montefiano revenues, and does not -want any premature change in the situation. And that reminds me," he -added, laughing, "that you had better have been anybody's son than mine. -The priests--I mean those of the Abbe Roux type--regard me as a -freemason, a heretic, anything you please that is damnable, -because--well, because I believe Domeneddio to have given us minds in -order that we should use them. I am afraid, Silvio _mio_, that Donna -Bianca Acorari would never be allowed to marry the son of a senator, who -also happens to be a scientist in a modest way." - -"I tell you again, Babbo," said Silvio, "that it doesn't matter. All I -want is to be refused by the princess, after a formal proposal has been -made in the recognized manner. That will quite satisfy me. Do you not -see, too, that we should be placing ourselves in a humiliating position -if we did not approach the Princess Montefiano? She has the right to -expect it, and by not conforming to the usage it would appear as though -we knew ourselves to be in an entirely different class; whereas we are -not that. We do not happen to possess a title, but for all that we can -show as good blood as the Acorari; while you are a senator, and your -name is known throughout Italy." - -The professor passed his hand through his hair. "Yes," he replied, "I -believe you are right, Silvio. I imagine that you will very quickly be -satisfied if a refusal is all you want. But remember, I will have -nothing more to do with the matter after I have informed Princess -Montefiano that you wish to marry her step-daughter, and have conveyed -her answer to you. You are very obstinate, and I suppose you and this -girl are in love with each other. That being the case, you must make -fools of yourselves in your own way. Only, don't expect me to help you. -I am going to the Lincei." - -And without waiting for Silvio to reply, Professor Rossano took up his -soft felt hat and his walking-stick, which were lying on a table near -him, and walked out of his study, leaving Silvio satisfied that he would -do as he had asked him. - - - - - *XIV* - - -Four days only had elapsed since the Abbe Roux's interview with Monsieur -d'Antin in the Via Ludovisi, when he received a telegram from Princess -Montefiano, begging him to come to the Villa Acorari at once, as she -wished to consult him on urgent business. - -The abbe had endeavored to find out, by judicious inquiries from the -porter at Palazzo Montefiano, and from one or two servants who were left -in charge of the princess's apartments, whether any stranger who might -answer to Monsieur d'Antin's description of the young man he had seen -with Donna Bianca had ever presented himself there. He had intended -going to the Villa Acorari himself under some excuse of business, and, -without saying anything for the moment to Princess Montefiano, to cause -the grounds to be watched, and the intrusion of any stranger duly -reported to him. Indeed, he had determined, so far as time permitted, -to do a little watching on his own account. It was clearly advisable, -as Monsieur d'Antin had said, to know with whom one was dealing. It -might be, though it was not at all likely, that Bianca Acorari's Romeo -was a son of some well-known Roman house, living in _villeggiatura_ at -his family palace or villa in the neighborhood; and that the scene at -which Monsieur d'Antin had assisted was merely the escapade of some -thoughtless youth at a loss how to pass his time in the country. - -It was curious that, in turning over in his mind all the possible men -who could have had any opportunity of seeing enough of Donna Bianca to -fall in love with her, the Abbe Roux never thought of the son of the -obnoxious senator who lived in Palazzo Acorari. As a matter of fact, he -had never seen Silvio Rossano, for he had never happened to encounter -him on the staircase or in the court-yard of Palazzo Acorari on the -occasion of his frequent visits there, though he was very well aware of -his existence. - -It was, therefore, a pure coincidence that Silvio should happen to enter -the palace at the very moment when the abbe was in deep conversation -with the porter at the foot of the staircase. Probably the priest would -scarcely have noticed him, had it not been that Silvio had looked at him -with, as he fancied, some curiosity. Monsieur l'Abbe asked the porter -who Silvio was, and the man seemed surprised. - -"That one?" he said. "Why, that is the _signorino_ of the second floor, -a _bel ragazzo_--is it not true, _monsignore_?" - -The Montefiano establishment always gave the Abbe Roux the title of -_monsignore_, not being quite clear as to what an abbe might be. - -"Ah, of course," returned the abbe, "the _signorino_ of the second -floor"--and he followed Silvio's retreating form with his eyes. - -"_Un bel ragazzo davvero--proprio bello!_" he continued, giving Silvio a -prolonged look, as the latter turned the angle of the staircase, and -enabled the abbe to see his face distinctly. "He is always in Rome?" he -inquired, carelessly. - -"Yes, the Signorino Rossano was living at home now," the porter -declared. "He was a very quiet young man--_molto serio_. Indeed, he, -the porter, had never seen him engaged in any adventures, unless--" - -"Unless--what?" asked the abbe, smiling. "A young man cannot be -expected to be always _molto serio_," he added, leniently. - -"_Sicuro!_ especially so handsome a lad as the _signorino_. Naturally -the women made up to him. The French mademoiselle who came to the -_principessina_, for instance; he had met the _signorino_ and her -walking together--oh, more than once. Not that there was anything in -it, probably--for it was in the daytime he had met them--in the morning, -indeed--and who wanted to make love on an empty stomach?" - -The Abbe Roux checked the porter's garrulity with a slight gesture, and -appeared to take but little interest in the matter. - -Nevertheless, as he left Palazzo Acorari he wondered whether by any -chance this young Rossano could be the individual he was looking for. -His personal appearance answered to Monsieur d'Antin's description of -Donna Bianca's lover--and what more probable than that the two had met -repeatedly in this way in and out of the _palazzo_, and had managed to -communicate with each other? The Frenchwoman, of course! She had been -the channel of communication! The abbe thought that he must have been -very dull not to think at once of so simple an explanation of the -affair. But he had momentarily forgotten that Professor Rossano's son -was living at home. He had heard all about Silvio, and knew that he was -an engineer who was rapidly making a considerable reputation for himself -in his profession. - -But the thing was absurd--preposterous! There could be no difficulty in -at once putting a stop to this young man's presumption. Moreover, the -princess would be horrified at the bare idea of her step-daughter -marrying the son of an infidel scientist who had ventured to attack -certain dogmas of the Church. At any rate, if the princess were not -properly horrified at the notion of such an alliance, he, the Abbe Roux, -would have little difficulty in making her so. - -Altogether, it was perhaps very fortunate that Donna Bianca's lover had -turned out to be young Rossano and not somebody of higher rank, whose -proposals might not be so easy to dismiss as unsuitable. He must try to -get definite proof of Silvio Rossano being the suitor, however, and once -he had this proof in his hands, he could speak to the princess as -Monsieur d'Antin had proposed. And Monsieur d'Antin? The Abbe Roux -laughed softly to himself as he thought of Monsieur d'Antin. It was -certainly droll. Monsieur le Baron was--well, it was very evident what -he was. But he was shrewd, too! He wished to gratify two passions at -once. After all, his proposal was worthy of consideration; for if his -scheme were carried out, everybody's little passions might be gratified -and nobody would be the worse--except, perhaps, Donna Bianca Acorari. -Yes, it was certainly worth thinking about--this self-sacrifice offered -by Monsieur d'Antin. If the princess could be brought to see it, a -marriage between her step-daughter and her brother would, as Monsieur -d'Antin had frequently remarked, keep the Montefiano possessions in the -family, where it was very advisable from his--the abbe's--point of view -that they should be kept. - -The Abbe Roux had not been virtually the manager of Donna Bianca -Acorari's future inheritance for nearly ten years without having -developed a very keen personal interest in it. The princess, as she -said of herself, was not, and never had been, a woman of business. If -she had displayed a certain amount of worldly acumen in inducing the -late Prince Montefiano to make her his wife, there had been, it is only -fair to say, no undue pecuniary motives in her manoeuvres. Her life was -a lonely one, with absolutely no interests in it except those supplied -by her religion. These, indeed, might have been wide enough--so wide as -to embrace all humanity, had Mademoiselle d'Antin's religion been other -than a purely egoistical affair. But, like many other ultra-pious -people of all creeds, she labored under a conviction that future -happiness was only to be purchased at the cost of much present -mortification. Her own soul, consequently, was a perpetual burden to -her; and so, although in a very much less degree, were the souls of -others. Hence, at one moment of Mademoiselle d'Antin's life, a convent -had seemed to be the most fitting place in which to retire, and she had -come to Rome almost persuaded that she had a vocation to save herself -and others, by a life of seclusion and prayer, from the future evils -which she honestly imagined a Divine Creator petty and vindictive enough -to be capable of inflicting on His creatures. - -It was at this period that she happened to be thrown in the society of -Prince Montefiano, who had taken to appearing in the _salons_ of the -"black" world, perhaps as a sincere though tardy means of mortifying -that flesh which he had invariably indulged so long as it had been able -to respond to the calls made upon it. - -Very soon after her marriage with the reclaimed sheep, Mademoiselle -d'Antin, now Principessa di Montefiano, had made the acquaintance of her -compatriot, the Abbe Roux--at that time acting as secretary to a leading -cardinal of the Curia, well-known for his irreconcilable and -ultramontane principles. It was, perhaps, an exaggeration to declare, -as did the gossips in the clubs, that the princess and the Abbe Roux -between them had wrestled so hard for the salvation of Prince -Montefiano's soul as to cause him to yield it up from sheer _ennui_. It -was certain, however, that he soon succumbed under the process, and that -the abbe became more than ever indispensable to his widow. - -Prince Montefiano had, as the Abbe Roux soon found, left his affairs in -a very unsatisfactory state. The lands remaining in his possession were -heavily mortgaged, and a large proportion of the income derived from the -fief of Montefiano--the only property of any importance left was -swallowed up in payment of interest on the mortgages. - -Like many other landed proprietors in the Roman province, the prince -farmed out his rents to a middle-man, who paid him a fixed sum yearly, -and took what he might be able to make out of the estate over and above -this sum as his own profit. An agent at Montefiano collected the rents, -in money or kind, from the tenants, and paid them over to this -middle-man, who was himself a well-to-do _mercante di campagna_ with a -fair amount of capital at his back, and this individual was bound to pay -in to the prince's account the sum agreed upon, whether the season and -the crops were bad or good. After Prince Montefiano's death, this -system had been continued, by the advice of the Abbe Roux, to whom the -princess--feeling herself to be at a disadvantage in dealing with -it--not only as a foreigner, but also as merely the second wife of her -husband and not the mother of his only child and heiress had very soon -confided the superintendence of all the business connected with the -estates. - -The abbe, it is true, had, after the course of two or three years, made -a slight alteration in the system. On the expiration of the contract -with the middle-man who had hitherto farmed the rents, his offer to -renew on similar terms for a further number of years was not accepted. -The abbe had assured Princess Montefiano that, if she would intrust the -matter fully to him, he would find her a middleman who would pay a -larger yearly sum than had hitherto been given for the rights. The -princess had consented, and Monsieur l'Abbe had been as good as his -word. He produced an individual who offered some ten thousand francs a -year more than the _mercante di campagna_ had offered; and, as the abbe -pointed out, though not a very large addition to income, it was not a -sum to be thrown away in such critical times. This new arrangement had -worked so satisfactorily that, by degrees, the system was extended to -other portions of the Montefiano property, and not merely to the fief -which gave the princely title to its owners. - -Abbe Roux had been perfectly frank with the princess when he proposed -this extension of the "farming" system to the whole of her -step-daughter's property. It would not, he declared, be possible, -unless it could be guaranteed, or, at any rate promised, that the -contracts should be renewable at the expiration of the legal period of -their validity. It was, as he explained, an offer of a decidedly -speculative nature on the part of his friend the middle-man, and one -which could only be made on the understanding that its tenderer should -not be disturbed in his contract until Donna Bianca Acorari should come -of age, which would give him some ten years' rights over the produce of -the estates in question. This proviso, the abbe assured Princess -Montefiano, was, in his opinion, fair enough. The risks of bad seasons -had to be taken into account; the inability of tenants to pay their -rents; the vicissitudes to which live stock was always liable; and many -other considerations of a similar nature. Moreover, there was the risk -that Donna Bianca might die, or that the mortgagees might foreclose and -sell land--risks, in fact, of every kind. - -The princess had hesitated. The advantages of the proposal were obvious -if the few thousand francs' addition to yearly income was the only point -to be looked at. She did not, however, feel quite comfortable in her -mind as to whether she had any right to pledge Bianca not to interfere -or refuse to renew the contracts until she should be of age. Supposing -the girl were to marry before she was of age? In that case, according to -the prince's will, the estates were to be considered as Bianca's dowry, -and he had only added a stipulation (which, indeed, the Abbe Roux had -suggested), empowering his widow, Bianca's step-mother, to give or -withhold her consent in the event of a proposal of marriage being made -to his daughter while she was still a minor. - -The princess had put her scruples clearly before her adviser. She meant -to do her duty by Bianca according to her lights, although these, -perhaps, were not very brilliant. The abbe, however, had pointed out -that Donna Bianca would be in an altogether unusual position for a young -girl when she was a few years older. She would be an heiress, not -perhaps to a very large fortune, but, at all events, to one worth -bringing to any husband, and also to titles which would descend to her -children, certainly one of which, moreover, she would have the right of -bestowing upon the man she married. It would be a mere question of -settling a certain ruined castle and village upon him which carried a -title with them, and of going through the necessary formalities required -by the Italian government before a title so acquired became legal and -valid. This being the case, the danger of Donna Bianca Acorari becoming -the prey of some needy fortune-hunter, or even of some rich adventurer -who would marry her for the sake of her titles, was undoubtedly great. - -The danger would be great even when she was twenty-one, and might be -supposed to have gained some knowledge of the world and to know her own -mind. How much greater would it not be if she were to be allowed to -marry when she was seventeen or so? - -The abbe reminded Princess Montefiano of the clause in her husband's -will leaving it to her discretion to accept or refuse any proposal made -for Donna Bianca's hand while the girl was a minor. Surely, he argued, -it was wiser, under the circumstances, to take full advantage of the -powers given her. So far as the guaranteeing of the contracts for the -farming of the rents until Donna Bianca was of age was concerned, this, -the abbe declared, was not only a safeguard and protection against Donna -Bianca making an undesirable marriage, but it should also, with good -management, enable the princess to spend more money on the improvement -of her step-daughter's property while it was under her control. Donna -Bianca would, therefore, be all the better off when she came of age--and -Madame la Princesse would feel, when that time arrived, that she had -been a faithful steward of her interests. - -The princess was convinced, and more than convinced, by these arguments. -She had wondered how it was that she could even have entertained a doubt -as to the advisability of adopting Monsieur l'Abbe's proposals. It was -very true. Bianca would be placed in a very unusual position when she -arrived at a marriageable age. It could do no harm to delay her -marriage a year or two--and if, as Monsieur l'Abbe said, the scheme he -proposed would benefit the estates, she, the princess, should feel she -was not doing her duty by Bianca were she to oppose it. - -All this had happened six or seven years ago, and Princess Montefiano -had not since had any reason to doubt the soundness of the advice she -then received. The sums required by the terms of the contract were paid -in half yearly by the "farmer" of the rents with unfailing regularity, -and a great deal of trouble and responsibility was lifted from her own -shoulders. - -As for the Abbe Roux, he also had every reason to be satisfied with the -arrangement. It gave him no doubt a great deal of work to do which was -certainly not of a strictly professional character--but, as he told the -princess, having undertaken the supervision of her worldly affairs, and -having given her advice as to their conduct, he felt it to be his duty -personally to look into them. The _fattori_ on the different properties -had to be interviewed, and their accounts checked at certain seasons of -the year; and though all these matters were regulated by the head-agent -and administrator to the "Eccellentissima Casa Acorari" in the estates -office in Rome, nothing was finally approved of until it had been -submitted to the Abbe Roux, as directly representing their excellencies -the Principessa and the Principessina Bianca. - - - - - *XV* - - -On his arrival at the Villa Acorari, the Abbe Roux was at once ushered -into Princess Montefiano's private sitting-room, where she was waiting -him with evident anxiety. It was clear that something had occurred to -upset and annoy her, and the abbe was at once convinced that, as he had -suspected when he received her telegram, she had by some means -discovered her step-daughter's secret. - -He was scarcely prepared, however, for what had really happened. - -That morning's post had brought the Princess Montefiano a letter from -the Senator Rossano. To say that its contents had filled her with -amazement would be but a meagre description of her feelings. It was a -very short letter, but, like the learned senator's discourses, very much -to the point, and couched in a terseness of language very unusual in -Italian missives of so formal a character. - -The professor briefly apologized for addressing the Princess Montefiano -personally, without having the honor of knowing her otherwise than as a -tenant in her house, but added that the personal nature of the matter he -had to lay before her must be his excuse. He then proceeded, without -any further circumlocution, to inform the princess that his only son, -Silvio, had fallen desperately in love with her step-daughter, Donna -Bianca Acorari; that his son had some reason to believe Donna Bianca -might return his attachment were he permitted to address her; and -finally, that he, the Senator Rossano, at his son's desire, begged to -make a formal request that the latter should be allowed to plead his own -cause with Donna Bianca. The princess had, not unnaturally, been -petrified with astonishment on reading this letter, and her amazement -had quickly been succeeded by indignation. The thing was absurd, and -more than absurd; it was impertinent. Evidently this young man had seen -Bianca going in and out of the Palazzo Acorari, and had imagined himself -to have fallen in love with her--if, indeed, it was not simply a -barefaced attempt to secure her money without love entering at all into -the matter. - -Her first impulse had been to send for Bianca and ask her what it all -meant. On second thoughts, however, she decided not to mention the -subject to her until she had consulted the Abbe Roux. If, as was -probable, Bianca knew nothing about it, and the whole affair were only -the silly action of a boy who had persuaded his father that he was -desperately in love with a young girl upon whom he believed himself to -have made an impression, it would be very imprudent to put any ideas of -the kind into her head. No, the only wise course, the princess -reflected, was to hear what Monsieur l'Abbe might advise, though -naturally there could be but one answer to the Senator Rossano's letter. -Indeed, she would not reply to it in person. Such an impertinence -should be treated with silent contempt; or, if some answer had to be -given, she would depute the abbe to interview these Rossanos. - -The door had hardly closed behind the servant who showed him into the -room when Princess Montefiano put the letter into the abbe's hands. - -"Did you ever read anything so extraordinary in your life?" she asked -him. "Yes, it was about this I telegraphed to beg you to come to me. -It is an unheard-of impertinence, and I think the professor, senator--or -whatever he might be--Rossano must be a fool, and not the clever man you -say he is, or he would never have listened to this ridiculous son of -his." - -Princess Montefiano was evidently thoroughly angry, as, indeed, from her -point of view, she had every right to be. The Abbe Roux read the letter -through attentively. Then he coughed, arranged his _soutane_, and read -it through a second time. - -"Well?" asked the princess, impatiently. "Are you not as much amazed as -I am?" - -The abbe hesitated for a moment. Then he said, quietly: "No, madame, I -am not amazed at all." - -The princess stared at him. "Not amazed at all?" she re-echoed. -"But--" - -"May I ask," he interrupted, "if you have spoken to Donna Bianca of -this--this offer?" - -"Offer!" exclaimed the princess, scornfully. "I do not call it an -offer; I call it an insult--at least, it would be an insult if it were -not a stupidity. No, I have not as yet mentioned the subject to Bianca. -I thought I would wait until I had consulted with you. You see, -Monsieur l'Abbe, it is a delicate matter to discuss with a young girl, -because, if there is any love at all in the matter, it can only be a -case of love at first sight on the part of this youth--and for love at -first sight there is another name--" - -The abbe smiled. "Exactly, madame," he said. "You are very wise not to -mention the senator's letter to Donna Bianca. It would be better that -she should never know it had been written. At the same time, if you -read the letter carefully, you will observe that the young man believes -his affection to be reciprocated." - -The princess shrugged her shoulders. "The vanity of a youth who no -doubt thinks himself irresistible," she observed. "How could it be -reciprocated? I dare say he has seen Bianca driving, or, at the most, -passed her on the staircase." - -"I am inclined to think," said the abbe, "that he has more reason than -this to believe Donna Bianca to be not indifferent to him." - -Princess Montefiano started visibly. - -"_Mon Dieu_, monsieur, what do you mean?" she exclaimed. - -The Abbe Roux carefully refolded the letter, and, placing it in the -envelope, returned it to her. - -"Madame la Princesse," he said, after a pause, "the subject, as you -observed just now, is a delicate one. I regret that I should be obliged -to give you pain. Even had I not received your telegram, I should have -felt it to be my duty to come to see you on this matter." - -"You knew it, then?" asked the princess, more bewildered than ever. - -"Yes, I knew it," replied the priest. "It came to my knowledge only -three or four days since. I fear, madame, that Donna Bianca has given -this young man every reason to feel himself justified in persuading his -father to address this letter to you. That does not excuse his -presumption--certainly not! But, as I say, it makes it more -reasonable." - -Princess Montefiano turned to him with some dignity. "Monsieur l'Abbe," -she said, "are you aware what your words imply? You are speaking of my -step-daughter, of Donna Bianca Acorari." - -The Abbe Roux spread out his hands apologetically. "Alas, madame!" he -replied, "I am fully aware of it. But I consider it to be my duty to -speak to you of Donna Bianca. I think," he added, "that you have never -had cause to complain of my failing in my duty towards Casa Acorari, or -of any lack of discretion on my part, since you honored me with your -confidence." - -"That is true," said Princess Montefiano, hurriedly; "I ask your pardon, -Monsieur l'Abbe. I am sure that whatever you may have to tell me is -prompted by your sense of the confidence I repose in you. But, Bianca! -I do not understand--" - -"It is a very simple matter," interrupted the abbe. "A person of my -acquaintance was an accidental witness of an interview between Donna -Bianca and young Rossano--here in the grounds of the Villa Acorari--a -few days ago. It appears that there can be no doubt it was a lover's -interview, and probably not the first of its kind between these two -young people." - -The princess turned a horrified gaze upon him. - -"And you call that a simple matter!" she exclaimed, so soon as she could -find words. - -The abbe shrugged his shoulders. - -"Madame," he replied, "between two people who are young and -good-looking, love is always a simple matter! It is in its results that -complications arise." - -"Monsieur l'Abbe!" exclaimed the princess. - -"Precisely," he proceeded--"in its results. It is from these results -that we must try to save Donna Bianca." - -Princess Montefiano seemed as though she were about to give way to -uncontrollable agitation. - -"But it is impossible!" she cried. "Great God--it is impossible! -Bianca is little more than a child still. You do not mean to -suggest--what can I say? The thought is too horrible!" - -The Abbe Roux rubbed his hands gently together. "We will trust things -are not quite so serious as that," he said, slowly. "Indeed," he added, -"I do not for a moment believe that they are so. Nevertheless, my -informant declares that the interview between the two lovers was--well, -of a very passionate nature. I fear, madame, you have been mistaken in -looking upon Donna Bianca as merely a child." - -The princess groaned. "That is what my brother has told me more than -once of late," she said. - -"He has said the same to me," remarked the abbe. "Monsieur your brother -is, as one may say, a keen observer," he added. - -"But what can we do?" exclaimed Princess Montefiano, almost -hysterically. "Good Heavens!" she continued; "how thankful I am that I -telegraphed to you! I can rely on your discretion, monsieur, as a -friend--as a priest!" - -"As both, madame," returned the abbe, bowing. "The situation is -certainly a difficult one, and Donna Bianca, through her inexperience, -has no doubt placed herself in an equivocal position. Unfortunately, -the world never forgets an indiscretion committed by a young girl; and, -as I have said, there was a witness to Donna Bianca's last interview -with this young man. That is to say, this individual could hear, though -he could not see, all that passed between them." - -"Ah! And who is this individual?" asked the princess, hastily. "Is he -a person whose silence can be bought?" - -The Abbe Roux shook his head. "I am pledged not to reveal the name," he -replied. "I must beg of you, madame, not to ask me to do so. As -regards his silence, that is not to be bought--and even if it were, I -should not advise such a course. It would be equivalent to -admitting--well, that the worst construction could be placed on Donna -Bianca's unfortunate actions." - -"Good Heavens!" repeated the princess. "What can be done? What course -can we pursue with that unhappy child? Ah! it is the mother's blood -coming out in her, Monsieur l'Abbe." - -The abbe thought that the paternal strain might also be taken into -account; but he very naturally kept the reflection to himself. - -"The responsibility is a terrible one for me," continued Princess -Montefiano. "If anything happens to Bianca, if she were to make a bad -marriage--and, still more, if there were to be any scandal about her, -people would say I had neglected her because she was not my own child--" - -"Yes, madame," interposed the abbe, quietly, "but there must be no bad -marriage, and there must be no scandal. It will be my task to assist you -in making both things impossible." - -"Yes, but how? She has put herself in the power of these Rossanos. -Probably the father is quite aware that the child has compromised -herself with his son by the very fact of meeting him alone and -secretly--otherwise he would not have ventured to write this letter. -And then, there is this, other person--your informant. Do you not see, -monsieur, that my step-daughter's good name is seriously compromised by -being at the mercy of people like these Rossanos, who are not of our -world? They would be quite capable of revenging themselves for my -treating their proposal with the contempt it deserves by spreading some -story about Bianca." - -The abbe did not reply for a moment or two. "I do not think they will -do that," he said, presently. "The senator is too well-known a man to -care to place himself and his son in a false position. Though the -story, if it became known, would certainly be injurious to Donna Bianca, -it would not redound to the credit of the Rossanos. A young man with -any sense of honor does not place an inexperienced girl in such an -equivocal position. No--I should be much more afraid that, unless Donna -Bianca is removed from all possibility of being again approached by the -young Rossano, he will acquire such an influence over her that sooner or -later he will oblige her to marry him." - -"But it would be an absolute _mesalliance_!" exclaimed Princess -Montefiano. - -"Of course it would be a _mesalliance_, from the worldly point of view," -said the abbe. "It would also be a crime," he added. - -"A crime!" - -"Yes, certainly, madame. Would you give a young girl, for whose -spiritual welfare you are responsible, to the son of Professor -Rossano--a man whose blasphemous writings and discourses have perverted -the minds and ruined the faith of half the youth of Italy? Why, Bruno -was burned for hazarding opinions which were orthodox in comparison with -the assertions made by Rossano on the authority of his miserable -science!" - -The princess shuddered. "Of course!" she replied. "I forgot for the -moment whom we were discussing. No matter what might happen, I would -never give my consent to Bianca's marriage with a free-thinker. I would -rather see her dead, and a thousand times rather see her in a convent." - -The Abbe Roux smiled. "Fortunately," he said, "there are other -solutions. Donna Bianca has shown very clearly that she has no vocation -for conventual life, and of the other we need not speak." - -"I do not see the solutions you speak of," returned the princess, with a -sigh. - -"There is only one which presents itself to my mind as being not only -simple, but absolutely necessary for the moment," said the abbe. "Donna -Bianca," he continued, looking at the princess gravely, "must be removed -where there can be no danger of her again seeing this young Rossano. -She is young, and evidently impressionable, and in time she will forget -him. It is to be hoped that he, too, will forget her. Do you -recollect, madame, my telling you that for a young lady in Donna Bianca -Acorari's position, anything that protected her against marrying before -she attained years of discretion was an advantage?" - -The princess nodded. "I do, indeed," she replied. "I see now how right -you were. A young girl with the prospects Bianca has is always in -danger of falling a prey to some fortune-hunter, such as, no doubt, this -Rossano is." - -"I hope," continued the abbe, "that my present advice to you will prove -as sound as the advice I gave you then, and as advantageous to Donna -Bianca's true interests. I, personally, am convinced that it will prove -so--and I offer it as the only solution I can see to the problem with -which we have to deal--I mean, madame, the problem of how to extricate -Donna Bianca from the position in which she has been placed, without -further difficulties arising. May I make my suggestion?" he added. - -"Why, of course, Monsieur l'Abbe!" replied Princess Montefiano. "It is -what I asked you here to do--to give me your assistance in this very -painful matter. - -"You must take Donna Bianca away from here, madame." - -"Of course," said the princess; "I had already thought of that. But the -question is, where can I take her? To return to Palazzo Acorari is -impossible. She would be exposed to the probability of meeting this -young man every day. I cannot turn the Rossanos out of their apartment, -for, so far as I recollect, the lease has still two years to run. And if -I take Bianca to some other town, or to some sea-side place, what is to -prevent the young man from following us?" - -"Very true," assented the Abbe Roux. "I also have thought of these -difficulties," he added. "I have considered the matter well, and it -seems to me that there is only one place in which Donna Bianca could -satisfactorily be guarded from further annoyance." - -"And where is that?" - -"Her own castle at Montefiano." - -"Montefiano?" the princess exclaimed. "But, Monsieur l'Abbe, -Montefiano, as you well know, is practically deserted--abandoned. There -is, I believe, no furniture in the house." - -"The furniture could be sent there," said the abbe. "There could be no -better place for Donna Bianca to remain for a few months, or until she -has forgotten this youthful love-affair. It would not be easy for a -stranger to obtain access to the castle at Montefiano without it being -known--and, as you are aware, madame, the domain is of considerable -extent. It would not be an imprisonment." - -"I have only once been at Montefiano," said the princess, "and then only -for the day. It struck me as being a very dreary place, except, -perhaps, in the summer." - -"The air is good," observed the abbe, a little dryly, "and, as I say, it -has the advantage of being out of the way. My advice would be to take -Donna Bianca there as soon as possible. In a week or ten days the rooms -could be made quite comfortable, and servants could be sent from Rome. -After all, there would be nothing strange in the fact of your having -decided to spend a few weeks at Montefiano, especially at this season of -the year." - -"Perhaps you are right, monsieur," said the Princess Montefiano. "At -any rate," she added, "I can think of no better plan for the moment. -What distresses me now is that I do not know what to say to Bianca, or -how to say it. I cannot let her think that I know nothing of what has -happened--and I am still in the dark, Monsieur l'Abbe, as to--well, as -to how much has happened." - -The abbe pondered for a moment. "I should be inclined, madame, not to -give Donna Bianca any definite reason for your visit to Montefiano. You -can scarcely tell her your real object in taking her there without -letting her know that young Rossano has made you a formal proposal for -her hand. You must remember she is quite unaware that her meeting with -him was observed, and she would, therefore, at once guess that you must -have had some communication from the Rossano family." - -The princess looked doubtful. From the Abbe Roux she would, to quote -Shakespeare, "take suggestion as a cat laps milk." Nevertheless, to -pretend to Bianca that she was in complete ignorance of her conduct -seemed to be derogatory to her own position as the girl's step-mother -and guardian. - -"I must certainly speak to Bianca sooner or later," she began. - -"Then, madame," said the abbe, "let it be later, I beg of you. There -will be time enough when you are at Montefiano to explain to Donna -Bianca your reasons for your actions. If you go into the subject with -her now she may communicate with her lover, and warn him that she is -being taken to Montefiano. When she is once safely there, it will not -matter. It will, of course, be known that you are residing at -Montefiano, but Montefiano is not Villa Acorari. A convent itself could -not be a more secure retreat." - -"Well," returned the princess, "perhaps you are right. But I must say I -do not like the idea of meeting Bianca as if nothing at all had -happened. It appears to me to be scarcely--scarcely honorable on my -part, and to be encouraging her in maintaining a deception towards me." - -"_Chere madame_," said the Abbe Roux, blandly, "I fully understand your -scruples, and they do you credit. But we must remember the end we have -in view. This absurd love-affair between a boy and a girl--for it is, -after all, nothing more serious--must be put an end to in such a way as -to preserve Donna Bianca Acorari's name from any breath of scandal." - -"Then," replied Princess Montefiano, "you advise me to say nothing to -Bianca at present." - -"At present I should say nothing. There is one thing, however, that you -should do, madame--a necessary precaution against any further -communication passing between Donna Bianca and young Rossano. I believe -that Mademoiselle Durand continues giving Donna Bianca lessons, does she -not? I think you told me that she was at Albano, and that you had -arranged for her to come here two or three days weekly." - -"Ah!" exclaimed Princess Montefiano, "Mademoiselle Durand! Do you mean -to say that she has been the go-between in this affair?" - -"I know nothing for certain," replied the abbe, "but I have been told -that young Rossano and she are on intimate terms--that they walk -together in Rome--" - -"A respectable company, truly, for my step-daughter to find herself in!" -said Princess Montefiano--"a professor's son and a daily governess!" - -The Abbe Roux sighed. "I fear," he said, "that this woman has played a -very mischievous part, but I cannot be certain. It would be as well, -perhaps, not to give her any explanations, but merely to inform her that -you no longer require her for Donna Bianca. All these details, madame," -he added, "you will learn later on, no doubt, from Donna Bianca herself. -But for the moment, believe me, the less said to any one on the subject, -the better." - -"Yes, yes, I quite see that you are right, Monsieur l'Abbe," said the -princess, hurriedly. "Your advice is always sound, and whenever I have -not taken it I have always regretted the fact. There is one person, -however, to whom I must give some explanation of my sudden move to -Montefiano, and that is my brother. He was coming to spend a fortnight -or so here." - -"Ah, Monsieur le Baron," observed the Abbe Roux. "No, there would, of -course, be no objection in your confiding in Monsieur le Baron. Indeed, -it would be but natural to do so." - -"Exactly," returned Princess Montefiano. "My brother is, after all, the -child's uncle, so to speak." - -The abbe smiled. "Scarcely, madame," he replied; "there is not the -slightest connection between them." - -"Of course not, really," the princess said, "but a kind of relationship -through me." - -"I think," observed the abbe, hesitatingly--"it has seemed to me that -monsieur your brother takes a great interest in Donna Bianca. He has -certainly been very quick to discern things in her which have escaped -the notice of others." - -Princess Montefiano directed a quick glance at him, and then she looked -away. - -"I am afraid," proceeded the priest, "that this affair will be quite a -blow to him; yes, indeed, quite a blow. Monsieur le Baron, after all, -is a comparatively young man, and--" - -He hesitated again, and then stopped abruptly. - -The princess glanced at him nervously. - -"It is strange that you should say this, Monsieur l'Abbe," she said. "I -have, I confess, sometimes thought, sometimes wondered-- Ah, but -certain things cross one's mind occasionally which are better left -unspoken!" - -The Abbe Roux looked at her. "We may leave our present thoughts -unspoken, Madame la Princesse," he said, with a smile. "I imagine," he -continued, "that the same idea has struck both of us. Well, supposing -such a thing to be the case, what then? There is nothing unnatural in -the situation--nothing at all. A disparity of age, very likely; but, -again, what is disparity of age? An idea--a sentiment. A man who has -arrived at the years of Monsieur le Baron may be said to have gained his -experience--to have had time _de se ranger_. Such husbands are often -more satisfactory than younger men." - -The princess checked him with a gesture. - -"But it is an imagination!" she exclaimed--"a mere idea. I confess I -have once or twice thought that my brother looked at Bianca in--in -rather a peculiar way, you know--as if he admired her very much; and, -yes, I have even made an excuse sometimes to send Bianca out of the room -when he was calling on me. I did not think she should be exposed to -anything which might put ideas into her head." - -"It appears to me, madame, that your precautions were unnecessary," said -the Abbe Roux, dryly. "The ideas, as we now know, were already there." - -"Alas, yes!" sighed the princess. "But," she added, "do you really -think that there can be anything in it, Monsieur l'Abbe? It seems too -strange--too unnatural, I was about to say; but that would not be quite -true, as you pointed out just now." - -The Abbe Roux made a gesture with outspread hands. - -"Madame," he said, "I know as much as you do of what may be in monsieur -your brother's mind. It is probable, however, that he has some thoughts -of the kind concerning Donna Bianca, or we should not both have -suspected their existence. Does the idea shock you so much?" he added, -suddenly. - -"Yes--no," returned Princess Montefiano, confusedly. "I can hardly tell. -Do not let us talk any more about it, Monsieur l'Abbe--not, at all -events, at present. We have so much else to occupy our thoughts. Of -course, I must let my brother know what has happened, and explain to him -that I shall not be able to receive him here." - -"Of course," assented the Abbe Roux. "I have no doubt," he added, "that -Monsieur le Baron will be quite as pleased to pay his visit to you at -Montefiano." - -The princess apparently did not hear him. She stooped and picked up -Professor Rossano's letter, which had fallen from her lap onto the -floor. - -"And this?" she asked, holding the missive out to the abbe. "What reply -am I to send to this--if, indeed, any reply is necessary?" - -"There is only one reply to make; namely, that the proposal cannot be -entertained either now or at any future time," replied the abbe. "It is -not necessary to enter into any explanations," he continued. - -And, after discussing for some time longer with the princess the -necessary arrangements to be made for moving to Montefiano with as -little delay as possible, the Abbe Roux took his leave and returned by -an afternoon train to Rome. - - - - - *XVI* - - -"I told you how it would be, Silvio," Giacinta Rossano said to her -brother. "I don't see what else you could have expected." - -"I did not expect anything else," returned Silvio, placidly. "At all -events," he added, "we now know where we are." - -Giacinta laughed dryly. "Do you?" she asked. "It appears to me that -you are--nowhere! Nothing could be more explicit than Princess -Montefiano's reply to Babbo's letter--and nothing could be more marked -than the brief way she dismisses your proposals. I can assure you that -Babbo is very much annoyed. I do not think I have ever seen him so -annoyed about anything--unless it was when a servant we had last season -lighted the fire with some proof-sheets he had left lying on the floor." - -"It is not the slightest use his being annoyed," said Silvio. - -"At least you must admit that it is not a pleasant position for a father -to be placed in," observed Giacinta. "He told me this morning, Silvio," -she added, "that nothing could induce him to do anything more in the -matter. He says you have had your answer, and that the best thing you -can do is to try to forget all that has happened. After all, there are -plenty of other girls to choose from. Why need you make your life -unhappy because these Acorari will not have anything to say to you?" - -"Princess Montefiano is not an Acorari," replied Silvio, obstinately. -"There is only one Acorari concerned in the matter, and she has -everything to say to me!" - -Giacinta sighed. She knew by experience that it was of no use to argue -with this headstrong brother of hers when once an idea was fixed in his -mind. - -"May one ask what you propose to do next?" she inquired, after a pause. -"Your communications in the shape of Mademoiselle Durand having been -cut, and Villa Acorari no doubt probably watched and guarded, I do not -see how you are going to approach Donna Bianca in the future. At any -rate, you mustn't count upon Babbo doing anything, Silvio, for he told -me to-day he did not wish to hear the subject mentioned any more. You -know what he is about anything disagreeable--how he simply ignores its -existence." - -Silvio Rossano smiled. "I know well," he replied. "It is not a bad -plan, that of simply brushing a disagreeable thing to one side. But few -people are able to carry it out so consistently as Babbo does. In this -case, Giacinta, it is the best thing he can do. There is nothing to be -said or done, for the moment. When there is, you will see that Bianca -and I will manage it. It is certainly a bore about Mademoiselle Durand -having been told to discontinue giving her lessons at Villa Acorari." - -Giacinta shrugged her shoulders. "Considering the subject chosen for -instruction, it is not to be wondered at if the princess thought they -had better cease," she remarked, dryly. - -Silvio smiled. Knowing that Bianca Acorari loved him, nothing seemed to -matter very much. It had been the uncertainty whether she had observed -and understood his passion for her, and the longing to be sure that, if -so, it had awakened in her some response, which had seemed so difficult -to insure. - -"Luckily," he said, "the princess played her card a day or two too late. -Bianca had my letter, and Mademoiselle Durand brought me back her answer -to it." - -"Ah!" exclaimed Giacinta, "you never told me that you had corresponded -with each other since you met." - -"I don't think you and I have discussed the subject since I told you of -our meeting," said Silvio. "I told Babbo." - -"What did he say?" - -"He said I was an imbecile--no, a pumpkin-head," answered Silvio, his -eyes twinkling with mirth. "Also, he said I was like a donkey in the -month of May, and that he did not wish to hear any more asinine -love-songs--and, oh, several other observations of the kind." - -"His opinion is generally looked upon as being a very good one," -observed Giacinta, tranquilly. - -Silvio laughed outright. Giacinta's satirical remarks always amused -him, even when they were made at his expense. "It is certainly a -misfortune that Mademoiselle Durand is no longer to go to Villa -Acorari," he said. "I must say," he added, "she has proved herself to -be a most loyal friend--and an entirely disinterested one, too." - -Giacinta glanced at him. "I suppose," she said, "that Mademoiselle -Durand likes a little romance. I believe most single women who are over -thirty and under fifty do." - -"I suppose so," observed Silvio, carelessly. "She seemed quite upset -when she told me of the note she had received from Princess Montefiano. -I thought, of course, that she felt she had lost an engagement." - -"But did the princess give a reason for dispensing with her services?" -asked Giacinta. - -"No. The note merely said that as Donna Bianca's studies would not be -continued, there was no necessity for Mademoiselle Durand to come any -more to Villa Acorari. The princess enclosed money for the lessons -given--and that was all. But, of course, Giacinta," continued Silvio, -"I felt that Mademoiselle Durand had lost her engagement through -befriending me. Though the princess for some reason did not allude to -anything of the kind, I am sure she must know, or suspect, the part -Mademoiselle Durand has played." - -"I should think so, undoubtedly," remarked Giacinta. - -"And naturally," Silvio proceeded, "I felt very uncomfortable about it. -I did not quite know what to do, and I offered--" - -"Yes?" said his sister, as he paused, hesitatingly. - -"Well, Giacinta, you see, she had probably lost money through me, so I -offered to--to make her loss good, so to say." - -"And then?" - -"Oh, and then she was very angry, and said that I insulted her. After -that she cried. One does not like to see grown-up people cry; it is -very unpleasant. She said that I did not understand; that what she had -done was out of mere friendship and sympathy--for me and for Bianca. I -knew she had grown attached to Bianca, Giacinta; she had told me so once -before. After all, nobody who saw much of Bianca could help being fond -of her." - -Giacinta looked at him for a moment or two without speaking. - -"I am not surprised that she was angry," she said, at length. "As to -her being attached to Donna Bianca--well, it appears that even people -who have not seen much of her become attached to that girl. It is a -gift, I suppose. But all this does not tell me what you mean to do, now -you can no longer employ Mademoiselle Durand to fetch and carry for -you." - -"We mean to wait," said Silvio, quietly. "Bianca and I are quite agreed -as to that. Three years are soon over, and then, if she still chooses -to marry me, neither the princess nor anybody else can prevent her. It -is the best way, Giacinta, for it leaves her free, and then none can say -that I took advantage of her inexperience." - -"And in the mean time, if they marry her to somebody else?" - -"But they will not. They cannot force her to marry. If they tried to do -so, then we would not wait three years, nor even three weeks." - -"But you might know nothing about it, Silvio," said Giacinta. "And they -might tell her you had given her up, or that you were in love with some -one else--anything, in fact, to make her think no more about you." - -Silvio smiled. "You are full of objections," he said; "but you need not -be uneasy. It is true that we no longer have Mademoiselle Durand to -depend upon, but we shall find other means of communicating with each -other. After all, shall we not be under the same roof here all the -winter and spring? The princess will not remain at the Villa Acorari -forever. No--if there should be any pressure put upon Bianca to make -her give me up against her will I shall very soon know it. We are -agreed on all those points. If the princess keeps quiet, we shall keep -quiet also. She has a perfect right to refuse her consent to Bianca -marrying me--for the present. But in course of time that right will no -longer hold good. While it does, however, Bianca and I have agreed to -respect it, unless, in order to protect ourselves, we are forced to set -it at defiance, get some priest to marry us, and delay the legal -marriage till afterwards. This is what I have explained to Babbo--and he -calls it the braying of donkeys in May. Well, at least the donkeys know -what one another mean, which, after all, is something gained--from their -point of view!" - -Giacinta laughed, and then became suddenly grave again. - -"Well, Silvio _mio_," she replied, "you seem to have settled everything -in your own mind, and I only hope it will all be as easy as you think. -So much depends on the girl herself. If you are sure of her, then, as -you say, three years soon pass. In the mean time, if I were you, I -would watch very carefully. As I have told you before, for some reason -which we know nothing of, it is not intended that the girl should marry; -and when I say they might marry her to somebody else, I do not believe -it." - -Silvio shrugged his shoulders. "All the better for me," he observed; -and Giacinta, with a slight gesture of impatience, was about to reply, -when the professor entered the room. - - - - - *XVII* - - -The _sollione_ had ran his course. Already the vines on the slopes -below Montefiano were showing patches of ruddy gold among their foliage, -and the grapes were beginning to color, sometimes a glossy purple, -sometimes clearest amber. Figs and peaches were ripe on the fruit trees -rising from among the vines, and here and there tall, yellow spikes of -Indian-corn rattled as the summer breeze passed over them. - -Solitary figures prowled about the vineyard with guns--no brigands, but -merely local sportsmen lying in wait for the dainty _beccafichi_ which -visit the fig-trees at this season and slit open the ripest figs with -their bills. In the evening a half-dozen of the plump little -brown-and-white birds will make a succulent addition to the dish of -_polenta_ on which they will repose. Perhaps, if fortune favor, a -turtle-dove, or even a partridge, may find its way into the oven for the -sportsman's evening meal. In the mean time, a few purple figs, from -which the sun has scarcely kissed away the chill of the night dew, a -hunch of brown bread and a draught of white wine from a flask left in -the shade and covered with cool, green vine leaves, form a breakfast not -to be despised by one who has been out with his gun since the dawn was -spreading over the Sabine hills and the mists were rolling back before -it across the Roman Campagna to the sea. - -Who that has not wandered through her vineyards and forests, among her -mountains and by the side of her waters in the early hours of a summer -dawn, or the late hours of a summer night, knows the beauty of Italy? -Then the old gods live again and walk the earth, and nature triumphs. -The air is alive with strange whisperings: the banks and the hedgerows -speak to those who have ears to hear--of things that lie hidden and -numbed during the hot glare of the day. - -The gray shadows lying over the _campagna_ were fast dissolving before a -light that seemed to change almost imperceptibly from silver into gold, -as the first rays of the rising sun stole over the Sabine mountains. -Across the plain, the summit of Soracte was already bathed in light, -while its base yet lay invisible, wreathed in the retreating mists. The -air was fresh with the scent of vines and fig-trees, and long threads of -gossamer, sparkling with a million dew-drops, hung from grassy banks -rising above a narrow pathway between the terraces of the vineyards. - -A black figure suddenly appeared round an angle of the winding path. -Don Agostino Lelli, his cassock brushing the blossoms of wild geranium -and purple mallow as he passed, was making his way in the dawn of the -summer morning back to Montefiano. He had been sitting through the -night with a dying man--a young fellow whom an accident with a loaded -wagon had mortally injured. The end had come an hour or two before the -dawn, and Don Agostino had speeded the parting soul with simple human -words of hope and comfort, which had brought a peace and a trust that -all the rites enjoined by the Church had failed to do. Perhaps he was -thinking of the failure, and wondering why sympathy and faith in the -goodness of God had seemed to be of more avail at the death-bed he had -just left than ceremonies and sacraments. - -His refined, intellectual countenance wore a very thoughtful expression -as he walked leisurely through the vineyards. It was not an anxious nor -an unhappy expression, but rather that of a man trying to think out the -solution of an interesting problem. As a matter of fact, he had been -brought face to face with a problem, and it was not the first time he -had been confronted by it. - -He had, as in duty bound, administered the last sacrament of the Church -to a dying man who had made due confession to him. But he had known -perfectly well in his own mind that those sacraments had been regarded -by his penitent as little else than a formality to be observed under the -circumstances. He knew that if he had asked that lad when he was in -health whether he honestly believed the _santissimo_ to be what he had -been told it was, the answer would not have been satisfactory to a -priest to hear. He had asked the question that night, and two words had -been whispered back to him in reply--"_Chi sa?_" - -They were very simple words, but Don Agostino felt that they contained a -truth which could not be displeasing to the God of Truth. Moreover, he -honored the courage of the lad more than he did that of many who dared -not confess inability to believe what reason refused to admit. - -"Who knows?" he had said to himself, half-smiling, repeating the young -fellow's answer. And then he had added aloud, "You will know very -soon--better than any of us. Until then, only trust. God will teach you -the rest." - -Afterwards, answered by the look on the dying lad's face, he had given -the sacrament. - -And now Don Agostino was walking homeward in the peaceful summer dawn, -and if there was pity in his heart for the strong young life suddenly -taken away from the beautiful world around him, there was also some joy. -Even now the veil was lifted, and the boy--knew. Perhaps the simple, -human understanding, which could have no place in theology, had not led -him so far astray, and had already found favor in the eyes of Him who -gave it. - -And Don Agostino looked at the landscape around him, waking up to a new -day and laughing in the first rays of a risen sun. As he looked he -crossed himself, and the lad who had been summoned from all this beauty -was followed to his new home by a prayer. - -Suddenly Don Agostino's meditations were interrupted by the report of a -gun fired some yards in front of him, immediately succeeded by a -pattering of spent shot among the leaves on the bank above him. He -called out quickly, in order to warn the unseen _cacciatore_ of his -propinquity; for there was a sharp bend in the pathway immediately ahead -of him, and he by no means wished to receive the contents of a second -barrel as he turned it. A reassuring shout answered him, and he -quickened his pace until, after turning the corner, a brown setter came -up and sniffed at him amicably, while its owner appeared among the vines -close by. - -Don Agostino lifted his hat in response to the sportsman's salutation -and regrets at having startled him. - -"I was safe enough where I was, _signore_," he said, smiling; "but it -was as well to warn you that there was somebody on the path. I did not -wish to be taken for a crow," he added, with a downward glance at his -_soutane_. - -The _cacciatore_ laughed. "Your reverence would have been even safer as -a crow," he replied; "but indeed there was no danger. I was firing well -above the path at a turtledove, which I missed badly. But it is better -to miss than to wound." - -Don Agostino looked at the speaker, and there was approval in his -glance, either of the sentiment or of the appearance of the -sportsman--perhaps of both. - -"_Sicuro_," he replied, "it is better to miss than to wound. For my -part, I should prefer always to miss; but then I am not a sportsman, as -you see. All the same, I am glad you _cacciatori_ do not always -miss--from the point of view of the stomach, you know. The _signore_ is -from Rome, I conclude?" - -The other hesitated for a moment. - -"From Rome--yes," he replied, - -Don Agostino glanced at him again, and thought how good-looking the -young man was. A gentleman, evidently, by his manner and bearing--but a -stranger, for he had certainly never seen him in Montefiano. - -"I," he said, "am the _parroco_ of Montefiano--Agostino Lelli, _per -servirla_." - -The young _cacciatore_ started slightly, and then he hesitated again. -Courtesy necessitated his giving his own name in return. - -"And I, _reverendo_," he replied, after a slight pause, "am Silvio -Rossano, of Rome." - -Don Agostino looked surprised. - -"Rossano?" he said. "A relative, perhaps, of the Senator Rossano?" - -"My father," replied Silvio. "Your reverence knows him?" - -"_Altrocche_!" exclaimed Don Agostino, holding out his hand. "Your -father is an old friend--one of my oldest friends in days gone by. But -I have not seen anything of him for years. _Che vuole_! When one lives -at Montefiano one does not see illustrious professors. One sees -peasants--and pigs. Not but what there are things to be learned from -both of them. And so you are the son of Professor Rossano? But you -have not come to Montefiano for sport--no? There is not much game about -here, as no doubt you have already discovered." - -He glanced at Silvio's game-bag as he spoke. Three or four _beccafichi_ -and a turtle-dove seemed to be its entire contents. - -Silvio looked embarrassed, though he had felt that the priest's question -must come. His embarrassment did not escape Don Agostino, who jumped at -the somewhat hasty conclusion that either this young man must be hiding -from creditors, or else that he must be wandering in unfrequented places -with a mistress. In this latter case, however, Don Agostino thought it -improbable that he would be out so early in the morning. It was, no -doubt, a question of creditors. Young men went away from Montefiano -when they could scrape up enough money to emigrate, but he had never -known one to come there. - -Silvio's answer tended to confirm his suspicions concerning the -creditors. - -"I did not come to Montefiano for the sport, certainly," he said; "and, -indeed, I am not living in Montefiano itself. I am staying at -Civitacastellana for the moment." - -"Civitacastellana!" exclaimed Don Agostino. "Pardon my curiosity, my -dear Signor Rossano, but how in the world do you occupy yourself at -Civitacastellana--unless, indeed, you are an artist? It is a beautiful -spot, certainly, with its neighboring ravines and its woods, but--well, -after Rome you must find it quiet, decidedly quiet. And the inn--I know -that inn. One feels older when one has passed a night there." - -"I cannot call myself an artist," said Silvio, laughing, "though I -certainly draw a great deal. I am an engineer by profession, and -Civitacastellana is--well, as you say, a very quiet place. Sometimes -one likes a quiet place, after Rome." - -"Ah, yes, that is true," returned Don Agostino, thoughtfully. "I, too, -have come to a quiet place after Rome, but then I have been in it more -than ten years. I think the change loses its effect when one tries it -for so long a time." - -Silvio glanced at him. He had at once realized that this was no -ordinary village priest, scarcely, if at all removed from the peasant -class. The quiet, educated voice, the polished Italian, the clear-cut, -intellectual features, all told their own tale quickly enough. And this -Don Lelli was an old friend of his father. Silvio was well aware that -his father did not number very many priests among his friends, and that -the few whom he did so number were distinguished for their wide learning -and liberal views. - -"You know Rome, _reverendo_?" he inquired, with some curiosity, though -he knew well enough that he was talking to a Roman. - -Don Agostino smiled. "Yes," he replied, "I know Rome. That is to say," -he added, "if anybody can assert that he knows Rome. It is a -presumptuous assertion to make. Perhaps I should rather say that I know -one or two features of Rome." - -"You no doubt studied there?" - -"Yes, I studied there. I was also born there--like yourself, no doubt. -We are both _Romani di Roma_--one cannot mistake the accent." - -"And it was then you knew my father, of course," said Silvio. - -"When I was a seminarist? No, some years after that period of my life. -I knew your father when--well, when I was something more than I am now," -concluded Don Agostino, with a slight smile. - -"When you were a parish priest in the city?" asked Silvio. - -"When I was at the Vatican," replied Don Agostino, quietly. - -"At the Vatican!" Silvio exclaimed. - -Don Agostino laughed quietly. "Why not?" he returned. "You are thinking -to yourself that members of the pontifical court are not usually sent to -such places as Montefiano. Well, it is a long story, but your father -will tell it you. He will not have forgotten it--I am quite sure of -that." - -They had walked on together while they were talking, and presently -emerged on the steep road leading up the hill to Montefiano. From this -point Silvio could see the little town clustering against the face of -the rock some mile or so above them, and the great, square castle of the -Acorari dominating it. - -"You have been to Montefiano?" Don Agostino asked his companion. - -"Yes," answered Silvio, "several times. But," he added, "the -Montefianesi do not seem very communicative to strangers." - -Don Agostino laughed. "They are unaccustomed to them," he said, dryly; -"but they are good folk when once you know them. For the rest, there is -not much for them to be communicative about." - -"Has the castle no history?" - -"It has much the same history as all our mediaeval and renaissance -strongholds--that is to say, a mixture of savagery, splendor, and crime. -But the Montefianesi would not be able to tell you much about it. I -doubt if nine out of every ten of them have ever been inside it." - -"But it is inhabited now," said Silvio, quickly. - -Don Agostino glanced at him, struck by a sudden change in the tone of -his companion's voice. - -"Yes," he replied, "for the first time for many years. The princess and -her step-daughter, Donna Bianca Acorari, are there at present." - -"You know them, of course, _reverendo_?" - -"I have not that honor," replied Don Agostino. "My professional duties -do not bring me into communication with them, except occasionally upon -paper. But," he continued, "will you not come to my house? You can see -it yonder--near the church, behind those chestnut-trees. It is getting -late for your shooting, and I dare say you have walked enough. I have -to say mass at six o'clock, but this morning I shall be late, for it is -that now. Afterwards we will have some coffee and some eggs. We have -both been occupied for the last few hours, though in different ways; and -I, for one, need food." - -Silvio accepted the invitation with alacrity, and they proceeded to -mount the long hill together. - -"I thought," he observed, presently, "that you would certainly be -acquainted with Princess Montefiano." - -"Are you acquainted with her?" asked Don Agostino, somewhat abruptly. - -"No," replied Silvio, "except by sight. My father lives in Palazzo -Acorari in Rome--we have the second floor." - -Don Agostino said nothing, and they walked on for some minutes in -silence. The heat of the sun was by this time becoming considerable, -and both of them felt that they would not be sorry to arrive at their -journey's end. Twenty minutes more brought them to the little piazza in -front of the church, and here Don Agostino paused. - -"I must say the mass at once," he said; "the people will have been -waiting half an hour or more. There," he added, "is the house. You can -go through the garden and wait for me if you do not care to assist at -the mass." - -Silvio, however, declared that he wished to be present, and Don Agostino -led the way into the church. Half a dozen peasant women and one or two -old men formed the congregation, and Silvio sat down on a bench near the -altar, while Don Agostino disappeared into the sacristy to vest himself. - -The mass did not take long, and at its conclusion Don Agostino beckoned -to his guest to follow him into the sacristy, whence a passage -communicated with the house. By this time Don Agostino was fairly -exhausted. He had eaten nothing since the evening before, and his long -walk and sad vigil through the night had left him weary both in body and -mind. His mass over, however, he was at liberty to eat and drink; and -the _caffe e latte_, fresh-laid eggs, and the rolls and butter his -housekeeper had prepared were most acceptable. Even Silvio, who had -already breakfasted on figs and bread, needed no pressing to breakfast a -second time. - -The food and rest quickly revived his host's strength, and very soon -Silvio could hardly believe that he was sitting at the table of a parish -priest in the Sabina. Don Agostino proved himself to be a courteous and -agreeable host. He talked with the easy assurance of one who was not -only a man of God, but also a man of the world. Silvio found himself -rapidly falling under the spell of an individuality which was evidently -strong and yet attractive. As he sat listening to his host's -conversation, he wondered ever more and more why such a man should have -been sent by the authorities of the Church to live, as he had himself -expressed it, among peasants and pigs in a Sabine town. He was scarcely -conscious that Don Agostino, while talking pleasantly on all sorts of -topics, had succeeded in quietly eliciting from him a considerable -amount of information concerning himself, his profession, and, indeed, -his personality generally. And yet, so it was. Monsignor Lelli had not -occupied an official position in the Vatican for some years without -learning the art of being able to extract more information than he gave. - -In this instance, however, Don Agostino's curiosity concerning his guest -was largely due to the favorable impression Silvio's good looks and -frank, straightforward manner had made upon him; as well as to the fact -that he was the son of a man for whose learning he had a deep -admiration, and with whom he had in former years been very intimate. - -The more he talked to Silvio, the more he felt his first impressions had -not been wrong. He would have liked very much to know, all the same, -why this handsome lad was wandering about the neighborhood of -Montefiano. He shrewdly suspected that a few birds and a possible hare -were not the true inducement; and that, unless he were hiding himself, -this young Rossano must have some other game in view. - -The expression which had passed over Silvio's face on hearing that he -was not acquainted with the owners of Montefiano had not escaped Don -Agostino's notice. He had observed, moreover, that his young guest more -than once brought the conversation round to Princess Montefiano, but -that he never alluded to her step-daughter. Monsignor Lelli had been -young himself--it seemed to him sometimes that this had happened not so -very long ago--and he had not always been a priest. As he talked to -Silvio Rossano, he thought of the days when he had been just such -another young fellow--strong, enthusiastic, and certainly not -ill-looking. Meeting the frank glance of Silvio's blue eyes, Don -Agostino did not believe that their owner was hiding from anything or -from anybody. He felt strangely drawn towards this chance acquaintance, -the only educated human being, the only individual of his own class in -life with whom he had interchanged a word for months--nay, for more, for -it was now more than two years since some private business had taken him -to Rome, where he had seen one or two of his old friends. - -Their light breakfast over, Silvio Rossano presently rose, and thanking -the priest for his hospitality, was about to depart. Don Agostino, -however, pressed him to remain. - -"I do not have so many visitors," he said, with a smile, "that I can -afford to lose one so quickly. You will give me great pleasure by -staying as long as you can. It is hot now for walking, and if you are -returning to Civitacastellana, you can do that just as well in the -evening. I have a suggestion to make to you," he added, "which is, that -we should smoke a cigar now, and afterwards I will have a room prepared -for you, and you can rest till _mezzogiorno_, when we will dine. When -one has walked since dawn, a little rest is good; and as for me, I have -been up all the night, so I have earned it." - -Silvio hesitated. "But I cannot inflict my company upon you for so -long," he said. "You have been already too hospitable to me, Don -Agostino." - -Don Agostino rose from the table, and, opening a drawer, produced some -cigars. "I assure you," he replied, "that it is I who will be your -debtor if you will remain. As I say, I seldom have a visitor, and it is -a great pleasure to me to have made your acquaintance. I think, -perhaps," he continued, looking at Silvio with a smile, "that it is an -acquaintance which will become a friendship." - -"I hope so, _monsignore_," replied Silvio, heartily, "and I accept your -invitation with pleasure." - -"That is well," returned Don Agostino; "but," he added, laughing, "at -Montefiano there are no _monsignori_. There is only the _parroco_--Don -Agostino." - - - - - *XVIII* - - -Don Agostino was quite right when he said that a little rest after -walking since daybreak would be a good thing. Silvio, at any rate, -found it so, for he very soon fell fast asleep in the room that had been -prepared for him--so fast, indeed, that even the church-bells ringing -_mezzogiorno_ did not awaken him. - -Don Agostino, fearing for the omelette his house-keeper had already -placed on the table as the first dish of the mid-day meal, had gone -up-stairs to rouse his guest, and, receiving no response to his knock, -had quietly entered the bedroom. - -Silvio was lying as he had flung himself on the bed, after having -divested himself of most of his clothes. He lay on his back, with one -arm under his head and the hand half-buried in the short, curly hair, in -face and form resembling some Greek statue of a sleeping god, his -well-made, graceful limbs relaxed, and his lips just parted in a slight -smile. - -Don Agostino stood and watched him for a moment or two. It seemed a -pity to rouse him--almost sacrilege to wake the statue into life. - -"It is the Hermes of the Vatican," he said to himself, smiling--"the -Hermes reposing after taking a message from the gods. Well, well, one -must be young to sleep like that! I would let him sleep on, but then -Ernana will say that the dinner is spoiled," and he laid his hand gently -on Silvio's arm. - -Apparently the sleeper was more sensitive to touch than to sound, for he -opened his eyes instantly, and then started up with a confused apology. - -"It is I who should apologize for waking you," said Don Agostino; "but -it is past twelve o'clock, and my housekeeper is a tyrant. She is -afraid her dishes will be spoiled!" - -Silvio sprang from the bed. "I will be ready in a few minutes," he -said; and before Don Agostino could beg him not to hurry himself, he had -filled a basin with cold water, into which he plunged his face as a -preliminary to further ablutions. - -In ten minutes he had rejoined Don Agostino in the little dining-room, -and the two sat down to the dinner which Ernana had produced, not -without some grumbling at the delay, which, she declared, had turned the -omelette into a piece of donkey's hide. - -Silvio did ample justice to her cookery, however, and indeed Don -Agostino's house-keeper looked with scarcely concealed admiration and -approval at him as she served the various dishes. She also wondered -what this _bel giovanotto_ was doing at Montefiano, and several times -came very near to asking him the question, being only restrained -therefrom by the thought that she would learn all she wanted to know -from Don Agostino so soon as the visitor should have departed. - -After dinner, Don Agostino produced a bottle of old wine--such wine as -seldom comes to the market in Italy, and which, could it only travel, -would put the best French vintages to shame. Ernana served the coffee -and then departed to her kitchen, and Don Agostino proceeded to prepare -cigars by duly roasting the ends in the flame of a candle before handing -one of them to his guest to smoke. - -"And so," he observed, presently, "you actually live in the Palazzo -Acorari at Rome. Your father, no doubt, knows the princess and Donna -Bianca?" - -Silvio shook his head. "No," he replied. "You must remember--" he -added, and then paused, abruptly. - -Don Agostino blew a ring of smoke into the air. - -"What must I remember?" he asked, smiling at Silvio's obvious -embarrassment. - -"You know my father's opinions," continued Silvio, "and perhaps you have -read some of his works. He is not--I speak with all respect--of the -_Neri_, and Princess Montefiano is, they say, a very good Catholic." - -Don Agostino laughed. "Ah, I forgot," he said. "No, I never looked -upon your father as a good Catholic. It really was never any business -of mine whether he was so or not. But the princess--yes, I believe she -is very strict in her opinions, and your father is, very naturally, not -beloved by the Vatican party." - -Silvio glanced at him. "You have read his books, Don Agostino?" he -asked. - -"Certainly I have read them--all of them." - -"And yet you continue to regard him as a friend?" - -Don Agostino smiled. "Why not?" he asked. "I do not always agree with -his conclusions on certain subjects. If I did, I should not wear this -dress; it would be to me as the shirt of Nessus. But is it necessary -always to agree with one's friends? I think the best friends and the -best lovers are those who know how to disagree. However, we were -talking of Princess Montefiano. I can quite understand that she would -not desire to be on friendly terms with Professor Rossano." - -"Or with any of his family," added Silvio, bluntly. - -Don Agostino gave him a scrutinizing glance. - -"Ah," he said, "you mean that she visits the sins of the father upon the -son." - -Silvio hesitated. There was something very sympathetic about this -priest--something that seemed to ask, almost to plead, for his trust and -confidence. And yet could he, knowing so little of him, dare to confide -to him why he was in the neighborhood of Montefiano? Certainly this Don -Agostino was a friend of his father, and, as such, might be disposed to -help him. Moreover, Silvio could not help seeing that his host was -disposed to like him for his own sake, and that for some reason or other -there was a current of sympathy between them, though as yet they were -almost strangers to each other. - -Perhaps Don Agostino observed his companion's hesitation, for he spoke -again, and this time it was to ask a question which did not tend to -diminish it. - -"I suppose," he said, "that you have seen Donna Bianca Acorari? I do -not ask you if you know her personally, after what you have just told -me; but no doubt, as you live under the same roof, so to speak, you know -her by sight?" - -Silvio felt the color rising in his face, and felt, too, that Don -Agostino's eyes were fixed upon him with a strange intensity. Could it -be, he wondered, that the priest suspected the truth, or had, perhaps, -been warned about him by the princess herself? The thought was a -disagreeable one, for it made him mistrust his host's good faith, as Don -Agostino had distinctly denied any acquaintance with Princess -Montefiano. The expression of Don Agostino's face puzzled him. It -spoke of pain, as well as of curiosity, and he seemed to be anxiously -hanging upon the answer to his question. That the priest should be -curious, Silvio could well understand, but there was no apparent reason -why Bianca Acorari's name should call forth that look of pain on his -countenance. - -"Yes," Silvio replied, guardedly. "I know Donna Bianca Acorari by -sight, extremely well." - -Don Agostino leaned forward in his chair. "Ah," he exclaimed, eagerly, -"you know her by sight! Tell me about her. I saw her once--once -only--and then she was quite a little child. It was in Rome--years ago. -She is, no doubt, grown into a beautiful girl by now." - -Silvio looked at him with surprise. The eagerness in his voice was -unmistakable, but there was the same strange expression of pain on his -face. - -"But surely," he replied, "your reverence must have seen her here at -Montefiano, or, at least, others must have seen her who could tell you -about her?" - -Don Agostino shook his head. "Nobody has seen her since her arrival -here," he said. "The castle is large, and the park behind it is very -extensive. There is no reason why its inmates should ever come into the -_paese_, and they never do come into it." - -"But the servants--the household?" - -"The servants were all brought from Rome. Most of the provisions also -are sent from Rome. There is practically no communication with the town -of Montefiano, and, except the _fattore_, I have heard of nobody who has -been admitted inside the castle walls since the princess and Donna -Bianca arrived." - -"It is very strange," said Silvio. - -"Yes," returned Don Agostino, "it is certainly strange. But," he added, -"you do not tell me of Donna Bianca--what she is like; whether she is -beautiful, as beautiful as--" he stopped abruptly and passed his hand -almost impatiently across his eyes, as though to shut out some vision. - -"Beautiful?" repeated Silvio, in a low voice. "I do not know--yes, I -suppose that she is beautiful--and--and-- But why do you ask me?" he -suddenly burst out, impetuously, and the hot color again mounted to his -cheeks and brow. - -Don Agostino suddenly turned and looked at him keenly. - -"Why should I not ask you?" he replied, quietly. "You have seen her," -he added, "and I--I am interested in her. Oh, not because she is the -Princess of Montefiano--that does not concern me at all--but--well, for -other reasons." - -Silvio was silent. Indeed, he did not know how to answer. What he had -just heard confirmed his suspicions that Bianca was practically isolated -from the world, as though she were within the walls of a convent. He -had asked in Montefiano about the castle and its inmates, and had -learned absolutely nothing, save what might be implied by the shrugging -of shoulders. - -Suddenly Don Agostino spoke again. - -"And you?" he said, laying his hand for a moment on Silvio's--"forgive -me if I am inquisitive--but you, also, are interested in Donna Bianca -Acorari--is it not true?" - -Silvio started. "I!" he exclaimed. - -Don Agostino smiled. His agitation seemed to have passed, and he looked -at the boy beside him searchingly, but very kindly. - -"If I am mistaken," he repeated, "you must forgive me; but if I am not, -I think that you will not regret telling me the truth." - -Silvio looked at him steadily. - -"It is true," he said, slowly, "that I am interested in Donna -Bianca--very much interested. You have been very good to me, Don -Agostino," he added, "and I will be quite open with you. I feel that -you will not betray a confidence, even though it may not be told you in -the confessional." - -Don Agostino made a slight gesture, whether of impatience Silvio could -not quite be sure. - -"A confidence between gentlemen," he said, "and, I hope, between -friends." - -"Then," returned Silvio, quietly, "I will confide to you that it is my -interest in Donna Bianca Acorari which brings me to Montefiano." - -"And she?" asked Don Agostino, quickly. "Is she--interested--in you, -Signor Rossano?" - -Silvio blushed. "Please," he said, "do not address me so formally. -Surely, as an old friend of my father, it is not necessary! Yes," he -added, simply, "we are going to marry each other." - -"_Diamine!_" ejaculated Don Agostino; and then he seemed to be studying -Silvio's face attentively. - -"But what made you suspect this?" asked Silvio, presently; "for it is -evident that you have suspected it." - -Don Agostino smiled. "I hardly know," he replied. "Your manner, -perhaps, when I mentioned Donna Bianca's name, coupled with the fact -that, though you asked me many questions about Montefiano and the -princess, you studiously avoided any allusion to her step-daughter. But -there was something besides this--some intuition that I cannot explain, -though I know the reason of it well enough. I am glad you have told me, -Silvio--I may call you Silvio, may I not? And now, as you have told me -so much, you will tell me all your story; and afterwards, perhaps, I -will explain to you why you will not regret having done so." - -In a very few words Silvio related all there was to tell. Don Agostino -listened attentively, and every now and then he sighed, and Silvio, -glancing at him, saw the pained look occasionally flit across his -countenance. - -"Of course," he said, as Silvio finished his story, "they have brought -the girl here to be out of your way, and they will keep her here. I -suspected something of the kind when I first heard that the princess was -coming to Montefiano. And when I saw you, an instinct seemed to tell me -that in some way you were connected with Bianca Acorari being here. -When you told me who you were, and that you lived in Palazzo Acorari, I -was certain, or nearly certain of it. You wonder why I am interested in -Donna Bianca, as I have only once seen her as a child, and why I should -wish to know what she is like now, do you not? Well, you have given me -your confidence, Silvio, and I will give you mine. Come with me into my -study," and Don Agostino led the way into a little room beyond the -dining-room, in which they were still sitting. - -Silvio followed him in silence, greatly wondering what link there could -be between Bianca and this newly found friend who had so unexpectedly -risen up at Montefiano, where a friend was so badly needed. - -Don Agostino went to the cabinet standing in the corner of his little -study, and, unlocking a drawer, took out the miniature, which he had not -again looked at since the day, now nearly two months ago, when he had -heard that the Princess Montefiano and her step-daughter were coming to -inhabit the castle. - -"I asked you to tell me what Donna Bianca Acorari is like now," he said, -quietly. "At least," he added, "you can tell me if there is a -resemblance between her and this miniature." And, opening the case, he -placed it in Silvio's hand. - -Silvio uttered an exclamation of astonishment as he looked at the -portrait. - -"But it is Bianca--Bianca herself!" he said, looking from the miniature -to Don Agostino in amazement. "The same hair, the same eyes and mouth, -the same coloring. It is Bianca Acorari." - -"No," interrupted Don Agostino, "she was Bianca Acorari afterwards. -Then, when the miniature was painted, she was Bianca Negroni." - -"I do not understand," muttered Silvio, in bewilderment. - -Don Agostino took the case from him. "She was Bianca Negroni then," he -repeated, in a low voice, as though speaking to himself. "She should -have been Bianca Lelli--my wife. We were engaged. Afterwards she was -called Bianca Acorari, Principessa di Montefiano." - -Silvio looked at him in silence. He understood now. - -"We were engaged," continued Don Agostino, "as you and her child are -engaged, without the consent of her family. They forced her to marry -Prince Montefiano. It was an unhappy marriage, as, perhaps, you have -heard." - -Then he turned away, and gently, reverently, as though replacing some -holy relic in its shrine, put the miniature back into the drawer of the -cabinet. - -"You can understand now," he said, quietly, "why I wished to know what -her child is like. As for you, Silvio--" he paused, and looked at -Silvio Rossano earnestly. "Well," he continued, "I have had one -intuition to-day which did not mislead me, and I think my second -intuition will prove equally true. I believe that you would make any -woman a good husband--that your character does not belie your face." - -Silvio looked at him with a quick smile. - -"I will make her a good husband," he said, simply. The words were few, -but they appealed to Don Agostino more than any lover's protestations -would have appealed to him. - -"And she?" asked Don Agostino, suddenly. "You are sure that she would -make you a good wife? If her nature is like her mother's she will be -faithful to you in her heart. I am sure of that. But she is her -father's daughter as well, and--well, he is dead, so I say no more. And -no doubt the knowledge that he had married a woman whose love was given -elsewhere accounted for much of his conduct after his marriage. We will -not speak of him, Silvio. But you are sure that you have chosen -wisely?" - -"Oh, very sure!" exclaimed Silvio. - -Don Agostino smiled--a somewhat pathetic smile. "I am very sure, also," -he said. "It is strange," he added, thoughtfully, "that your story -should be an exact repetition of my own. Almost one would think that -she"--and he glanced towards the cabinet--"had sent me here to -Montefiano to help her child; that everything during these years had -been foreordained. I wondered, when they sent me to Montefiano, whether -it were not for some purpose that would one day be made clear to me; for -at Montefiano her child was born, and at Montefiano she died, neglected, -and practically alone." - -Don Agostino sat down at his writing-table. He covered his eyes with -his hands for a moment or two, and above him the ivory Christ gleamed -white in the sunlight which filtered through the closed Venetian blinds. - -"It is strange--yes," said Silvio, in a low voice; "and I, too," he -added--"I have felt some power urging me to tell you my story, and my -true reason for being here. But," he continued, "our case--Bianca's and -mine--is different from yours in one particular, Don Agostino." - -Don Agostino looked up. "Yes," he replied; "Donna Bianca Acorari's -mother, though she had money, was not the heiress to estates and -titles." - -"I did not mean that," returned Silvio. "I forgot it," he added. "I am -always forgetting it. Perhaps you do not believe me, but when I do -remember it I wish that Bianca Acorari were penniless and not noble. -There would be nothing then to keep us apart. No; I mean that, in her -case, there can be no forcing of another marriage upon her, because I am -very sure that Bianca would never submit." - -Don Agostino glanced at him. "Are you so sure?" he asked. "That is -well. But, Silvio, we can hardly realize the pressure that may be -placed upon a young girl by her family." - -"She has no family," observed Silvio, tranquilly. "It is true," he -continued, "that there is her step-mother, who is her guardian until she -is of age. But Bianca is not a child, _reverendo_. She will not allow -herself to be coerced." - -Don Agostino looked at him for a moment and appeared to be considering -something in his mind. - -"How come you to know her character so well?" he asked, presently. "How -can you know it? You guess at it, that is all." - -Silvio shook his head. "Her character is written on her face," he said. -"Besides, when one loves, one knows those things." - -Don Agostino smiled. "Yes," he observed, "or one thinks one knows them, -which does quite as well, so long as one is never undeceived. So," he -continued, "you think that the girl has sufficient strength of will to -resist any pressure that might be brought to compel her to marry -somebody else. That is well; for, unless I am mistaken, she has been -brought to Montefiano for no other purpose than to be exposed to -pressure of the kind." - -Silvio started. "What do you mean?" he exclaimed. "I thought you said -you knew nothing of the princess and Donna Bianca--that nobody went -inside the castle. Do you mean to say that they are already trying to -coerce her in some way? But not by forcing her into another marriage. -Giacinta declares they do not want her to marry, and she knows." - -"Giacinta?" said Don Agostino, inquiringly. - -"My sister. Ah, I forgot; I have not spoken to you about her. She is -sure that a priest whom the princess confides in does not wish Bianca to -marry at all, for some reason--" - -"Yes," interrupted Don Agostino; "the Abbe Roux--a Belgian." - -"You know him?" asked Silvio, surprised. - -"Oh yes, I know him," replied Don Agostino, dryly. - -"Therefore," Silvio continued, "you see that I have not to fear anything -of that kind, as--as you had." - -Don Agostino was silent. - -Silvio looked at him inquiringly. "You think that I have?" he asked, -hastily. - -"It is possible," returned Don Agostino. "I do not know for certain. I -have no means of knowing for certain," he added, "but I hear -rumors--suppositions. Perhaps they are purely imaginary suppositions. -In a small place like Montefiano people like to gossip, especially about -what they do not understand. Apparently the princess and her daughter -are not alone in the castle. A brother of the princess, Baron d'Antin, -is staying with them, and also the Abbe Roux, who says mass in the -chapel every morning. So, you see, my services are not required." - -"Her brother!" said Silvio. "I did not know the Princess Montefiano had -a brother." - -Don Agostino nodded. "Yes," he returned, "and--well, it is precisely -about this brother that people talk." - -Silvio looked at him with amazement. - -"About him!" he exclaimed. "What could there be to say about him and -Bianca? It is too ridiculous--" - -Don Agostino interrupted him. "I should not call it ridiculous," he -said, "if the suppositions I have heard are true. I should rather call -it revolting." - -"But it would be an unheard-of thing--an impossibility!" said Silvio, -angrily, and his eyes flashed ominously. - -"No," Don Agostino observed, quietly, "it would be neither the one nor -the other, Silvio. Such alliances have been made before now--in Rome, -too. There is no consanguinity, you must remember. No dispensation -even would be required. But if it is true that such a crime is in -contemplation, the child must be saved from it--ah, yes, she must be -saved from it at all costs!" - -Silvio suddenly grasped the priest's hand. "You will help me to save -her, Don Agostino!" he exclaimed. "For her own sake and for her -mother's sake--who, as you said a few minutes ago, perhaps sent you here -to protect her--you will help me to save her!" - -Don Agostino, still holding Silvio's hand in his own, looked into his -eyes for a moment without speaking. - -"I have seen you to-day," he said, at length, "for the first time, but I -trust you for your father's sake and also for your own. Yes, I will -help you, if I can help you, to save Bianca Acorari from being -sacrificed, for the sake of her mother, _anima benedetta_. But we must -act prudently, and, first of all, I have a condition to make." - -"Make any condition you please," said Silvio, eagerly, "so long as you -do what I ask of you." - -"Is your father aware that you are here--I mean, that you are in the -neighborhood of Montefiano?" asked Don Agostino. - -Silvio shrugged his shoulders. "I cannot tell you," he replied. "My -sister, Giacinta, knows it, and she may have told him. My father, Don -Agostino, told me that he had done all he could in asking the consent of -the princess to an engagement between his son and her step-daughter, and -that, as this consent had been unconditionally refused, I must in future -manage my own affairs in my own way. This is what I am doing to the best -of my ability." - -Don Agostino smiled slightly. "I understand," he said. "Well, Silvio, -my condition is that I should see your father and discuss the matter -with him before doing anything here. He will give you a good character, -I have no doubt, and will assure me that you would make Bianca Acorari a -good husband. I owe it to--well, you know now to whom, to make this -condition." - -Silvio smiled. "Is that all, _reverendo_?" he asked. "It is a -condition very easily carried out," he added. - -"We will go to Rome, you and I, to-morrow," said Don Agostino, "and for -to-night you will stop with me here. In the evening, when it is cooler, -we will go to Civitacastellana, and we will bring your things back with -us. No; I am doing you no kindness--I am doing a kindness to myself. As -I told you before, it is not often that I have a friend to talk to at -Montefiano, and in this case, well--" - -Don Agostino did not complete his sentence. His gaze fixed itself upon -the cabinet before him, and Silvio understood all that he had left -unsaid. - - - - - *XIX* - - -Although Rome is supposed to be abandoned during the months of August -and September by all who can afford the time and the money to leave it, -there is always a certain number of people who from choice remain within -its walls throughout the summer, declaring, not without reason, that the -heat is felt far less in the vast, thick-walled palaces than in country -villas and jerry-built hotels. - -Among this number was the Senator Rossano. He had fitted up for himself -a library in Palazzo Acorari, a long, high room looking to the north, -which, if difficult to keep heated in winter, was always deliciously -cool even on the hottest of summer days. Here he did the greater part -of his writing, and passed the weeks when Rome is deserted, both -pleasantly and profitably. Usually he was quite alone during these -weeks, for Giacinta as a rule went with friends to one or another of the -summer resorts in the Apennines or the north of Italy, or perhaps -southward to the fresh sea-breezes of Sorrento. - -This year, however, she had delayed her _villeggiatura_ later than -usual, and was still in Rome. The professor was engaged upon a new -scientific work, dealing with no less complicated a theme than the moral -responsibility of criminals for the crimes they happened to have -committed. Giacinta had been busily engaged in making a clear copy of -her father's manuscript. The wealth of detail and example which the -professor had brought to bear in order to support certain of his -theories did not, it must be owned, always form suitable reading for -even the comparatively young, and certainly not for an unmarried woman -of Giacinta's age. - -But Professor Rossano did not trouble himself about such a trifle as -this. He regarded his illustrations as illustrations, mere accidents -necessary to his arguments; and it would never have entered into his -head that his daughter might not look at them from the same detached -point of view. As a matter of fact, Giacinta did so look at them; -consequently, no harm was done. - -She was sitting with her father in his library, engaged in sorting some -papers. It was nearly five o'clock and the great heat of the day was -nearly over; in another hour or so she would insist on dragging the -professor away from his work, and making him accompany her in a drive -outside one of the gates of the city. She was contemplating some -suggestion of the kind when her father suddenly looked up from his -writing. - -"I tell you what we will do this evening, Giacinta," he observed. "We -will go and dine at the Castello di Costantino. I have not been there -yet this summer. Perhaps we shall find some friends there. The -Countess Vitali--she often dines there at this time of year, and nobody -can be more amusing when she is in the vein. Her dry humor is most -refreshing; it is like something that has been sealed up in an Etruscan -tomb and suddenly brought to light with all the colors fresh upon it. -Yes, we will go to the Castello di Costantino, and you can tell the -servants we shall not eat here." - -Giacinta was more than ready to fall in with the idea. She was about to -ring the bell in order to tell the servants not to prepare dinner, when -the door opened and Silvio walked into the room. - -The professor gazed at him placidly. - -"I thought that you were at Terni," he said. - -"So I was," replied Silvio, smiling, "a fortnight ago. But I completed -my business there, and placed the order for the steel girders. Since -then I have been in the Sabina. I came from Montefiano this morning." - -Giacinta started. "From Montefiano?" she exclaimed. - -"From Montefiano--yes," repeated Silvio. "I have not been staying at -the castle there," he added, dryly. - -"You have been committing some folly, I suppose," remarked the -professor, "and I do not wish to hear about it. You will have the -goodness, Silvio, not to mention the subject." - -"I have been staying with a friend of yours, Babbo," Silvio replied, -laughing. "Don Agostino--" - -"Don Agostino?" repeated his father. "The devil take your Don Agostino! -I do not know whom you mean." - -"Monsignor Lelli, then," returned Silvio. "He has come to Rome with me, -and he is here--in the house. I left him in the drawing-room. I -suppose you will go there to see him; or shall I tell him that you hope -the devil may take him?" - -The professor burst out laughing. "Lelli! Here?" he exclaimed. -"Certainly I will go. I have not seen him for years. I remember now, -of course--they sent him to Montefiano--those _imbroglioni_ at the -Vatican! And so you have been staying with Lelli? Well, at least you -have been in good company. I hope he has succeeded in putting a little -common-sense into your head." - -He hurried out of the room to greet his old friend, leaving Silvio and -Giacinta alone together. - -"I suppose," said the latter, "that you have seen Donna Bianca -again--otherwise I cannot imagine what you have found to do at -Civitacastellana for nearly a fortnight? I am told there is nothing to -see there." - -"It is very picturesque," observed Silvio. "The river, and the -situation--" - -"No doubt; but I never supposed you went there to look at the river. -When I heard it was only four or five miles from Montefiano, then I -understood! But who is this Monsignor Lelli, Silvio? I think I have -heard Babbo tell some story about him, but I have forgotten what it -was." - -"He is the _parroco_ of Montefiano," replied Silvio, "and he used to be -at the Vatican some years ago. I do not know the story--he would not -tell it me; but Babbo knows it well, and we will ask him--the history of -his earlier life--that he did tell me. Imagine, Giacinta, he was -engaged to Bianca Acorari's mother. They forced her to marry the -Principe di Montefiano, and then he became a priest. But he never -ceased to love her, although he did become a priest; that I know." - -Giacinta looked at him. - -"And now?" she asked. - -"Now he has come to ask Babbo for my character," answered Silvio, -smiling. "If he gets a good one, he will help me to marry Bianca. Do -you know, Giacinta, that they want to marry her to a brother of the -princess--a Baron d'Antin? Did you ever hear of anything so outrageous? -As Don Agostino--he will not be called _monsignore_--says, such a thing -must be prevented, and, of course, I am the proper person to prevent -it." - -"Of course!" - -"You must admit that it is strange, Giacinta, that Don Agostino should -have been engaged to Bianca's mother--and her name was Bianca also--just -as I am engaged to the daughter, and that he should be at Montefiano. -It seems like a destiny. As for this Baron d'Antin--" - -"I have seen him several times," observed Giacinta. "He always stares -very hard. I asked the porter who he was. He is not so very old, -Silvio; he looks younger than the princess." - -"You had better marry him," returned Silvio; "then you will become my -step-aunt by marriage as well as being my sister." - -Giacinta laughed. "Don't talk nonsense," she said; "but tell me what -you and Monsignor Lelli propose to do. I never expected that you would -confide your love affairs to a priest. First of all a French governess, -and now a _monsignore_. You are certainly an original person, Silvio." - -"Ah, but Don Agostino is not like most priests--" - -"Because he has been in love himself?" interrupted Giacinta, laughing. - -"Oh, not at all! There would be nothing unusual in that," answered -Silvio, dryly. "Priests are no different from other people, I suppose, -although they may profess to be so. No; Don Agostino is not like the -majority of his brethren, because he has the honesty to be a man first -and a priest afterwards. He does not forget the priest, but one hears -and feels the man all the time he is talking to one. - -"As to what I am going to do, Giacinta," Silvio continued, tranquilly, -"I am going to marry Bianca Acorari, as I have told you before--" - -"Very often," added Giacinta. - -"But how I am going to do it, is certainly not quite clear at present. -I would have waited, and so would she; but how can we wait now that they -are trying to force her to marry this old baron in order to prevent her -from marrying me?" - -"It is very strange," said Giacinta, thoughtfully. "I certainly -believed they did not intend her to marry at all--at any rate, for some -years." - -"Ah, but that was before I appeared on the scene," observed Silvio. -"Now they are afraid of her marrying me, and so would marry her to -anybody who happened to be noble." - -Giacinta shook her head. "There is some other reason than that," she -replied. "The princess could find scores of husbands for the girl -without being obliged to fall back on her own brother, who must be -nearly thirty years older than Donna Bianca. A marriage between those -two would be a marriage only in name." - -Silvio stared at her. "What in the world do you mean, Giacinta?" he -exclaimed. - -"Oh," she returned, hurriedly, "I don't mean--well, what you think I -mean! I meant to say that, supposing Bianca Acorari were married to -this old baron, everything would go on as before in Casa Acorari. It -would be, so to speak, merely a family arrangement, which would, -perhaps, be very convenient." - -"_Perbacco_!" exclaimed Silvio, "but you have your head upon your -shoulders, Giacinta! I never thought of that. I thought it was simply a -scheme to marry Bianca as soon as possible, in order to get her away -from me. But very likely you are quite right. There is probably some -intrigue behind it all. We will hear what Don Agostino thinks of your -supposition--ah, here they come!" he broke off suddenly as his father -and Don Agostino entered the library together. - -Silvio made the priest acquainted with his sister, and then turned to -the professor. - -"I hope, Babbo," he said, "that you have given me a fairly good -character." - -"I have explained that you are as obstinate as a mule," replied his -father. - -Don Agostino laughed. "I have heard a few other things about you also," -he said, laying his hand on Silvio's shoulder. "After all," he added, -"they were only things I expected to hear, so I might quite as well have -stopped at Montefiano instead of coming to Rome--except for the pleasure -of seeing an old friend again." - -"Don Agostino will spend the evening with us," said Silvio to his -father, "and early to-morrow morning I am going back with him to -Montefiano." - -Giacinta looked somewhat perplexed. "Do you know," she said, "we had -settled to dine at the Castello di Costantino this evening? You see, -Silvio, I had no idea you were coming back, and still less that we -should have a visitor--" - -"But we will all go and dine at the Costantino," interposed the -professor, jovially. "Why not? We shall be a party of four--and four -is a very good number to sit at table, but not to drive in a _botte_--so -we will have two _botti_, and then nobody need sit on the back seat. -You will go with Silvio, Giacinta, and _monsignore_ and I will go -together." - -Don Agostino hesitated for a moment. "It is a place where one may meet -people," he said, "and nobody knows that I am in Rome--" - -"No, no," returned the professor, hastily, "you are not likely to meet -any one you know at the Costantino, unless it be Countess Locatelli--and -you certainly would not mind meeting her?" - -"On the contrary," said Don Agostino. "It is always a pleasure to meet -her--and to talk to her. Doubly so," he added, "after so long an exile -at Montefiano. I do not find the female society of Montefiano -very--what shall I say? sharpening to the intellect. My house-keeper is -occasionally amusing--but limited as to her subjects." - -Silvio and his father both laughed. "At any rate, she gives you a -better dinner than you will get to-night," said the former. - -A quarter of an hour's drive brought them to the Aventine, the most -unspoiled and picturesque of the seven hills of Rome, with its secluded -convent-gardens and ancient churches, its wealth of tradition and -legend. In no other quarter of Rome--not even in the Forum, nor among -the imperial ruins of the Palatine--does the spirit of the past seem to -accompany one's every step as on the almost deserted Aventine. -Especially as evening draws on, and the shadows begin to creep over the -vineyards and fruit-gardens beyond the city walls; as the scattered -ruins that have glowed rose-red in the rays of the setting sun now stand -out--purple masses against the green background of the _campagna_, and -Tiber reflects the orange and saffron tints of the sky, the dead present -seems to be enwrapped by the living past in these groves and gardens -hidden away on the Aventine and far removed from the turmoil and -vulgarity of modern Rome. - -In those years the so-called Castello di Costantino was not the -well-known resort that it has recently become. It was, indeed, little -more than a somewhat superior _trattoria_, where one ate a bad Roman -dinner and drank good Roman wine on a terrace commanding one of the most -picturesque, as it is assuredly one of the most interesting, views in -the world. In those days it was not the scene of pompous gatherings in -honor of foreign or home celebrities, followed by wearisome speeches -breathing mutual admiration in hackneyed phrases. A few artists, a few -secretaries of embassies left to conduct international affairs while -their chiefs were in cooler climates; a few ladies of the Roman world -who happened to be still left in the city, these, and a family party or -two of the Roman _mezzo-ceto_, were its occasional visitors in the hot -summer evenings when it is pleasant to get away from the baked pavements -and streets of the town, and to breathe the fresh, sweet air stealing in -from the open country and the sea. - -The terrace behind the restaurant was almost deserted, and Professor -Rossano selected a table at one corner of it, whence an uninterrupted -view could be obtained over a part of the city, and across the -_campagna_ to the Sabine mountains in the nearer background; while -between these and the Alban Hills the higher summits of the Leonessa -range glowed red against the far horizon as they caught the last rays of -the setting sun. - -Monsignor Lelli cast a rapid glance around him as he seated himself at -the little table, while the professor discussed the ordering of the -dinner with the waiter. There was nobody, however, who would be likely -to know him by sight, and comment on his presence in Rome in quarters -where he would prefer it to remain unknown. A few couples, already -half-way through their meal, or smoking their cigars over a measure of -white wine, were the only visitors to the Castello di Costantino that -evening besides Professor Rossano and his party, and these were -evidently students either of art or of love. - -"And so," observed Professor Rossano to his guest, as the waiter retired -with his order, "you have come to Rome to tell me that you mean to help -my son to make an idiot of himself. I suppose you are a little short of -something to occupy you at Montefiano?" - -Don Agostino laughed. "There was certainly more to occupy me when I -lived in Rome," he said, dryly. "As for helping Silvio to make an idiot -of himself, I am inclined to think he would make a worse idiot of -himself without my assistance." - -"_Grazie_, Don Agostino!" murmured Silvio, placidly. - -"I wonder when they will call you back?" the professor said; "not," he -added, with a quick movement of the head towards the Vatican, "as long -as--" - -"_Caro senatore!_" interrupted Don Agostino, deprecatingly. - -"Of course--of course!" returned Professor Rossano, hastily. "I forgot -your _soutane_--I always did, in the old days, if you recollect. We -will talk of something else. It is always like that--when a man insists -upon his right to use his own reason and to think for himself--" - -"I thought you proposed to talk of something else," suggested Giacinta, -mildly, to her father. - -Don Agostino looked at her and laughed. - -"He is the same as he was twenty years ago--our dear professor," he -said. - -"You are quite right, Giacinta," returned Professor Rossano. "When I -think of the intellects--God-given--that have been warped and crushed in -the name of God, it makes me fly into a rage. Yes, it is certainly -better to talk of something else. All the same, Monsignor Lelli -understands what I mean. If he did not, he would still be at the -Vatican, and not at Montefiano." - -"I am particularly glad that Don Agostino understands," interposed -Silvio. - -"You!" exclaimed the professor, witheringly. "I have told you more than -once that you are a pumpkin-head. A fine thing, truly, to make my old -friend Monsignor Lelli a confidant of your love affairs! Not but what -you appear to have confided them to him at a tolerably early stage. It -is usually at a later stage that a priest hears of a love affair--is it -not so, _caro monsignore_?" he added, with a twinkle of amusement in his -brown eyes. - -Don Agostino smiled. "Yes," he replied, "at a much later stage;" and -then he paused and glanced across the table at Giacinta. - -The professor saw the look and misinterpreted it. "Oh," he observed, -carelessly, "my daughter knows all about Silvio's folly. But I do not -wish to hear anything more about that. You have asked me certain -questions about Silvio, and I have answered them, and that is enough. -If you choose to help the boy in making an idiot of himself, my dear -friend, I suppose you must do so, but I do not wish to know anything of -the matter. There will be disturbances, and I am too busy for -disturbances. I am preparing my work on criminal responsibility. It -will be followed by another volume on responsibility in mental diseases. -By-the-way, if I had the time I would study Silvio's case. It might be -useful to me for my second volume. No; Giacinta and I are decidedly too -busy to be troubled with Silvio's love affairs. Giacinta, you must -know, acts as my secretary and copies out my manuscripts." - -Don Agostino raised his eyebrows slightly. - -"All of them?" he asked. - -"Certainly, all of them. Her handwriting is exceedingly clear, whereas -mine is frequently almost illegible. If it were not for Giacinta, I -should have to employ a typewriter." - -Don Agostino said nothing, but he glanced again at the girl, and -wondered how much she understood of the professor's physiological -arguments, and of the examples upon which many of them were based. The -few minutes' conversation he had had alone with Professor Rossano had -speedily convinced him that the professor was both proud and fond of his -son. He had given Silvio the character which Don Agostino, a practised -reader of countenances and the natures those countenances reflected, had -felt sure would be given. At the same time, the professor had expressed -his opinion of his son's passion for Donna Bianca Acorari in very -decided terms, and had upbraided his old friend for encouraging the boy -in his folly. Don Agostino had not explained his motives for espousing -Silvio's cause. He had learned all he wanted to know, and was satisfied -that he had gauged Silvio's nature and character correctly. He felt, -indeed, an unconquerable aversion from explaining the motives which -prompted him to interest himself in a love affair between two headstrong -young people. Everybody knew why he had left the Vatican; but very few -people knew why, some four-and-twenty years ago, a good-looking young -fellow, by name Agostino Lelli, became a priest. Most of us have an -inner recess in our hearts--unless we are of that fortunate number who -have no hearts--a recess which we shrink from unlocking as we would -shrink from desecrating a tomb over which we are ever laying fresh -flowers. Something which he could scarcely define had impelled Don -Agostino to allow Silvio Rossano to glance into his jealously guarded -shrine. He felt as though he had received some message from his beloved -dead that the boy had a right to do so. He was convinced, moreover, in -his own mind that the living spirit of the woman he had loved was urging -him to save her child from the unhappiness that had fallen upon herself. -Perhaps he had brooded too long and too deeply over the strange change -of coincidences which had brought him and Silvio together--at the -strange similarity between his own life's story and that of his old -friend Professor Rossano's son, between the dead Bianca, Princess of -Montefiano, and the child who bore her name and bodily likeness. In any -case, it seemed to Don Agostino as though he were living over again -those far-off years in Venice; as though he saw in Silvio Rossano his -own youth, with all its hopes and all its joys, and yet with the same -dark shadows--shadows that only youth itself had prevented him from -realizing--threatening to overwhelm and destroy both. - -"The boy is in earnest," he had said to Professor Rossano during their -conversation together before setting out for the Castello di Costantino. -"Cannot you see that he is in earnest?" - -He spoke almost angrily, the more so, perhaps, on account of that -strange feeling which never left him--the feeling that he was pleading -his own cause and that of his dead. - -"My dear friend," the professor had responded, with a slight shrug of -the shoulders, "when one is young and in love, one is always in -earnest--each time. Are you so old that you cannot remember? Ah, I -forgot, you had no experience of such things--at least, no official -experience." - -Don Agostino smiled. "No," he repeated, "no official experience." - -The professor glanced at him with a gleam of satirical amusement. He -fancied he had detected a note of irony in the other's voice, but in his -interpretation of it he was very wide of the mark. - -And Don Agostino had found that the result of his conversation with -Silvio's father was exactly what Silvio himself had foretold. The -professor had dismissed the whole affair with airy good-humor as a -_pazzia_, a folly in which he had so far participated as to have made -formal overtures on his son's behalf for Donna Bianca Acorari's hand, -and of which he did not wish to hear anything more. If Silvio thought -the girl would make him a good wife, then by all means let him marry -her, if he could. If he could not, there were plenty of other girls to -choose from, and any one of them who married Silvio would be a great -deal luckier than she most probably deserved to be. - -Don Agostino had very soon come to the conclusion that the professor -would place no serious obstacles in the way to hinder his son from -marrying Donna Bianca Acorari, should Silvio find means to accomplish -that object. During the remainder of their dinner at the Castello di -Costantino he threw himself, as it were, into Professor Rossano's humor, -and it soon became evident to Silvio and Giacinta that their father and -his guest were mutually enjoying one another's conversation. Giacinta, -indeed, was not a little astonished at hearing the professor discourse -so readily with a priest. But then, as she noted the facility with -which Monsignor Lelli met her father on his favorite ground, the -knowledge which he displayed of the scientific and political problems of -the day, the serene tolerance with which he would discuss questions -which she knew to be anathema to the ecclesiastical temperament, it was -at once revealed to her that this was no ordinary priest, whose mental -vision was limited by the outlook of the sacristy. The professor, as -the evening wore on, seemed to be in his element. From subject to -subject he flew with a rapidity which would have been bewildering had it -not been for the conciseness and pungency of the arguments he brought to -bear upon each of them. But Monsignor Lelli met him at every turn, -agreeing with him often, but often parrying his thrusts with rapier-like -stabs of keenest satire. The summer twilight was already fading into -dusk, and the moon was rising over the Aventine, casting long shadows -from the cypress-trees over the gardens and vineyards stretching away -beneath the terrace, and still the two continued their discussions. - -People seated at little tables near them ceased from laughing and -talking, and turned round to listen, for the waiters had whispered that -the _signore_ with the beard was the famous Senator Rossano, and that -the priest was without doubt a cardinal who had dressed as an ordinary -priest lest he should be compromised by being seen in public in such -company. - -Suddenly, in the midst of a more than usually brilliant sally, provoked -by some observation from his host, Monsignor Lelli stopped abruptly and -addressed an entirely irrelevant remark to Giacinta. Silvio, who -happened to be looking at him, saw his face change slightly as he looked -beyond the professor towards the door leading from the restaurant on to -the terrace. A small group of new arrivals was issuing from this door, -and its members began to make their way to a vacant table a short -distance from that occupied by the professor and his party. - -Giacinta also had caught sight of the new-comers. "Look, Silvio!" she -exclaimed, in a low tone; "look, father, there is Princess Montefiano's -brother, Monsieur d'Antin, with those people!" - -"Very well, Giacinta," returned the professor, vexed at the -interruption; "he can go to the devil! Go on with what you were -saying," he added to Don Agostino. "It was well put--very well put, -indeed--but I think that I have an argument--" - -"_Caro senatore_," observed Don Agostino, tranquilly, "are you aware -that it grows late? We can continue our discussion as we return to the -city. _Signorina_," he continued, turning to Giacinta, "you are sitting -with your back to the view. Is it not beautiful, with the moonlight -falling on those ruins?" - -He rose from his chair as he spoke, and motioned to Giacinta to -accompany him to the parapet of the terrace. - -"Bring your father away," he said to her, in a low voice, "and Silvio. -It is as well for us not to be seen together." - -"But Baron d'Antin does not know Silvio by sight," returned Giacinta, -"and I doubt if he knows either my father or me by sight. Do you know -him, _monsignore_?" she added. - -"I have never seen him," said Don Agostino, "and it is not of him I am -thinking--but of the other, the young man who is with him. No, do not -look round, _signorina_! At present I think that we are unobserved. It -will be more prudent for me to leave you without any further ceremony. -We can meet again outside the restaurant." - -"But who is he--that other one?" asked Giacinta, quickly. - -"A person I would rather not meet," replied Don Agostino--"at least," he -added, "I would rather not be seen by him under the present -circumstances, _signorina_. I beg of you to explain to your father that -he will find me waiting for him outside," and, turning from her, Don -Agostino walked rapidly towards the door, having satisfied himself that -the new-comers were occupied with the head-waiter in ordering their -dinner, and that he could probably leave the terrace unobserved by them. - - - - - *XX* - - -On emerging from the restaurant, the Rossanos found Don Agostino -awaiting them. - -"Giacinta told me I must pay the bill and come away," the professor said -to him. "For myself," he added, "I should have preferred to remain -another half-hour. That white wine is certainly good. May one ask, -_monsignore_, what made you leave us so suddenly? Did you discover a -cardinal of the holy office in disguise?" - -Don Agostino laughed. "Not quite a cardinal," he replied, "but somebody -very near to a cardinal." - -"Do you mean the man who was with Baron d'Antin--the young man?" asked -Silvio. - -"Precisely," returned Don Agostino. "He is not quite so young as he -looks, however," he continued. "In fact, he must be certainly ten or -twelve years older. Do you know him, Silvio?" - -"By sight, yes. I do not know who he is, but one sees him in the world -here in Rome--sometimes with English people--old ladies with odd things -on their heads, and their daughters who walk like _carabinieri_ pushing -their way through a crowd. _Diamine_, but how they walk, the English -girls! Everything moves at once--arms, shoulders, hips--everything! It -is certainly not graceful." - -"Never mind the English girls, Silvio, since you are not going to marry -one," interrupted Giacinta. "Who is Baron d'Antin's friend, -_monsignore_?" she added. - -Don Agostino hesitated. "His name is Peretti," he replied, "the -Commendatore Peretti. He is very intimate with the cardinal secretary -of state. Some people say that he supplies his eminence with useful -information which he acquires in the world outside the Vatican. He -gives Italian lessons, I am told, to Silvio's English ladies; also to -members of the embassies to the king." - -"A spy, in fact," observed Silvio. - -Don Agostino shrugged his shoulders. "_Mah!_" he ejaculated. "In any -case," he continued, "I did not particularly wish to be seen by him, for -it would at once be known at the Vatican that I had been in Rome in your -and your father's company, and--well, the less _quelli signori_ of the -Vatican interest themselves in your affairs, Silvio, the better for you. -For me it does not matter." - -"It seems to me that it has mattered very much," growled the professor. - -"And you think he did not see you?" said Silvio. "Ah, but you are -mistaken, Don Agostino. He did see you, and he pointed you out to Baron -d'Antin; and the baron saw me, too." - -Don Agostino looked at him quickly. - -"But you told me that Monsieur d'Antin did not know you by sight," he -exclaimed. - -"I thought he did not know me, because I did not know him by sight," -returned Silvio; "but I was mistaken," he added. "It is true that I -never saw Monsieur d'Antin before to-night, to my knowledge, but he has -seen me. I saw that he knew me by the expression in his eyes when he -looked at me, and I am quite sure that he whispered my name to his -friend--Peretti, is it?" - -"Ah!" said Don Agostino, "it is certainly unfortunate that they should -have seen us together. One never knows--" - -"They looked at me in such a way that for two _soldi_ I would have gone -up to them and asked what they wanted of me--and then there would have -been a row. Yes, Giacinta, for two _soldi_ I would have boxed both -their ears--a _soldo_ for each of them," and Silvio's eyes began to -flash ominously. - -"Less than a _soldo_," observed his father, quietly. "They have four -ears, Silvio. That would be at the rate of two _centesimi_ and a half -for each ear. All the same, I am glad you did not do it." - -"I thought he would have done it," said Giacinta, in an undertone to Don -Agostino, "but I made him come away at once." - -Don Agostino looked grave. "I do not understand," he said to Silvio. -"How could Monsieur d'Antin know you if you had never seen him before?" - -"_Che ne so io?_" answered Silvio, carelessly--"and what does it -matter?" he added, with a laugh. "He probably knows now that I should -like to break his head, just as I know that he would like to break -mine." - -"Not for anything that he would find inside it," interposed the -professor, dryly. "_Via_, Silvio, what is there to wonder at if Baron -d'Antin looks at you with some curiosity? He has probably heard his -sister speak of you as a lunatic!" - -Silvio and Don Agostino glanced at each other. The latter laid his hand -on Professor Rossano's arm. "_Caro senatore_," he said, "we shall do -well not to discuss these things here. Let us walk back to Palazzo -Acorari; or, still better, let us prolong our walk a little and go to -the Forum. I honestly admit that by daylight I detest the Forum--the -archaeologists have turned it into a hideous affair. But by moonlight -it is another matter. I think Domeneddio must have made the moonlight -in order to allow the Romans to forget for a few hours that -archaeologists exist." - -Professor Rossano laughed. "Let us go to the Forum, by all means," he -observed. "There will be no archaeologists at this hour. They will all -be calling one another idiots and impostors elsewhere--perhaps in the -_salon_ of the Countess Vitali." - -It was not to be supposed that the professor and Giacinta would walk -from the Castello di Costantino to the Foro Romano; although Don -Agostino, accustomed to long expeditions on foot in the Sabines, and -Silvio, who could walk the whole day provided that he were carrying a -gun, would have thought nothing of doing so. Professor Rossano however, -seldom used his legs if he could avail himself of any other means of -locomotion, and on the first opportunity he stopped a passing _botte_ -and directed the driver to set them down at the Colosseum. Guttural -shouts from a party of German tourists about to enter the building -caused the professor to turn away from it with an impatient shrug of the -shoulders. Much as he admired the scientific and philosophical -attainments of the Germans, in common with most Italians he disliked -them intensely as a nation. The offending Teutons disappeared into the -Colosseum as Professor Rossano and his companions walked slowly towards -the arch of Titus. The ruins in the Forum looked ghostly and unreal in -the moonlight. In front, the great square mass of the Capitol loomed -grimly, while from the dark, cypress-crowned Palatine on their left came -the mournful cries of owls flitting to and fro in the roofless halls of -the palace of the Caesars. - -"You are sure that Baron d'Antin recognized you?" Don Agostino asked of -Silvio, who had stopped to light a cigar, while his sister and the -professor walked on a little ahead of them. - -"As sure as I am that you were recognized by your little spy, Peretti," -Silvio replied. "What puzzles me," he added, "is how he could know me." - -"It is not very strange, considering that you live in Palazzo Acorari." - -"But I am sure that I have never seen him," insisted Silvio. "After -all," he continued, "it does not matter very much; and I do not suppose -it matters if Peretti recognized you." - -"Except that the accident of his having seen me in your company might -lead to my being moved from Montefiano to some other still more remote -place," said Don Agostino, quietly. - -Silvio looked blank. "Why should it do that?" he asked. - -Don Agostino smiled. "One never knows," he said. "The Princess -Montefiano has no doubt many friends at the Vatican. If it were -suggested to her that I was on friendly terms with you and your family, -she might very easily bring about my removal from Montefiano. I wish we -had not gone to the Costantino, Silvio. I have a presentiment that our -encounter with Monsieur d'Antin and that little busybody, Peretti, may -add to our difficulties." - -"At any rate," said Silvio, "we will return to Montefiano to-morrow, Don -Agostino, and I must find some means of communicating with Bianca. We -know now that Baron d'Antin is in Rome and not at Montefiano. -Probably," he added, "he has understood by this time that Bianca would -not be induced to listen to him." - -"If he has," observed Don Agostino, "the fact is not likely to make him -feel very friendly towards a more successful suitor. No, Silvio, be -guided by me; and do not do anything in a hurry. Remember that if it -were discovered that you are living with me at Montefiano, I should -certainly be removed from my duties there, of that I am quite sure; and -my removal would be a misfortune. Perhaps I can do more for you at -Montefiano than you can do for yourself--yet." - -"But if you never go to the castle," began Silvio. - -"I have never been as yet," returned Don Agostino, "but that does not -mean to say that I am never going there. Besides, sooner or later what -happens in the castle will be talked about in the _paese_. It is a mere -question of time. And what is talked about in the _paese_ sooner or -later is talked about to Ernana," he added, with a smile. "How, for -instance, do you suppose I knew that Monsieur d'Antin proposed to marry -Donna Bianca Acorari? I do not often listen to Ernana's gossip, for if -she were encouraged she would doubtless tell a great deal, and some of -it would probably be true--not much, but some of it." - -Silvio gave an impatient exclamation. - -"How can the princess tolerate the idea of such a marriage?" he burst -out, angrily. "I can understand her objecting to me--but surely it is -more natural that her step-daughter should marry a young man than that -old--" - -"Precisely!" interrupted Don Agostino. "You have exactly defined the -situation. I, too, understand the objection to you--from a worldly -point of view--as a husband for Donna Bianca Acorari. But you are not -the only young man in the world, my dear Silvio. There are many others, -possessing better social qualifications, from whom the princess could -select a husband for her step-daughter. It was assuredly not necessary -to fall back upon Baron d'Antin, even in order to get rid of you! No, -there must be some other reason for sacrificing the girl--for indeed I -call it a sacrifice. It seems to me, Silvio, that we should discover -that reason before you attempt to communicate again with Donna Bianca. -Until we know it, we are working in the dark. I have my suspicions what -the reasons may be; but they are at the best but vague suspicions, which -probably I have no right to entertain." - -Silvio looked at him keenly. - -"What are they?" he asked, briefly. - -Don Agostino hesitated. "I said that I had probably no right to -entertain them," he repeated. "I do not wish to wrong anybody, but it -has sometimes struck me that possibly there may be money -difficulties--that it would not be convenient to the administrators of -the Montefiano estates were Donna Bianca to marry a stranger." - -"Money difficulties!" repeated Silvio. "You mean that perhaps Bianca's -property has been interfered with--that she would not be as rich as she -was supposed to be when she comes of age? Is that what you mean, Don -Agostino?" - -"Partly--yes." - -Silvio's eyes gleamed blue in the moonlight. "_Magari!_" he exclaimed, -simply. - -Don Agostino looked at him for a moment, and then he smiled. - -"You would be glad?" he asked. - -"Of course I should be glad--I should be delighted," returned Silvio. -"If it were not for her money," he continued, "it would all have been so -simple--do you not see what I mean? Of course there are the titles--but -anybody can have titles. I know a cab-driver in Naples who is a -_marchese_, an absolutely genuine _marchese_, of Bourbon creation. But -the money makes it another affair altogether." - -"The money makes it another affair altogether," repeated Don Agostino; -"that is very true." He spoke more as though talking to himself than to -Silvio. - -"Perhaps," continued Silvio, "if the princess and her Belgian confessor -could be made to understand that I do not want Bianca's money--that I -have enough of my own both for her and for myself--they would not be so -anxious to marry her to that old baron. So you see, Don Agostino, my -reason for being glad if there has been some mismanagement of the -Montefiano properties." - -Don Agostino looked at him with a smile. - -"Yes, Silvio," he said, "I see your reason--it is one that I should have -expected from you. But it is not a good reason." - -Silvio glanced at him with surprise. - -"Not a good reason!" he repeated. "And why not? It seems to me to be a -very natural reason. I want Bianca Acorari herself. I do not want her -money, and I would not accept one of her titles." - -"It is a very natural reason, yes--for a _galantuomo_," returned Don -Agostino, "but it is not one that will appeal to those who are not -_galantuomini_. You must remember that dishonest people do not easily -credit others with honesty. In this case I cannot help suspecting--it -is a suspicion only--that Monsieur d'Antin has some hold over his -sister, and perhaps also over the Abbe Roux. Moreover, you must -recollect that Donna Bianca has evidently aroused--well, a certain -passion in him; and the passion of an elderly man for a young girl--" - -Silvio Rossano muttered something under his breath. It was not -complimentary to Baron d'Antin. - -"It is no use to fly into a rage--none at all," proceeded Don Agostino, -tranquilly. "We must look at things as they are, and human nature is a -complicated affair. What we have to do is to find out, so to speak, all -the cards that Monsieur d'Antin holds in his hand. I do not wish to be -uncharitable, but it is scarcely credible that the princess would -encourage, or even tolerate, her brother's aspirations, were he not able -to bring some more convincing argument to bear upon her and the Abbe -Roux than the mere fact that he had conceived a sudden passion for her -step-daughter." - -"Yes," said Silvio, thoughtfully; "I see what you mean. You are more -clever at reasoning than I am," he added. - -Don Agostino smiled. "I am considerably older than you are, _ragazzo -mio_," he replied; "and," he continued, "I am not in love with Bianca -Acorari, though her welfare is very dear to me, for--for her mother's -sake." He paused, and Silvio saw him make the sign of the cross almost -imperceptibly. - -"I think," Don Agostino continued, "that you would do well not to return -with me to Montefiano to-morrow. If Baron d'Antin knew that you were in -the neighborhood, and especially if he knew that you were in my -house--it would certainly not make things easier." - -Silvio's face fell. "But what am I to do?" he exclaimed. "I had -meant--" - -"Yes," interrupted Don Agostino, "let us hear what you had meant to do -at Montefiano--or rather, I will tell you. You had meant by some means -to obtain another interview with Donna Bianca--to persuade her to escape -with you, perhaps--and that I should marry you. In fact, you had a -whole romance in your head. Is it not true?" - -Silvio laughed. "Something of the sort, I admit," he answered. - -"Well," continued Don Agostino, decidedly, "it will not do; it will not -do at all. We are not characters in a novel, and we can afford to act -like ordinary human beings who are face to face with a difficulty, but -who are also not quite sure of their ground. In real life it is -wonderful how things settle themselves if we will only be patient and -allow them to do so. No; you are not the hero in a romance, and it is -not necessary for you to bring about a situation lest the public should -become tired of you. The situation will probably come of itself--_per -forza maggiore_." - -"And am I to sit down and do nothing, and leave the field clear for -Baron d'Antin?" asked Silvio. - -"For a short time--for a few days, perhaps--yes." - -"But you forget," Silvio interrupted, quickly. "Bianca is expecting to -hear from me in some way. I promised her I would communicate with her. -That is now nearly a month ago, and as yet I have been unable to send -her a single word, for a letter would certainly never reach her--that is -to say, until I can find some trustworthy person who would give it to -her." - -"Write your letter, and I will undertake that it reaches her," said Don -Agostino. - -"You!" exclaimed Silvio. - -"Yes; I will be your messenger. Yesterday I would not have undertaken -to help you so far. You can probably guess why, Silvio." - -"Because you were not sure of me--that I was worthy of your help?" - -"Oh, as to that, I was always sure from the first," said Don Agostino, -quietly. "I am very seldom mistaken in my first impressions of people -whom I care to study, and I studied you. But I was determined not to -act on my impressions until they should have been confirmed by your -father. I always told you as much, if you remember." - -"And now they are confirmed? I am glad," said Silvio, simply. - -Don Agostino smiled. "Amply," he replied, laying his hand -affectionately on Silvio's shoulder. "Be guided by me, _figlio mio_," -he continued. "Remain quietly here in Rome until I tell you to come to -Montefiano. In the mean time, I will do all I can for you. It may be -very little, or it may be more than you think; I cannot tell as yet. -Write your letter to-night, and I will take it with me to-morrow -morning. You quite understand, however, that it may be some days before -I have an opportunity of conveying it safely to its destination, so you -must not be impatient." - -"You will see that I shall be patient," said Silvio. "It was the -apparent impossibility of being able to communicate with Bianca that has -made me impatient. It was natural, for the weeks were passing, and -after what you told me about Baron d'Antin, I dared not leave Bianca -much longer without fulfilling my promise that she should hear from me. -However, now that I know that our affairs are in your hands, I will be -as patient as you please." - -"That is well," replied Don Agostino, briefly. "And, above all, -Silvio," he added, "do not confide in anybody. Do not move from Rome -until you receive a letter from me bidding you come to Montefiano, or to -some other place in its neighborhood that I will name in the letter. -_Dunque, siamo intesi_? Then let us catch up with the others. It is -growing late, and I must return to my hotel. You can bring me your -letter to-morrow morning. I shall leave Rome by the eight-o'clock -train, and it will be wiser for you to come only to the hotel, and not -accompany me to the railway station. The less we are seen together now -the better. It is a strange thing, but the accident of having met those -two individuals to-night has made me feel uncomfortable." - -"What harm can they do?" said Silvio, carelessly. "If Monsieur d'Antin -had seen us together at Montefiano, then he might well have been -suspicious; but here, in Rome, we are--" - -"In Rome," interrupted Don Agostino, dryly; and he said no more than -might be implied by a slight shrug of the shoulders and a quick gesture -with the hands. - -The professor and Giacinta had halted at this moment. By this time they -had reached the upper end of the Forum, and a few paces more would bring -them out into the Via S. Teodoro, close to the narrow flight of steps -leading up to the piazza of the Capitol. - -As soon as Don Agostino and Silvio joined them, Professor Rossano begged -the former to return with them to Palazzo Acorari, but Don Agostino -declined. It was time for him to go back to his hotel, he declared, and -Silvio, rightly guessing that he did not wish to run any risks of again -being seen with them, forebore from seconding his father's invitation. -After bidding the professor and Giacinta a cordial farewell, Don -Agostino stopped a passing cab, and directed the driver to the Albergo -Santa Chiara, a modest little hotel near the Minerva, largely frequented -by foreign priests and pilgrims. - -"I will be with you at seven o'clock to-morrow morning," said Silvio to -him as he got into the cab. Don Agostino nodded, and, raising his broad -beaver hat, drove away. - -"There," said the professor, jerking his head in the direction of the -disappearing _botte_, "is another of them." - -"Another of whom, Babbo?" asked Giacinta. - -"Why, another honest man, with a head upon his shoulders, too, whom -those priests across the Tiber have driven away!" replied Professor -Rossano, angrily. - -"Why did he leave the Vatican?" asked Silvio. "He would never tell me -his story at Montefiano, but always said that you would remember it well -enough." - -"Remember it? Of course I remember it!" returned the professor. "At -one time all Rome was talking of Monsignor Lelli. They declared at the -Vatican that he had speculated and lent money on bad security from the -funds intrusted to him; accused him, in short, of a carelessness almost -equivalent to fraud. But everybody knew that he had been forced to use -the money in the way it was used, and that he was afterwards disgraced -when things went contrary to expectations. _Che vuoi?_" - -Silvio said nothing. His thoughts were occupied with the letter he -would write to Bianca Acorari that night, and he wondered how Don -Agostino would find the means of giving it, or causing it to be safely -delivered. It was a disappointment to him not to return to Montefiano -on the morrow, but he could not but feel that Don Agostino was right in -advising him to remain quietly in Rome. It would certainly not help -matters were his only friend at Montefiano to be suddenly transferred to -some other post; and Silvio knew enough of his world fully to realize -how important a part intrigue and personal animosities played, not only -at the Vatican, but also in every phase of Roman life. - -The clocks were striking ten when they reached Palazzo Acorari, and -though nobody thinks of going home at ten o'clock on a summer night in -Rome, or anywhere else in Italy, Silvio Rossano accompanied his father -and sister up the dimly lighted staircase to their apartment. The -professor was anxious to continue the correction of his proofs, and -Silvio was longing to begin his letter to Bianca Acorari. - -Apparently, however, he had something else on his mind; for, after the -professor had retired to his library, he followed Giacinta into her -sitting-room, a little room opening off the drawing-room. Giacinta, who -was tired after her walk, took off her hat and the light wrap she was -wearing, and settled herself comfortably in an arm-chair; while Silvio, -after lighting a cigarette, began to pace somewhat restlessly up and -down the room. It was very evident that he had something to say, and -Giacinta, who knew her brother's moods, sat waiting for it in silence. - -"I am not going back to Montefiano with Don Agostino to-morrow," he -began, presently. - -"I did not know that you intended to do so," observed Giacinta. - -"Of course I intended to do so!" Silvio returned. "However," he -continued, "Don Agostino thinks it wiser that I should not return just -yet, and I believe he is right. He is going to take a letter from me to -Bianca." - -Giacinta glanced at him with a smile. "No doubt you think he is right -in that also," she observed. - -Silvio laughed. "How like you are to Babbo, sometimes!" he exclaimed. -"Yes, I think he is quite right. The only thing is, Giacinta--" and he -paused, hesitatingly. - -"That you would not know what to say in the letter?" - -"Ah, no! Well, perhaps I do not know what to say. If it amuses you to -think so, I am quite content. The question is, that I want to send -something to Bianca--something that I value. You understand? I have -given her nothing as yet--I have not even written to her. I want to -send her something--with my letter--something that belonged to our -mother. It is so easy to walk into a shop and buy a bit of jewelry, but -it is not the same thing--" - -"I understand," said Giacinta, quietly. - -"And so," continued Silvio, a little hurriedly, "I thought that if I -sent her one of our mother's rings--you have all her jewelry, Giacinta, -have you not? You could spare me one of the rings, perhaps?" - -"They are as much yours as mine," answered Giacinta. "Babbo gave the -jewelry into my charge; you know there are pearls and other things. -Wait, and I will bring you the case from my room, and then you can see -for yourself." - -She got up from her chair and went into the next room, returning -presently with an old case covered with faded red velvet and fastened -with heavy clasps of gilded metal. - -"Ecco!" she said, holding out to Silvio an elaborately ornamented key, -also heavily gilded. "You must turn it three times in the lock before -it will open the box. In the upper tray there are the rings, and below -are the pearls." - -"The pearls can remain where they are," observed Silvio. "You will want -them when you marry," he added, as he unlocked and opened the case. "I -will take this ring," he continued, pointing to an old "marquise" ring, -on which a sapphire was mounted in the centre of a cluster of white -Brazilian diamonds. "The rest you will keep, but this one I will send -to Bianca and tell her that it belonged to my mother. You do not mind, -Giacinta?" - -With a sudden movement Giacinta turned and kissed him. "Why should I -mind?" she exclaimed; "only--" - -"Only what?" asked Silvio, as she paused. - -"Only I wish you had sought for a wife elsewhere," she continued, -earnestly. "Those people--they will despise you, because they are noble -and we are not. You will never be allowed to marry Donna Bianca -Acorari, Silvio! Never, I tell you! That priest and Baron d'Antin, -they will never permit it. The girl will not be allowed to marry -anybody, unless it be Monsieur d'Antin. You will see." - -"_Sciocchezze!_" exclaimed Silvio, contemptuously. "What have I often -told you, Giacinta?" he continued. "Bianca and I can afford to wait -until she is her own mistress. If they were to attempt to force her to -marry Baron d'Antin or anybody else, then we would go away and get some -priest to marry us. The civil marriage could wait. I have told you so -a hundred times." - -Giacinta was silent for a moment. Then she said, suddenly: - -"I am glad you are not going back to Montefiano. It was wise of Don -Agostino, as you call him, to advise you to remain here." - -"Oh, but I shall go back there very soon," returned Silvio. "In a few -days Don Agostino will write to me to come. You see, Bianca must be -protected from that old baron. She will be glad to know that I am near -her, even if we cannot see each other." - -"Do not go, Silvio!" Giacinta exclaimed, almost passionately. "You will -be mad to go! Ah, but I saw Baron d'Antin's expression when he -recognized you! I could see that he recognized you--and you, you looked -at him as if you would have struck him." - -Silvio laughed. "And I could have struck him--very hard," he replied, -"for he stared at me in an insolent manner. Of course, I shall return -to Montefiano, Giacinta, whenever Don Agostino writes to me that I can -do so. I cannot imagine what you are afraid of." - -Giacinta smiled slightly. "After all," she said, "I hardly know myself! -But there is some mystery--something I do not understand. I am afraid -that it is money--that they want to keep Donna Bianca's money. Oh, not -the princess! She is only a fool. But these others, the Abbe Roux and -Monsieur d'Antin, they are not fools. And if it is money, and you stand -in their way--well, who knows what people will not do for money? They -might murder you at Montefiano, and who would be the wiser?" - -Silvio laughed again. "Scarcely, Giacinta _mia_," he replied. "If they -tried to put me out of the way, several people would be the wiser, and -some of them--Don Agostino, for instance--would make awkward inquiries. -_Via!_ we are not in the Middle Ages; and the son of the Senator Rossano -is not a completely obscure person who could be made away with with -impunity. I assure you that you need not be alarmed. Now I must go and -write my letter, for at seven o'clock to-morrow morning I have to be at -the Albergo Santa Chiara, for Don Agostino leaves Rome at eight. _Buona -notte_, Giacinta, _e buon riposo_, and do not get foolish ideas into -your head, or you will lie awake." - -And so saying, Silvio went off to his own room, taking with him the ring -he had selected from his mother's jewel-case. - - - - - *XXI* - - -Bianca was walking slowly up and down the terrace beneath the castle of -Montefiano. Every now and then she would pause and lean over the low -stone parapet, gazing thoughtfully into the deep ravine below, or across -the ridges of the Sabines to the towns and villages perched upon their -rocky eminences commanding the upper valley of the Tiber. It was late -in the afternoon, and cool enough upon the terrace, which was sheltered -from the westering sun by the shadow of the mass of building above it. - -More than a month had passed since she had been brought to Montefiano, -and no word had come to her from Silvio. That a letter should not have -reached her in the ordinary way, did not surprise her. She had very -rarely received a letter in her life, save, perhaps, some words of -greeting at Easter or at the New Year; and under the circumstances it -was not very likely that any missive could arrive for her by the post -without being intercepted and confiscated by those who were so evidently -determined to guard against any renewal of communication between her and -her lover. - -The days had passed slowly enough at Montefiano. The great suite of -rooms on the _piano nobile_ of the palace had been put into a certain -order, as the princess had directed; but the furniture sent from Palazzo -Acorari at Rome made a sorry show of comfort in the huge rooms of the -Montefiano fortress. Indeed, it was only the corners of the living-room -which could be made habitable--little oases, as it were, in a desert of -marble floors, of walls from which faded damask was hanging in tattered -strips, and upon which hung mirrors that had long ago ceased to reflect, -or such pictures as the late prince had left as not being worth the -trouble and expense of being moved to Rome to be sold to foreign -collectors. - -An indescribable atmosphere of dreariness seemed to pervade the interior -of Montefiano, that dreariness which is produced by the sense of -departed strength and grandeur. The apartments occupied by the princess -and Bianca were entirely on one floor. A large vestibule formed the -centre of the suite, approached by a double flight of stone steps -leading up from the quadrangle or inner court of the palace. On one side -of this hall were high double doors opening into an immense -drawing-room, and opposite to them similar doors led into a gallery, at -the farther extremity of which were two other sitting-rooms. Beyond -these, again, was the princess's bedroom, and a smaller room beyond it, -and at the end of the suite was Bianca's room, which could only be -reached by passing through her step-mother's sleeping apartment. There -were other rooms on the opposite side of the court-yard, which were -occupied by the Abbe Roux and Monsieur d'Antin; while the servants -inhabited a part of the house to get to which endless corridors and -unused chambers had to be traversed. If life at the Palazzo Acorari and -at the villa near Velletri had been quiet, it was amusing compared with -that led by the princess and her step-daughter at Montefiano. Even the -horses and the carriage had been left behind at Rome. Except a daily -walk about a few acres of brushwood and coppices behind the castle--an -enclosed piece of ground dignified by the name of a park, access to -which was only possible by descending a damp, moss-grown flight of steps -at the end of the terrace--Bianca never left the immediate precincts of -the old dwelling, half palace and half mediaeval fortress, of which she -was nominally the mistress. - -The Abbe Roux had been quite right when he had declared that no convent -could afford a more secure retreat from the world than the castle of -Montefiano. The little town, nestling beneath the grim, battlemented -walls and flanking round towers on the southern side of the building, -might have been a hundred miles away, for not a sound from it ever -penetrated to that part of the castle in which the princess and Bianca -lived, nor was so much as a roof-top visible. The cries of the -jackdaws, or the scream of a hawk during the daytime, or, after dusk, -the melancholy note of the little gray owls haunting the _macchia_, the -monotonous croaking of the frogs in a swampy piece of ground in its -recesses, were the only sounds audible, except that of the bell of -Cardinal Acorari's clock over the Renaissance facade, tolling the -passage of the hours and half-hours, as it had tolled them for over two -centuries. - -They had been some weeks at Montefiano, and the princess had never -spoken to Bianca on the subject of what she termed the imprudent attempt -of an adventurer to lead her into an entanglement in which she might -have seriously compromised herself. Perhaps Princess Montefiano had -never before felt how far removed from Bianca she was, how little -sympathy and confidence existed between her and her step-daughter, as -during the period immediately following the discovery of what, in her -conversations with the Abbe Roux and with her brother, she called -Bianca's indiscretion. She felt that she did not understand the girl; -and, more keenly than she had ever done before, she felt conscious that -Bianca regarded her as a foreigner. Had it been consistent with her -sense of duty, Princess Montefiano would very readily have relegated the -office of explaining to her step-daughter the gravity of her offence -against all the rules that should guide the conduct of a young girl, and -the utter impossibility of any alliance being tolerated between the -heiress and representative of Casa Acorari and the son of a professor, -however illustrious that professor might be. But to whom could she -relegate the task? Certainly not to the Abbe Roux, although the subject -was one in which fatherly advice from a priest would surely be better -than any advice, save that of a mother, and she was not the girl's -mother--all the difficulty lay in that point. But to expect Bianca to -open her heart to the Abbe Roux, or to tolerate any open interference -from him in her actions, was, as the princess had learned from -experience, an altogether hopeless idea. The situation was certainly -embarrassing, all the more so because Bianca shut herself up in an -impenetrable reserve. She had accepted the sudden move to Montefiano -without making any comment, or uttering any protest. Under any other -circumstances, Princess Montefiano would have attributed this attitude -to that apathy which she had until lately honestly believed to be one of -Bianca's characteristics. Unluckily, recent events had conclusively -proved this belief to be an illusion. As Monsieur d'Antin had pointed -out to his sister, in language admitting of no misconstruction, young -girls who were apathetic did not allow young men to make love to them in -a manner that had--well, certainly nothing of apathy about it. And the -princess had sighed and shaken her head. She felt herself to be out of -her depth. Her experiences of love had been limited to the short period -of married life passed with the Principe di Montefiano, experiences -which of necessity were very limited indeed. As was her invariable -practice when confronted by any difficulty, she had sought counsel of -the Abbe Roux, and the abbe had readily understood and sympathized with -her in her embarrassment. He could not offer to speak to Donna Bianca -and point out to her the grave dangers, both worldly and spiritual, to -which she had exposed herself, and the still greater unhappiness which -was certainly in store for her were she to continue in her present -unfortunate state of mind. Donna Bianca, he reminded the princess, had -shown too plainly her want of confidence in him, both as a priest and as -an individual, to allow of his making any attempt to force that -confidence. But there was another person to whom, perhaps, she would be -more communicative, and who might possibly succeed in distracting her -thoughts from their present object. Donna Bianca had, at all events, -shown symptoms of being more at her ease with Monsieur le Baron than she -had with himself, or even--madame must pardon his frankness--with her -step-mother. Why not, the Abbe Roux had concluded, refrain from pointing -out to Donna Bianca the impossibility of the situation into which she -had drifted until Monsieur d'Antin had endeavored to make her see -matters in a different light? It might well be, considering the obvious -sympathy which had existed between Monsieur le Baron and Donna Bianca, -that the former might succeed where he himself would certainly, and -Madame la Princesse possibly, fail. In the mean time, a rigorous -seclusion at Montefiano would not cease to be advisable. The very -dulness of this seclusion, the gradual certainty that no communication -with young Rossano would ever be permitted, would doubtless soon break -down Donna Bianca's obstinacy; while very probably the young man himself -would realize the hopelessness of his suit and turn his attentions -elsewhere. - -Princess Montefiano had not received this suggestion without -considerable misgivings. Her brother's interest in Bianca had certainly -not diminished since the day when she had discovered that the Abbe Roux -shared her suspicions that this interest was not altogether platonic. -She was in some ways a sensitive woman, always thinking what people -might or might not say of her and her actions. Ever since her marriage -to the late Prince Montefiano, she had been haunted by a nervous dread -lest she should be supposed to neglect his daughter; and though she -scarcely realized it herself, it had been this feeling, rather than any -affection for Bianca, that had made her almost timidly anxious not to -fail in anything which she might conceive to be her duty towards the -girl. Bianca, however, had realized when quite a child, with all that -quick intuition which children share with other animals, that however -kind her step-mother might be to her, it was a kindness certainly not -born of love. Strangely enough, it would never have entered Princess -Montefiano's head that her step-daughter was capable of detecting the -difference. Like many conscientious people, she was quite satisfied by -the constant reflection that she was doing her duty. That Bianca was -not equally satisfied with and duly appreciative of the fact, she had -long ago accustomed herself to attribute to the girl being possessed of -a cold and indifferent nature. - -After duly considering the abbe's advice, Princess Montefiano had -decided to act upon it. It was true that, should he be correct in his -calculations that a policy of seclusion and of a quiet but determined -ignoring of the pretensions of the Rossano family would result in -Bianca's submission, everything would be gained. At the same time, the -world would think it strange, and not altogether seemly, that the girl -should marry a man old enough to be her father, and who was also the -brother of her father's second wife. But, as the abbe had pointed out, -similar marriages, though possibly unusual, were not unheard of; and in -Rome there had certainly been instances in which they had turned out -satisfactorily to all parties. Moreover, even were the world to -criticise her for allowing Bianca to contract such an alliance, -criticism, as the Abbe Roux rightly insisted, would instantly cease were -it suspected that the affair had been arranged in order to prevent the -heiress of the Acorari from marrying a man who was not of her own social -condition, but who had presumed to ask for her hand. - -Altogether it had seemed better to the princess to take the unbiased -advice of a man of the world, who was at the same time a priest, and to -wait patiently to see whether Bianca would not in time come to her -senses, and be glad to accept the devotion of a man of her own order, -even if there was some disparity of age between him and her. - -Matters had not, however, gone quite so smoothly as Monsieur l'Abbe had -anticipated. For the first few days after his arrival at Montefiano it -had appeared as if Bianca rather welcomed Baron d'Antin's attentions to -her than otherwise. The princess even began to ask herself whether, -after all, the Abbe Roux had not been right when he had hinted that her -step-daughter's clandestine love-affair with a young man must not be -taken too seriously--that Donna Bianca was of a temperament which -demanded certain things--oh, but certain things that one husband could -supply as well as another. Princess Montefiano had felt somewhat -shocked at the idea. Nevertheless, when she observed that Bianca seemed -to take pleasure in her brother Philippe's society, and that she was -less silent and reserved when talking to him than she was at other -times, she wondered whether the Abbe Roux had not read the girl's nature -accurately, and she began to congratulate herself on having listened to -his advice. - -It was with not a little anxiety and disappointment, therefore, that -Princess Montefiano noticed a sudden but unmistakeable change in -Bianca's demeanor towards Monsieur d'Antin. Whereas she had always been -ready to talk to him, she now seemed anxious to avoid him. If he -addressed her at meals, she would answer in monosyllables, or perhaps -not at all. Her manner betrayed an uneasiness and suspicion whenever -she was in company, and at times would become almost sullen. If he -proposed to walk with her on the terrace, or in the park, instead of -consenting almost with alacrity, as she had usually done, she would -answer coldly that she was not going out. - -This state of things had lasted some days, and one evening at dinner -Monsieur d'Antin suddenly announced his intention of going to Rome the -following morning, as he had some business to do there. - -The princess, who happened to glance at Bianca, saw an expression of -intense relief pass over her countenance. The look surprised and then -shocked her. It was the look that some trapped animal might give when -just set at liberty. - -Nothing more was said at that moment, however, and very soon after -dinner Bianca went to her own room. The next morning Monsieur d'Antin -left early, in order to catch a train which would enable him to reach -Rome by twelve o'clock. - -At the mid-day breakfast Bianca and her step-mother were alone together, -for the Abbe Roux, as the princess explained, was occupied with the -_fattore_ on business. - -"It is very annoying," she observed, presently, to Bianca, when the -servants had brought in the coffee and left the room. "I have had to -discharge Fontana--the agent, you know." - -Bianca looked up from a fig she was peeling. "Ah," she said, quickly, -"what has he done?" - -"It is rather a case of what he has not done," replied Princess -Montefiano. "Monsieur l'Abbe," she continued, "has been occupying -himself with going about the estate since we have come here. He finds -everything in a very unsatisfactory condition, I am sorry to say. -Apparently the _fattore_, this Fontana, has resented any inquiries being -made into his management. Monsieur l'Abbe is quite sure Fontana has -ruled here too long, and that it will be better to make a change. He -knows of a man--" - -"Of course!" interposed Bianca, dryly. - -The princess glanced at her. "It is very fortunate for you," she -observed, "and for me, that we have a shrewd man of business like -Monsieur l'Abbe to advise us. That is what you will never understand, -Bianca." - -Bianca Acorari pushed her plate from her impatiently. "No," she said, -abruptly, "I shall never understand it. I think I should prefer priests -who were not shrewd men of business, and men of business who were not -priests." - -The princess sighed. "When you are older, _figlia mia_," she remarked, -"you will understand many things better than you do at present. I am -sorry that you are vexed about Fontana. I am annoyed also, for I do not -like turning off an old servant who has been here many years. But we, -Monsieur l'Abbe and I, have to think of your interests." - -Bianca raised her eyebrows. "Monsieur l'Abbe is, no doubt, very -disinterested," she observed; and then she relapsed into silence, idly -stirring her little cup of black coffee. Suddenly she rose from her -chair, and, crossing to the opposite side of the table, stood beside her -step-mother. - -"How long do you--you and Monsieur l'Abbe--propose to keep me imprisoned -here at Montefiano?" she asked, abruptly. - -The princess set down her coffee-cup hastily--so hastily, indeed, that -she spilled some of its contents. - -"Bianca!" she exclaimed. "What do you mean? Imprisonment? That is an -altogether absurd expression to use. You are here because--well, -because I think it for your good that you should be here; and you must -remember that, until you are of age, I am your guardian." - -"Until I am of age, or marry," interrupted Bianca. - -"You cannot marry without my consent before you are of age," the -princess returned, quickly. - -Bianca laughed--a hard little laugh. - -"Without your consent, and that of Monsieur l'Abbe Roux," she replied. -"Oh, but I understand that very well. It is the reason why I am here. -No? A proposal of marriage was made to you for me, and you--you and -Monsieur l'Abbe--refused your consent. Why?" - -Princess Montefiano gazed at her step-daughter with an amazement nearly -amounting to stupefaction. She had thought Bianca apathetic, perhaps -even sullen, and had believed that she would probably never speak of her -own accord about her love for Silvio Rossano. She had certainly not -calculated upon her suddenly assuming an aggressive attitude, and that -it was an aggressive attitude a glance at the girl's face, and the -quiet, determined tone of her voice, showed clearly enough. - -For a moment or two the princess remained silent, astonishment and -indignation striving for mastery in her mind. It was not long before -indignation triumphed. The absolute disregard which Bianca had shown -for all the convenances had been bad enough; the manner in which she had -allowed herself to become entangled in a love-affair, to have words of -love spoken to her--and more than words, if Philippe was to be -believed--by the son of an infidel professor, as though she had been -some girl of the _borghesia_, was a horrible and an unheard-of thing. -Nevertheless, nothing, at least in Princess Montefiano's eyes, was so -culpable as want of submission to authority. All that intolerance of -disobedience and defiance, which would have made the princess so -admirable a mother-superior, arose within her at Bianca's words. - -"I refused it--yes," she said, curtly. "We need not discuss the matter, -Bianca. I do not intend to reprove you for your want of confidence in -me, nor for your conduct. Your conscience should tell you how wrong, -how--I must use the term--immodest that conduct has been. Yes; the -proposal which the Professor Rossano had the insolence to make on behalf -of his son was refused by me, and that is enough. In the mean time, you -wish to know how long we remain here at Montefiano. The question is -easily answered. You will remain here as long as I consider it fit that -you should do so. You must learn to submit your will to those whom God -has placed in authority over you. I shall certainly not shrink from -doing what I know to be my duty towards you, although you have shown me -very plainly that it is likely to be a thankless task. You have never -given me your confidence, Bianca, never--not even when you were a -child." - -The defiant look on Bianca's face melted suddenly. - -"It was not my fault," she said, slowly; "at least, I do not think it -was my fault. I wanted to give it to you so often; but you did not love -me, even when I was a child. You did your duty by me, but duty is not -love; I understood that." - -The princess knitted her brows, as though she were considering the -point. - -"That is nonsense," she said, presently. "The duty of a parent to a -child, and of a child to a parent, is the same as love; and though I am -not your mother, I have always tried to behave towards you as though you -were my own child." - -Bianca did not answer, but a little smile stole over her face and played -about her lips. The hardness was all gone now, and there was only -tenderness in her expression. Perhaps she was thinking that within the -last few weeks she had learned the difference between love and duty. - -"No, Bianca," continued Princess Montefiano, "if you had wanted to give -me your confidence--if you had ever felt enough affection for me to make -you wish to give it me--there could be no reason why you should -persistently have withheld it. Nevertheless," she added, "your -ingratitude towards me will not deter me from doing my duty. You must be -protected against your own inexperience of the world, and against those -who would take advantage of that inexperience." - -Bianca looked at her almost wistfully. "You think me ungrateful," she -said. "I am not that. But to confide in you meant confiding in -Monsieur l'Abbe. He has always come between you and me--oh, ever since -I was a child." - -Princess Montefiano made a gesture of impatience. "If I have found -Monsieur l'Abbe worthy of my confidence and my esteem, it should be a -proof that he is also worthy of yours," she said. "You have a -rebellious nature, Bianca, and God will punish you for it, both in this -world and in the next." - -A quick gleam of amusement flashed from Bianca's eyes. "How do you -know?" she asked. - -The princess stared at her. Assuredly, she thought, Bianca became every -day more difficult to deal with. - -"As to Monsieur l'Abbe," she said, preferring to leave her -step-daughter's question unanswered, "your dislike to him is -unreasonable--it is unreasonable and wrong. Setting aside his devotion -to your worldly interests, which, when you are of an age to understand, -you will appreciate better than you are able to do now, you owe him -respect as a priest, the respect due to his sacred calling. I am deeply -grieved at your attitude towards him; but there again your rebellious -nature is at fault. As to saying that he comes between you and me, that -is absurd. What does come between us is your own self-will--your own -arrogance." - -Bianca looked at her step-mother steadily for a moment, and the hard -expression on her face returned. - -"_E sia!_" she replied. "Do not let us discuss Monsieur l'Abbe Roux; it -is a waste of time. As you say, when I am of an age to understand his -devotion to my worldly interests I shall be able to appreciate them. I -am sorry that Fontana is dismissed," she continued. "To be sure, I have -only seen him a few times, but he appears an honest man." - -The princess glanced at her, and her countenance displayed more -displeasure than ever. "These business matters need not concern you for -nearly three years to come," she said, coldly. "Your interests are in -my hands, Bianca, as you very well know. Luckily for you, you have no -voice in the management of your affairs. If you had, I fear you would -very soon fall a prey to some adventurer like this--" - -She stopped abruptly, a look on Bianca's face warning her that it would -be more prudent not to complete her sentence. Nevertheless, Princess -Montefiano was angry--seriously angry--and, though perhaps she scarcely -realized it, alarmed. Her authority was very dear to her, and she clung -to it more than she knew. She had always known there must come a time -when that authority must cease; but she had certainly no intention of -yielding it up before she was legally obliged to do so. Moreover, she -felt perfectly assured that she divined the motives which lay behind -Bianca's remark. Had she any doubts upon the point, they were speedily -removed by her step-daughter's next words. - -Whereas the princess was both angry and alarmed, Bianca Acorari showed -no symptoms of being either the one or the other. She raised her head -proudly, and a look came into her eyes that Princess Montefiano had seen -on other occasions--a quiet, resolute look, which had generally preluded -her own discomfiture when she had attempted to exercise her authority -over her step-daughter beyond its justifiable limits. - -"That is what I wanted to say to you," Bianca observed, calmly. "It is -much better that you should understand. In three years' time I shall -have the management of my own affairs. Well, three years is not a very -long time. We, Silvio and I, can afford to wait; and at the end of -three years, when I am of age, I shall marry him. But I will not marry -Monsieur d'Antin--my uncle." - -"Bianca!" exclaimed the princess, "you are either mad, or you are a -wicked girl! For the sake of a disgraceful passion for a man in an -inferior position of life to your own you rebel against those whom God -has placed in authority over you. Yes, it is quite true, my brother -loves you. I have suspected it for some time. And why should he not? -At least, in marrying him you would be marrying a man of your own order, -and not-- But what is the use of discussing the matter? You shall -never marry this young Rossano with my consent--never, never, I tell -you! and without my consent you cannot marry anybody." - -Bianca smiled. "Never is a long time," she observed, tranquilly; -"whereas, three years-- You quite understand," she added, after a -pause, "I will marry Silvio Rossano, or I will marry nobody. You have -chosen to refuse his offer, and you have a perfect right to do so. I, -too, shall have my rights some day. But in the mean time you will tell -my uncle that I do not wish for his society any more. I do not want his -love. It--it disgusts me. Besides, he has deceived me." - -The princess stared at her in dismay. - -"Deceived you?" she repeated. - -"He pretended to be my friend," answered Bianca, bitterly, "and, like an -imbecile, I confided in him. Who else was there for me to confide in? -He pretended to know Silvio, and that he would be able by degrees to -remove your objections to our marriage. Well, it was all a lie. At -first I did not understand; but now--" and Bianca gave a shudder which -told, better than any words could have done, all that was passing in her -mind of physical repulsion and disgust. - -Princess Montefiano looked, as indeed she felt, sorely perplexed. A -certain sense of justice made her sympathize with the girl. Although -love was to her an unknown and unexplored element in life, she could not -but recollect that when first she had suspected her brother's interest -in Bianca not to be of a purely Platonic nature, the idea had shocked -her as being almost an unnatural one. - -At the same time, the Abbe Roux had never ceased to remind her of the -gravity of the position in which Bianca had placed herself, of the -hopeless manner in which her step-daughter would be compromised in the -eyes of the world should it ever be known that she had formed an -attachment for a man in whose company she had been alone and -unprotected. By degrees Princess Montefiano had come to regard her -brother's passion for Bianca as a possible safeguard, not only against -the presumption of the Rossano family, but also against a scandal, for -which she herself would certainly be blamed by the world, as being the -result of a lack of proper supervision on her part towards her -step-daughter. Not once, but many times, had the Abbe Roux descanted -upon the generosity of Baron d'Antin in being ready to shield Bianca -from any troubles which her folly might bring upon her in the future. -Princess Montefiano had not stopped to reason that her brother's -generosity might be exaggerated by the priest, and that he would receive -a good return for it. There were certain things beyond her -comprehension, mentally as well as physically, and passion was one of -those things. People fell in love, of course; but, in Princess -Montefiano's eyes, falling in love was a mere accident, necessary to the -carrying-on of human society. She quite believed that she had loved the -late Principe di Montefiano, and that he had loved her; and, in itself, -this belief was harmless enough. The pity of it was that she was unable -to realize any variations in the human temperament, or to understand -that what had satisfied her, when at the mature age of five-and-thirty -or so she had married a man considerably older than his years, would not -be likely to satisfy Bianca. As to her brother's love for the girl, -after the first impression caused by its discovery had passed, Princess -Montefiano had been only too ready to accept the view of it that the -Abbe Roux had more than once delicately hinted to her--namely, that it -was a love similar to that of Bianca's father for herself--a placid, -protective love, altogether disinterested, and admirable both from a -worldly and a spiritual stand-point. - -It is possible that the late Principe di Montefiano's point of view -would have been different. But, fortunately, perhaps, for herself, -Mademoiselle Jeanne d'Antin had not made the acquaintance of her husband -until he had already, like King David and King Solomon, experienced -misgivings of a religious character, and hence the Abbe Roux's -_apologia_ for her brother's state of mind seemed to her to be perfectly -reasonable and satisfactory. - -So Bianca's abrupt pause and little shiver of disgust passed unobserved -by the princess. It was evident to her that the girl did not realize -the generosity of Philippe's affection. Bianca was, no doubt, -contrasting him with that insolent young Rossano, and the thought added -to her irritation and displeasure. - -"I do not think you understand, Bianca," she began, after hesitating for -a moment or two. - -"I assure you that I understand well--perfectly well," returned Bianca, -dryly. "I am not a child any longer: for the matter of that, I do not -recollect ever having been a child, and it is useless to treat me as -though I were one. You may keep me here at Montefiano three years, if -you wish. It will be the same thing in the end. But I will not be made -love to by my uncle." - -The princess rose from the table and began to walk rapidly up and down -the room. - -"Bianca," she cried, "your language is disgraceful, indelicate! -Besides," she added, weakly, "he is not your uncle. It is absurd, and, -as usual, you are ungrateful. He wished to save you from the -consequences of your conduct. Oh, you need not think that he has said -anything to me of his motives. He is too much of a gentleman to do so. -But he has confided them to Monsieur l'Abbe, and Monsieur l'Abbe has -been profoundly touched. A disinterested affection is not such an easy -thing to find, _figlia mia_," she added, more gently. "Take care that, -in despising it, you do not throw away a great blessing." - -Bianca did not reply. She seemed to be thinking over her step-mother's -last words. A note of kindness found an instant response in her. -Princess Montefiano noticed her hesitation, and decided that the moment -was opportune for pressing her point. It might quite well be, she -thought, that Bianca was really unconscious of the equivocal position in -which she might find herself placed before the world. - -"You see, Bianca," she continued, gravely, "a young girl cannot act as -you have done without laying herself open to very disagreeable things -being said of her. Do you suppose that any man would wish to marry you -were it to be known that--well, that any such episode as has occurred -had happened to you? Most decidedly he would not. Nevertheless, my -brother is ready to overlook what another would not overlook, on account -of the affection he entertains for you. He knows that you were not to -blame so much as that thoughtless young man who ventured to--to persuade -you to give him an interview." - -"He was not to blame," interrupted Bianca, quickly. "He would have gone -away if I had told him to do so, but I did not tell him." - -"It does not matter," continued the princess, hurriedly, anxious to -avoid a discussion on the subject at that particular moment. "You may -be sure that it was only an impudent attempt to compromise you. But the -world would never take that into consideration. With my brother, -however, it is different." - -Unluckily, Princess Montefiano had struck a wrong chord. - -"It was nothing of the sort," Bianca exclaimed, indignantly. "It is -perfectly true that we met, there in the ilex grove at the Villa -Acorari, and I suppose our meeting was seen, and that you were told of -it." - -"Of course," interrupted the princess. "My brother saw you. Did you -not know it was he who heard voices in the casino, and then saw you -and--and that young man emerge from it?" - -Bianca started violently. "Liar!" she exclaimed, under her breath. - -"It seems to me that it is a further proof of my brother's generosity," -continued Princess Montefiano. "Knowing all the circumstances, he has -from the first endeavored to shield you." - -Bianca laughed a quiet but not very pleasant laugh. - -"_Sicuro!_" she said. "It is a further proof of Monsieur d'Antin's -generosity. It appears that everybody at Montefiano is -disinterested--my uncle, Monsieur l'Abbe, everybody! But you will -explain to them that I need no sacrifices. Ah, it is of no use to -interrupt me now! I have learned all I wanted to know, and you--you -will learn something from me--something final, definite. It is this: I -will marry Silvio Rossano when I am Principessa di Montefiano and my own -mistress, and until that time I will wait, unless--" - -Princess Montefiano turned towards her, her face quivering with anger. - -"Unless--what?" she asked. - -"Unless he wishes me to marry him before," answered Bianca, quietly. - -"You will not dare--" - -Bianca laughed again, and threw her head up like a young horse. - -"Dare!" she said, scornfully. "When I have given my word, I do not -break it--and do you suppose that I shall break my word when I have -given my love? Ah, no, _per esempio_! I am not so vile as that." - -"Oh, but the girl is mad, possessed!" ejaculated Princess Montefiano. - -Bianca looked at her almost indifferently. - -"I think not!" she said, quietly--and then her eyes flashed with sudden -contempt, as she added: "And as for Monsieur d'Antin, you will tell him -from me that I have no need of the generosity of a coward and a liar." - -And turning on her heel, Bianca walked slowly from the room without -another word, leaving Princess Montefiano in a condition of speechless -astonishment and dismay. - - - - - *XXII* - - -After leaving her step-mother, Bianca went to her own room, where she -shut herself up in order to be able to think quietly. Although she felt -that she had been by no means the vanquished party in the unexpected -skirmish which had just taken place, she was far more ill at ease in her -own mind than she had allowed herself to show to the princess. Whatever -might be Bianca Acorari's faults, lack of courage, moral or physical, -was certainly not among them; and during the time she had been at -Montefiano, her courage and her pride combined had forbidden her to show -any external sign of the doubt and uncertainty ever increasing in her -heart as the days lengthened into weeks, and yet no word from Silvio -Rossano had reached her. - -That Silvio's father had written to her step-mother making a formal -proposal of marriage on his son's behalf, and that this proposal had -been indignantly rejected by the princess, Bianca was already well -aware. Monsieur d'Antin had informed her of the fact a very few days -after his arrival at Montefiano. It had been this information, indeed, -and the kindly and sympathetic manner of its conveyance, that had caused -Bianca to regard Monsieur d'Antin as the one person about her to whom -she might venture to confide her hopes and difficulties. It had not -been long, however, before vague and fleeting suspicions, which she had -at first dismissed from her mind as not only absurd, but almost wrong to -entertain, as to Monsieur d'Antin's motives for seeking her society, -developed into certainties, before which she had recoiled with fear and -disgust. Her instinct had very soon told her that there was more in her -uncle's--for she had begun to regard him in that relationship--manner -towards her than was justified by his professed compassion and sympathy. -Sometimes, when alone with her, he had made certain observations which, -although apparently in connection with her and Silvio's love for each -other, had offended her sense, if not of modesty, at least of propriety -and good taste. She could hardly explain to herself why they should -have done so, but she was conscious that they did do so. Sometimes, -too, she had surprised an expression on Monsieur d'Antin's countenance -as he looked at her which had made her shrink from him, as she might -have shrunk from some evil thing that meant to harm her. Her suspicions -once aroused, Bianca had been quick to perceive that the more she was -alone with Monsieur d'Antin, the more apt he became to assume a manner -towards her which caused her no little embarrassment as well as -distaste. The result had been an ever-growing feeling of distrust, -which soon made her regret bitterly that she had ever allowed herself to -talk to her uncle about Silvio, and latterly she had sought every -pretext to avoid being alone with him. Sometimes, too, she reproached -herself deeply for having disregarded her promise to Silvio that she -would confide in nobody until he had an opportunity of again -communicating with her. This promise, however, as she repeatedly told -herself, had been given when they had still a channel of communication -in the person of Mademoiselle Durand, and before she had become, to all -intents and purposes, a prisoner at Montefiano. But now Mademoiselle -Durand had utterly vanished from the scene--gone, as Monsieur d'Antin -informed her, to Paris with the wife and children of a secretary of the -French embassy in Rome, and Bianca had quickly realized that no -communication, direct or indirect, from her lover would be allowed to -reach her as long as she was within the walls of Montefiano. - -Monsieur d'Antin, moreover, had certainly played the opening moves of -his game very well, and a more experienced person than Bianca might have -been deceived by them. He had extracted her confidence by impressing -upon Bianca that he, and he alone, could by degrees overcome the -objections that his sister entertained to an alliance with the Rossano -family. He had explained to her how these objections came in reality -much more from the Abbe Roux than from the princess, and that the latter -would infallibly relent if the abbe's good-will could be secured. It had -been Monsieur d'Antin, too, who had warned Bianca that her step-mother -had decided, always by the Abbe Roux's advice, absolutely to ignore, at -any rate for the present, the fact of her having met Silvio and allowed -him to propose to her. He had carefully impressed upon her that any -attempt on her part to overcome the princess's objections, any allusion, -indeed, to the subject, would only result in failure; and that Bianca's -best plan, in her own and her lover's interests, would be to maintain an -absolute silence, except, of course, to himself. No questions, he told -her, would be asked her by her step-mother, and no lectures on her -conduct given to her. Therefore, there would be no need for her to give -her confidence in a quarter where it was not demanded, and where the -giving of it could only prejudice her cause. And everything had -happened as Monsieur d'Antin had foretold. The princess had not made -the slightest allusion to her step-daughter regarding the meeting in the -grounds of the Villa Acorari, and, save for the sense of being -continually guarded and watched, Bianca could not truthfully say to -herself that her life at Montefiano differed in any particular degree -from the life she had been accustomed from childhood to lead. - -At first, when Bianca had finally decided to yield to her uncle's -suggestions and confide in him, she had more than once asked him to -assist her in sending or in receiving some communication from Silvio. -But Monsieur d'Antin had always declared this to be impossible. He had -explained plausibly enough that if his sister and the Abbe Roux were -once to suspect him of such a course, all the influence he might be able -to use with them in order to overcome their objections would be -hopelessly destroyed. Moreover, his sister would certainly ask him to -leave Montefiano, and then Bianca would be left without her only friend -and sympathizer. - -And so long as Monsieur d'Antin, counselling patience, had himself been -patient, matters had progressed fairly well for the furtherance of the -object he and the Abbe Roux had in view. Bianca was, if not easy in her -mind, at least satisfied that there was no other course open to her but -to keep silence and wait for her uncle's influence to do its work. - -But Monsieur d'Antin had not had patience. The success attending his -first efforts to gain Bianca's confidence had been his undoing. The -constant companionship of the young girl, whose very youth and -inexperience had kindled afresh his well-worn passions, had brought -about its almost inevitable psychological result. Monsieur d'Antin -began to lose his head, and to be unable, or at any rate unwilling, to -place the restraint upon himself that a younger man would probably have -done. He believed that Bianca would certainly in the end be compelled -by force of circumstances to see that a marriage with Silvio Rossano was -impossible for the heiress of the Acorari. It was true that she might -come to realize this, and yet make up her mind to marry some other young -man who might present himself--some flaccid, Roman youth with empty -pockets, but the possessor of a spurious title which would render him, -in the eyes of the little, but strangely snobbish Roman world, an -eligible husband for Donna Bianca Acorari. But Baron d'Antin felt -comfortably convinced that even should this contingency arise, he still -held in his hand the trump-card which would win him the game. If such a -young man were to present himself--well, a few words spoken in a few -Roman drawing-rooms, a hint or two dropped at the clubs of what had -recently occurred at the Villa Acorari, a suggestion that the Princess -Montefiano was anxious to marry her step-daughter in order to prevent -her making a _mesalliance_ in a quarter in which she had already -compromised herself--and the young man's family would at once break off -negotiations. - -But there had come a day when Monsieur d'Antin, in the course of a walk -with Bianca in the parco at Montefiano, had allowed his passion -momentarily to get the better of him, and in that moment Bianca had -understood all. She had entertained no suspicions since that -instant--only the certainty that she was the object of Monsieur -d'Antin's desires. Indignation rather than fear, or even aversion, had -been her first sensation--indignation at the cowardice of this elderly -hypocrite who had tricked her into giving him her confidence. Monsieur -d'Antin probably never knew how near he had been to receiving a blow in -the face from Bianca's clinched fist, as, with a few scathing words of -anger and disgust, she had left him and almost run back to the terrace, -where Princess Montefiano was sitting reading in the shade under the -castle. - -Nor had this episode been all that had occurred during the last few days -to confirm Bianca Acorari's suspicions and make her doubly uneasy in her -mind. - -It so happened that, while wandering through some of the disused -apartments of the castle, in the wing opposite to that occupied by the -princess and herself, she had overheard a portion of a conversation -between domestics, certainly not intended for her ears. Her attention -was arrested by the mention of her own name in a loud and rather excited -female voice; and approaching nearer to the room whence the voices -proceeded, she saw her own maid, Bettina, and a girl whom she recognized -as the _fattore_ Fontana's daughter, engaged in mending some linen. -They were also, apparently, occupied in a discussion of which she -herself was the object, and the agent's daughter appeared to be taking -her part with some vigor. - -"It was a shame," Bianca heard the girl exclaim, "that the -_principessina_ should be forced to marry an old man like the baron, -when there was a _bel giovanotto_ who loved her and whom she loved. For -her part, if she were the Principessina Bianca she would box the baron's -ears--_uno, due_--so! and marry the lad she loved. What was the use of -being a princess if one could not do as one chose?" - -Then had followed some words in a lower tone from Bettina, the sense of -which Bianca could not catch, but which appeared to have the effect of -still further arousing Concetta Fontana's indignation. - -"Ah, the poor girl!" Bianca heard her reply. "They shut her up here in -this dreary place, and they will keep her here until she lets that old -he-goat have his own way. And the priest is at the bottom of it--oh, -certainly, the priest is at the bottom of it! It is useless to tell me. -I have heard him and the Signor Barone talking together--and I know. If -one could ever approach the _principessina_ to get a word with her, I -would warn her that it is a trap they are laying for her--just as though -she were a bird, the poor child!" - -Bianca Acorari turned away, sick at heart. The servants, then, and the -people about Montefiano, knew for a fact what she had never even -suspected. She had regarded Monsieur d'Antin's attempt to make love to -her as odious and cowardly, and also, perhaps, as ludicrous--but she had -not until then suspected that others were aware of his passion for her, -and still less that her having been brought to Montefiano was part of a -deliberately laid plan to force her to yield to that passion. - -Concetta Fontana's words seemed suddenly to make everything clear to -her, and to reveal Monsieur d'Antin's treachery in its full light. She -understood now, or she thought that she understood. She had been -purposely allowed to confide in her uncle, purposely thrown in his -company, in the hope that she might in time consent to relinquish her -love for Silvio as a thing out of the question. - -And her step-mother? Of course her step-mother would do what the Abbe -Roux counselled. She had always done so ever since Bianca could -remember, and she always would do so. What the priest's motives might -be for desiring that she should marry Baron d'Antin, Bianca did not stop -to consider. Monsieur l'Abbe had always tried to interfere in her life; -and the fact that he knew she wished to marry Silvio Rossano was quite -sufficient to account for his determination to marry her to somebody -else. - -Well, they should see that she, Bianca Acorari, was not to be forced to -marry anybody against her will. She was not a foreigner, not a Belgian, -thank Heaven--but an Italian--a Roman, the head of an ancient Roman -house. And so her pride came to her rescue, as, indeed, it had often -done before. And with it had come the courage to face her new -difficulties. She could give her step-mother plainly to understand that -she knew what steps had been taken and what plans had been made to -compel her to abandon all idea of marrying the man she intended to -marry. After that, the abbe and Monsieur d'Antin might do their worst. -She had only to be firm and patient for three years, and then they could -have no more power to interfere with her. - -It had been a certain comfort to her to discover that there was one -person at Montefiano, however humbly placed, who was her friend. -Bettina, she knew well, had an eye only to her own interests, and would -not hesitate to betray any confidences Bianca might be tempted to make -to her, were she to consider it to her advantage to do so. She had -several times noticed Concetta Fontana since her arrival at Montefiano, -and had been struck by the honest and straightforward bearing both of -the girl and of her father. Fontana himself, indeed, had been very -marked in the deference and attention he paid to his young mistress. As -a matter of fact, he regarded both the princess and Monsieur d'Antin in -the light of foreign intruders, while for the Abbe Roux he felt nothing -but the suspicion and dislike with which priests, as a general rule, Don -Agostino always excepted, inspired him. The Principessina Bianca, on -the contrary, he regarded as his liege lady, the daughter and -representative of the princes of Montefiano whom he and his forefathers -had served for several generations in one capacity or another. - -Bianca Acorari could not have explained why the thought that the agent's -daughter took a friendly interest in her was a consolation, but it -certainly was so. She had scarcely spoken to the girl beyond wishing -her "Good-morning" or "Good-evening" if they met in the passages or the -courtyard of the castle. - -As she sat alone in her room after the stormy scene with her -step-mother, Bianca thought long and calmly over the situation in which -that scene must inevitably have placed her. On the whole, she felt -rather relieved than otherwise that it had taken place. The keeping up -for so many weeks of a pretence that there was nothing unusual in the -position between the princess and herself had become more than irksome; -and Bianca would certainly not have submitted to Silvio's proposal being -passed over in silence by her step-mother, had it not been for Monsieur -d'Antin's assurances that nothing but harm would result were she to -insist on discussing it. - -Her amazement and indignation had been great, however, at hearing from -her that it had been no other than Monsieur d'Antin himself who had been -a witness to her interview with Silvio in the ilex grove of the Villa -Acorari. She had always concluded that one of the servants of the place -had been her step-mother's informant, and Monsieur d'Antin had never -said anything to lead her to suppose the contrary. It was, of course, -but another instance of his treachery and double-dealing towards her; -but all the same, Bianca was glad to know the truth. She could -understand the course of events more clearly now, and the last -discovery, immediately following the remarks she had overheard from -Concetta Fontana, pointed without doubt to the existence of some -intrigue between her uncle and the Abbe Roux of which she was to be the -victim. It was certainly as well that she had that day spoken plainly -to her step-mother. In a day or two Monsieur d'Antin would return from -Rome, and then she supposed there would be war to the knife. - -Well, they should see that she would not give way--not one centimetre. -Better to have open war to the knife than to continue to be surrounded -by an atmosphere of intrigue and deception. - -Ah, but if she could only have one line from Silvio, one word to assure -her that he was faithful to her as she was to him! She could afford to -wait patiently then--to wait, if need be, till three years were over and -she was accountable to nobody for her actions. She could not doubt -Silvio--not for one moment; but it was strange that he had not as yet -discovered some means of communicating with her. Sometimes a deadly -fear struck her that he had believed her step-mother's rejection of his -offer to have been written with her knowledge and consent. It was more -than likely that an attempt would have been made to induce him to -believe this. But she put the thought away from her persistently. -Silvio and she had known from the first that his offer would be -declined--it had only been made, indeed, as a formality, and as being in -accordance with the usages of society. - -Nevertheless, she longed for some message, some word to comfort her and -give her courage to face the weary months in front of her. Surely he -would find some means of sending her this word! It seemed so long ago -since his arms were round her and his lips lay upon hers--so long ago -and yet she felt their pressure still. What had he said to her "I will -marry no woman if I do not marry you." Ah, but she was sure of -that--very sure. And so it was ridiculous to be afraid--cowardly to be -afraid and not to trust in his word, that as soon as he could possibly -do so with the certainty that his message would reach her, he would -communicate with her as to what their next step should be. - - - - - *XXIII* - - -Don Agostino was sitting in his study the evening after his return to -Montefiano from Rome. His housekeeper, Ernana, had waited upon him -during his supper, and in the interval of carrying in the dishes from -the kitchen had entertained him with all that had occurred in the -_paese_ during his absence. Not very much had occurred; but then -occurrences of any import at Montefiano were apt to be few and far -between. The wife of the baker who supplied the house with bread had -had a baby; and Ernana, counting up upon her fingers the number of -months that had elapsed since the baker's marriage, could only get as -far as the little finger of one hand, and shook her head accordingly. -There had been a dispute in the _osteria_ kept by Stefano Mazza, and -Stefano's son, while attempting to put an end to it, had been stabbed. -But it was _una cosa di niente_; and it served Stefano's son right, and -would teach him that no good ever came of trying to interfere in other -folks' quarrels. Nothing else had happened--at any rate, nothing that -had reached Ernana's ears. But it certainly was very unfortunate about -the baby, and a great pity that the baker had delayed his marriage so -long; though, after all, he might have delayed it altogether, which -would have been worse. - -Don Agostino listened in silence as he ate his _frittura_ and salad. He -rather agreed with Ernana as to the futility in this world of trying to -play the part of a peacemaker, however advantageous having done so might -prove to be in the world to come. As to the baby, he had heard about it -before, at a very early stage of its creation; and he had nothing -further to say regarding it than he had already had occasion to whisper -from behind the grille of his confessional. - -His supper over, and Ernana having retired into the kitchen to wash up, -Don Agostino had betaken himself to his favorite arm-chair in his study, -after carefully roasting the end of a Virginia cigar in the flame of a -candle on his writing-table, and ascertaining that it drew -satisfactorily. On that same writing-table lay the little packet -containing the ring and letter which Silvio had intrusted to him, and -which he had undertaken should, by one means or another, be conveyed -safely into Bianca Acorari's own hands. - -Don Agostino glanced at the packet more than once as he sat and smoked -his cigar. A work by Professor Rossano was lying on his lap. He had -taken the volume from his bookshelves in order to refresh his memory as -to certain arguments propounded in it which had especially roused the -indignation of the Sacred Congregation of the Index, some months after -the work had appeared. As a matter of fact, however, he was thinking -far more of how he should fulfil his promise to Professor Rossano's son, -than of the learned senator's unorthodox propositions in print. - -The more he thought over the strange combination of circumstances which -had led him to interest himself in Silvio's case, the more he became -convinced that he had been called upon to save the only child of the -woman he had loved from unhappiness, and perhaps from worse. It was -scarcely conceivable, he argued to himself, that the similarity between -his own youthful love affair and that of Silvio should be a mere -coincidence. Indeed, he had long ago rejected the idea as impossible, -and to one of his nature, partly philosophical but also largely -mystical, there was nothing incongruous or improbable in the thought -that his departed love remembered his devotion to her, and was calling -upon him from her place in the world beyond the veil to shield her child -from evil, and bidding him labor to procure her the happiness which had -been denied to her mother. - -And Don Agostino did not doubt that a woman who loved Silvio Rossano, -and could call him her husband, would be happy. He had never doubted it -from the first day that he had talked with Silvio, when the boy had -been, as it were, but a chance acquaintance. Much knowledge of human -nature had made Don Agostino singularly quick at reading both -countenances and character, and experience had taught him that his first -impressions, especially of a man, were very seldom wrong impressions. - -He had not been satisfied, however, until he had learned from Silvio's -father all that the professor had to tell him concerning his son. As -Don Agostino had said to Silvio, that "all" was only what he had felt -convinced that he should hear. It had told him that the lad was a good -son and a good brother, that he had proved himself to be worthy of -trust, as well as clever and hard-working, and Don Agostino knew enough -of matrimony to realize that such men, when they loved, and if they were -loved, made good husbands. - -He could not doubt Silvio's love for Bianca Acorari; nor had he any -reason to think that Silvio was deceiving himself as to its depth and -sincerity. The professor, to be sure, had declared that it was a case -of love at first sight--only he had defined it more cynically, if -somewhat less gracefully--and had argued that similar affections were -not apt to be of very long duration. This argument, however, had not -appealed to Don Agostino as being by any means conclusive. When he had -first met Bianca Negroni, Bianca Acorari's mother, he had fallen in love -with her there and then, and that love had dominated his whole life. It -had not, it was true, been realized, but had it been realized he knew -that it would have endured the test of supreme satisfaction--that test -which, in love, is the severest of any. He would not have been what he -was--the _parroco_ of Montefiano! Nor was there anything unnatural or -improbable in Bianca Acorari having fallen in love at first sight with -Silvio. Such things might not occur with the colder natures of the -north, perhaps, or they might occur but rarely. But in the south, among -the Latin races, Don Agostino knew very well that such a thing was very -far from being uncommon. All the same, however desirable it may be that -Bianca Acorari and Silvio should find happiness in living their lives -together, Don Agostino did not see how the affair could be managed. None -knew better than he how hard a thing to break down, especially among the -Roman "nobility," was the prejudice of caste. Money, indeed, provided -there was enough of it, could always break it down; but otherwise the -line between the so-called aristocracy and the _bourgeoisie_ was -irremediably fixed. - -Don Agostino was revolving all these thoughts in his mind, when he was -suddenly disturbed by the sound of the bell at the entrance-door. -Somebody, no doubt, was ill, and had sent to summon him, for it was -nearly nine o'clock, and no one would be likely to wish to see him on -any other business at so late an hour. A moment or two passed, and then -Ernana hurried into the room. It was Sor Beppe, she explained, Signor -Fontana, who wished to speak with Don Agostino--if the hour was not too -inconvenient. - -"Fontana!" exclaimed Don Agostino. "Of course, Ernana; bring Signor -Fontana in here. And bring some wine, too, and glasses," and he rose -from his chair to greet his visitor. - -Sor Beppe entered the room hastily, and Don Agostino could see at a -glance that he had not come at that hour, uninvited, merely to discuss -the affairs of Montefiano. It was evident that Fontana was considerably -upset in his mind, or else extremely angry. Don Agostino was not sure -whether it was the one or the other, or perhaps both. - -He quickly came to the conclusion, however, that it was both. Sor -Beppe, indeed, was trembling with ill-suppressed excitement. He -scarcely waited to return Don Agostino's greeting; but, after a hasty -apology for disturbing him at such an hour, seemed at a loss for words -to explain the object of his visit. - -"You have heard?" he burst out at length. - -Don Agostino motioned to him to sit down. - -"I have heard nothing," he replied, quietly. "I only returned from Rome -this morning--or, rather, early this afternoon. Is there anything -wrong, Signor Fontana? You look disturbed." - -"Anything wrong!" exclaimed Fontana. "There is this that is wrong. I -am dismissed!" - -Don Agostino started. "Dismissed?" he repeated. "Dismissed from what? -I do not understand." - -"_Perbacco_, it is very simple!" returned Sor Beppe, sullenly. "I am -dismissed from my office. I am no longer _fattore_ to the -Eccellentissima Casa Acorari at Montefiano. I have said it." - -Don Agostino looked at him. "When, and why?" he asked, abruptly. - -"When? Two days ago. The day your reverence went to Rome. Why? -Because I am an honest man, and because I and my people have been -faithful servants to Casa Acorari for a hundred years and more. Is it -not reason enough?" and Sor Beppe laughed bitterly. - -Don Agostino poured out a glass of wine and pushed it towards him. -"Tell me how it has come about," he said. "If I am not mistaken," he -added, looking at the agent keenly, "Casa Acorari has too much need of -honest men just now to be able to spare one." - -"Ah!" exclaimed Fontana, quickly, "you know that, too? You have heard it -in Rome, perhaps?" - -"I know nothing," replied Don Agostino. "I only guess. And I have heard -nothing in Rome concerning the affairs of Casa Acorari--nothing, that -is, connected with the estates. May I ask," he added, "apart from the -reason you have just given, on what grounds you have been dismissed?" - -Sor Beppe drank off his glass of wine. - -"I will tell you, _reverendo_," he replied. "Some days ago I received -instructions from the estate office in Rome that the rents of certain -small holdings here at Montefiano were to be raised five per cent. I -represented to the administration that the rents were already high -enough, and that to increase them would certainly create much -ill-feeling. The people can barely live like Christians and pay the -rents they are paying, _reverendo_; and who should know it better than -I, who have lived on the land for fifty years?" - -Don Agostino nodded. "I know it, too," he observed. "Go on, Signor -Fontana." - -"I thought my protest had been accepted," continued Fontana, "as I heard -no more from Rome. But four or five days ago that foreign priest, the -Abbe Roux, as they call him, came into my office and asked what I meant -by refusing to obey the instructions I had received from the -administration. I replied that I had sent my reasons to the -administration; and, moreover, that however many instructions to raise -the rents in question might be sent to me from Rome, I should not obey -them until I had explained the truth of the matter to the princess in -person, and had received her orders as the Principessina Bianca's -representative. Was I right, _reverendo_, or wrong?" - -Don Agostino shrugged his shoulders. "You were right, decidedly, I -should say," he replied; "but whether you were wise in your own -interests is another matter." - -"My interests have always been those of Casa Acorari," returned Sor -Beppe, simply, "and it certainly is not to the interest of Casa Acorari -to arouse ill-feeling among the tenants at Montefiano for the sake of a -few hundred francs a year. That is what I intended to have explained to -her excellency the princess." - -"And why did you not explain it to her?" - -"Because I was dismissed by that _mascalzone_ of a priest!" exclaimed -Fontana, angrily. "I beg your pardon, Don Agostino, I should have -remembered that there are priests and priests." - -Don Agostino smiled. "Yes," he observed, "for precisely the same reason -that there are men--and men! So the Abbe Roux dismissed you in the -princess's name, I conclude?" - -"In her excellency's name--yes. Everything is done by the Abbe Roux in -her name. For some time past I have been _fattore_ at Montefiano only -nominally. It is no longer any secret that the Abbe Roux is the chief -administrator of the estate. Two years ago, as your reverence probably -knows, the lease of the rents at Montefiano expired, and the holder of -it offered to renew on the same terms. His offer was declined because -the Abbe Roux had a friend, a _mercante di campagna_, who offered to pay -a rather larger annual sum. Since this man has farmed the rents they -have been gradually increased, and now the people cannot pay and make -enough out of their _tenute_ to live decently." - -Don Agostino leaned forward in his chair. "I did not know," he said. -"I thought the same individual held the contract. To be sure, I did -know that the rents have, in many cases, been raised of late. The -peasants have grumbled, and I have heard you blamed for it." - -"It was not generally known that there had been any change," said -Fontana. "I had my instructions not to talk about the matter, and I -obeyed them. It was no affair of mine who farmed the rents; that is the -business of the administration at Palazzo Acorari in Rome. My duty was -to see that they were paid, and that the tenants cultivated the land -properly. It is quite true--I have been called a hard man, especially -lately. But there were very few complaints of any kind, and I think -still fewer reasonable ones, before this change took place." - -"And who is this friend of the Abbe Roux, who has taken over the lease -of the rents?" asked Don Agostino. - -Sor Beppe hesitated; then, looking round the room as though afraid of -being overheard, he leaned forward and whispered: - -"I do not know; I only suspect. But my belief is that the Abbe Roux's -friend is--himself." - -"_Accidente!_" ejaculated Don Agostino. - -"_Sicuro!_" continued Sor Beppe. "I suspect it, but I have no means of -proving it. One thing is certain, and that is, that the individual who -received the rents has never presented himself in the flesh at -Montefiano; whereas the Abbe Roux has presented himself very frequently. -There is not a metre of land that he has not been over--not a farm or a -cottage that he has not visited, inside and out--and always in the name -of their excellencies, _si capisce_--so what could anybody say?" - -Don Agostino remained silent for a moment. - -"But you have appealed to the princess," he asked, presently, "and -perhaps to Donna Bianca? It is true that she has no voice in the -management of her affairs as yet, but she is the _padrona_, when all is -said and done." - -"Of course I have appealed to the princess," replied Fontana. "I saw -her personally, but the priest was always with her, listening to every -word I said. She was very affable, very sympathetic; but, as she -explained, the business matters of the administration lay in other hands -than her own. She was merely acting in the interests of the -Principessina Bianca, and could only take the advice of those who -understood business matters better than she did herself. She regretted -the present affair, oh, very much; but it was evident that I was not in -accord with the administration of Casa Acorari, and therefore she could -not do otherwise than confirm my dismissal from the post of _fattore_ at -Montefiano." - -"And the _principessina_, Donna Bianca?" said Don Agostino, quickly. - -Sor Beppe made an expressive gesture with both hands. "The -_principessina_," he repeated; "_ma che vuole_? The _principessina_, -_poveretta_, is like a fly in a spider's web. I have seen her half a -dozen times, but never to speak to, except a few words of respect. The -_principessina_? Ah, no! As your reverence says, she has no voice in -the management of her own affairs, none at all. And she never will have -any, for before she is of age they will marry her to her uncle! Of -course he is not her uncle really, but it is much the same." - -Don Agostino drew his chair closer to the other, and at the same time -poured out another glass of wine. - -"Ah," he said, "so you believe that gossip? I had heard it, but it -seemed incredible that it should be anything else but gossip." - -"Do I believe it!" exclaimed Fontana. "Of course I believe it! My -daughter Concetta works at the castle, and they all--all the -household--talk of it. It seems that there is somebody else whom the -poor child wants to marry--the son of some professor in Rome; but she -will never be allowed to marry him. She will marry the _principessa's_ -brother; you will see." - -"That she will not!" exclaimed Don Agostino, emphatically. - -Sor Beppe drank half of his glass of wine. - -"They have brought her here to Montefiano," he said, "and they will keep -her here till she gives way. For the rest, the baron, as they call him, -is madly in love with the girl--at least, he is--" - -"I understand," Don Agostino, interrupted. "It is monstrous," he -added--"a crime!" - -"_Altrocche_! Who knows what may be the motives?" - -Don Agostino glanced at Sor Beppe quickly. - -"The motives?" he repeated. - -"_Sicuro_! Concetta has heard things--oh, but very strange things. -_Sa, reverendo_, the castle is a curious building, and especially that -part of it in which the family resides. There is not one of them who -knows it; but we know it--I and Concetta. _Diamine_! We have lived in -it for more than twenty years, so how should we not know it? _Ebbene_! -Concetta has overheard things--conversations between the baron and that -cursed priest, carried on when they thought themselves secure. At first -she could not understand very clearly, for they talked in French; and -Concetta understands a little French, but not much. She learned all she -knows when she went to a family in Rome. Occasionally, however, the -Abbe Roux and the princess spoke in Italian, and by degrees she has been -able to learn a great deal of what is going on. The baron and the Abbe -Roux are working together, I tell you; the one for lust, the other for -money--or both for money. _Che ne so io_?" - -Don Agostino looked at him steadily. - -"_Adagio_, Signor Fontana!" he said, quietly. "These are very serious -allegations to make. Are you sure that in your very natural indignation -at being dismissed for no offence but that of doing what your conscience -told you was just, you are not exaggerating? Your daughter may have -been mistaken, and the things she overheard may not have applied to -Donna Bianca at all. As to the Baron d'Antin, it is possible that he -may have conceived a passion for Donna Bianca, who is, I believe, a very -beautiful girl. After all, the fact, although perhaps somewhat -repugnant, would not be unprecedented." - -Sor Beppe shook his head. "Concetta made no mistake," he replied, -doggedly. "What she heard, she heard not once only, but many times. -Donna Bianca is to marry the baron; and the princess believes by -consenting to the marriage she will prevent the _principessina_ from -marrying the other--the son of the Roman professor. But in the mean -time, Concetta tells me that the _principessina_ has found out the -intrigue, and has realized that her uncle wants to make love to her. -How Concetta has learned that, I do not know. Perhaps from the -Principessina Bianca's maid--or perhaps she has heard Donna Bianca -talking to herself in her own room." - -Don Agostino turned his head with a movement of impatience. "One would -imagine," he said, "that the walls of the castle had ears." - -Sor Beppe glanced at him with a curious expression in his eyes. "The -castle was not built yesterday," he observed, enigmatically. - -Don Agostino looked round. "What do you mean to imply?" he asked, -quickly. - -The other laughed. "Only this," he replied; "that there are those who -know their way about the castle of Montefiano better than its -owners--better than its present owners, at all events. The late prince -knew--oh, very well, if all the stories are true! But nobody in the -castle now has an idea--except myself and my children--" - -"An idea of what?" asked Don Agostino. "_Andiamo_, Signor Fontana, do -not let us play at mysteries! It seems that your castle is a dangerous -place for confidential conversations." - -"And a convenient place for clandestine meetings," added Fontana. "It -used to be said that the late prince found it so--blessed soul!" - -The suspicion of a smile played round Don Agostino's lips. Then he -seemed as though a sudden thought struck him, and he looked at his -visitor inquiringly. - -"What do you mean?" he exclaimed, almost sharply. "You need not be -afraid that anything you say to me will be repeated in the _paese_." - -Sor Beppe got up from his chair. "Of course you do not understand," he -said. "How should you? Well, I will tell you how it is that it is not -always safe to talk secrets in the castle. One should know where one -is--oh, decidedly! I will tell you something, _reverendo_, and then, -perhaps, you will understand better. If I chose, this very night I -could enter the sleeping apartment of the _principessina_ without a soul -being any the wiser--yes, even if all the doors of the rooms on the -_piano nobile_ were locked. No one would see me enter that wing of the -castle or leave it. Concetta could do the same." - -Don Agostino looked at him in amazement. - -"Are you joking, my friend?" he exclaimed. - -"_Niente affatto_! It is as I say. There is a secret passage in the -inside wall, dividing the whole length of the _piano nobile_ which their -excellencies occupy from the outer gallery. It is in the thickness of -the wall itself, so nobody suspects its existence." - -"_Perbacco_!" ejaculated Don Agostino. "And the entrance to the -passage?" - -"It is by a trap-door in the floor of a room in the basement--a little -room close to the outer gateway, which has long been uninhabited. My -own apartment opens out of it on one side, but the door of communication -was blocked up years ago--before I can remember. _Sicuro!_ the entrance -to the passage is there, and a narrow staircase leads up to the _piano -nobile_ above." - -"And the egress," asked Don Agostino, eagerly; "where is that, Signor -Fontana?" - -Sor Beppe's white teeth gleamed from behind his dark beard. "That is -the strange part of it," he replied. "The passage leads directly into -the room at the extreme end of the _piano nobile_, the room in which the -_principessina_ sleeps. The princess's room is next to it, and there is -no other means of entry visible, except by passing through this. No -doubt the princess chose it for Donna Bianca's sleeping apartment as -being more secure. But, as I say, anybody acquainted with the passage -could enter it." - -"By a trap-door in the floor?" Don Agostino asked. - -Sor Beppe shook his head. "By a much more artistic contrivance," he -replied--"absolutely artistic, you understand. On pressing a spring in -the passage a door slides back noiselessly into a groove in the wall of -the bedroom. Ah, but those who made it were artists! The door is -covered by a picture, the frame of which is so contrived as completely -to conceal the groove into which it slides. A person might inhabit the -room for a lifetime and not be aware that there was any means of -entering or leaving it, except through the adjoining apartment." - -Don Agostino leaned back in his chair and gazed at Fontana in silence. -What he had just heard did not very much surprise him. He knew an old -Medicean villa in Tuscany in which a secret entrance existed almost -similar to that described by Sor Beppe, although it was not in so -serviceable a state as its counterpart at Montefiano appeared to be. -Perhaps the late Prince Montefiano had restored and repaired this one -for purposes of his own. However that might be, the main point was that -here, under his hand, if Sor Beppe was not romancing, was the very -opportunity he had been searching for, to convey Silvio's packet to -Bianca Acorari. Don Agostino felt almost bewildered at the way in which -difficulties, which appeared at one moment to be insurmountable, were -removed. No doubt, he argued to himself, this fresh situation was -nothing but a coincidence. There was no reason why a mediaeval fortress -such as Montefiano, to which a Renaissance palace has been attached, -should not have a dozen secret passages concealed in its walls. But it -was, at any rate, a very fortunate circumstance, and one which, -cautiously made use of, might considerably assist the ends he had in -view. - -He looked at Fontana silently for a few moments as though trying to read -the man's thoughts. - -"What you have told me is very interesting," he observed, presently; -"but I do not understand how your daughter comes to overhear what may be -said while in the secret passage. She does not, I conclude, spend all -her time in the vicinity of Donna Bianca's room; and even if she did, -how could she hear through a stone wall?" - -"_Altro_! Your reverence is quite right," returned Sor Beppe. "But -that is easily explained, only I forgot to explain it. Every word -spoken in certain of the apartments on the _piano nobile_ can be -distinctly heard by any one standing in the secret passage if, _ben -inteso_, that person is in that part of it immediately outside the room -in which the conversation takes place. It is managed very cleverly. One -has only to know where to stand. For example, the passage runs the -whole length of the dining-room. That was a wise thought of those who -made it, for who knows what secrets the spies of the old Acorari may not -have learned? Food and wine open men's mouths. And the room next to -the dining-room, _reverendo_, is occupied by the Abbe Roux as his study. -It is there that he and the baron sit and smoke at nights when their -excellencies have retired to their rooms." - -Don Agostino nodded. "As you say," he observed, "the castle of -Montefiano is not a safe place for confidences." - -"Or for rogues," added Sor Beppe. - -"That depends," returned Don Agostino, dryly. "But why," he added, "did -you not warn the princess of the existence of this secret entrance? -Surely it is scarcely safe if people are aware of it." - -"But nobody knows of it," replied Fontana. "All that the people know is -that once upon a time there was supposed to be a secret communication -between the castle and the town; and when I was a lad, it used to be -said that the prince had availed himself of it for certain adventures, -for everybody knew that he had an eye for every good-looking woman -except his own wife." - -"Never mind the prince," interrupted Don Agostino, abruptly. "Nobody -else knows of the passage, you say?" - -"They think it no longer exists," continued Sor Beppe. "I have always -said that it was built up years ago. It was a lie, of course; but it -was not necessary to let people think they could get into the castle -unobserved. I forbade Concetta ever to mention it. As to naming the -matter to the princess, I saw no necessity to do that. I would have -told the _principessina_ of it if I had ever had the chance of speaking -with her alone. But Concetta implored me not to mention it even to the -_principessina_. It would make her nervous, she said, to sleep in a -room with a sliding-door in the wall." - -"Ah," remarked Don Agostino, "you would have mentioned it to Donna -Bianca; then why not to the princess?" - -Sor Beppe shrugged his shoulders. "She is not the _padrona_--that other -one," he said; "and, besides, she is only a foreigner, and a second -wife. I would do anything to serve the Principessina -Bianca--anything!--for she is an Acorari and Principessa di Montefiano. -Who knows," he continued, angrily, "whether it is not because I am loyal -to the _principessina_ that I am dismissed? I have only seen her a few -times, _reverendo_, but I give you my word that I would rather have a -smile and a _buon giorno_, from Donna Bianca than--well, I do not know -what to say." - -Don Agostino smiled. "I am glad to hear it," he said. "After all, it is -very natural that you should feel so. Donna Bianca is your _padrona_." - -"Was!" interrupted Sor Beppe, swallowing a curse in his beard at the -same time. - -"Ah! but let us wait, my friend," proceeded Don Agostino. "Perhaps the -princess will discover that she has been ill-advised, and then you will -be reinstated. In the mean time, you will not be doing either yourself -or Donna Bianca Acorari any harm by continuing to be loyal to her. You -may, perhaps, be able to serve her, to have an opportunity of showing -your loyalty--who knows?" - -Sor Beppe passed the back of his brown hand across his eyes. -"_Magari!_" he said, warmly; "_magari!_ if I could serve her! -_Poveretta_, I fear she needs friends badly enough. It is all very fine -of the Abbe Roux to talk about Donna Bianca being in _villeggiatura_ at -Montefiano. _Ma che villeggiatura_! It is an imprisonment, pure and -simple. Do I not know it--I? The poor child! She is shut up here to -keep her away from her lover in Rome; the maid, Bettina, has said as -much to Concetta. And there are strict orders that no one is to enter -the castle--no stranger, that is. All the letters are taken to the -princess, both the post that arrives and that which goes out. It would -have been more humane to have put the girl into a convent. At any rate, -she would have had companions, and there would presumably be no old -he-goat to make love to her." - -Don Agostino listened to Sor Beppe's flow of language with a certain -amount of satisfaction. The man was evidently sincere in his devotion -to Bianca Acorari, and it was pleasant to him, moreover, to hear that -Bianca was one of those who were able to inspire personal devotion. -That Fontana knew, or at least suspected, more than he divulged of the -state of affairs at the castle, and of the intrigues of which Bianca -formed the central figure, he had not the slightest doubt. Many -whispers had already reached his ears as to the close watch which was -being kept over the young princess, how she was always accompanied by -either her step-mother or the Baron d'Antin, and how the baron was -evidently deeply in love with her. He had often wondered how these -rumors were spread, for he happened to know that there was little or no -communication between the small household the princess had brought with -her and the town of Montefiano. There were no young men-servants, -indeed, to go out and gossip in the _osteria_; for Princess Montefiano -had only brought her _maggior-domo_ from Palazzo Acorari, a venerable -person of sedate habits, and one scarcely less venerable man in livery; -and neither of these had ever been known to leave the castle walls or to -exchange a word with the Montefianesi. - -No doubt the rumors in question, and more particularly the rumors -concerning Baron d'Antin, had been circulated by Concetta Fontana, and -Don Agostino was not altogether sorry if this were really the case. It -would be no bad thing were public opinion at Montefiano to be aroused to -sympathy with Bianca Acorari and distrust of the princess's advisers. -It was more than probable that Monsieur l'Abbe Roux, in bringing about -Fontana's dismissal, had committed an impolitic act. Although the -_fattore_ might have lost some of his popularity owing to recent events, -he was, nevertheless, a native of the district, and well known -throughout the Sabina. - -"Does your reverence really think that the princess will reconsider my -dismissal?" asked Sor Beppe, as Don Agostino did not speak. "You can -understand," he continued, "that it is a hard thing for me. I am not an -old man, that is true; but I am too old to be transplanted. Besides, we -Fontana have served Casa Acorari for four generations or more, and it is -a bitter thing to be turned away by a foreign woman and an _imbroglione_ -of a priest." - -Don Agostino nodded sympathetically. "It is a hard thing, certainly," -he replied, "and it is also, so far as I can see, an unjust thing. As -to whether the princess will reconsider the matter, that I cannot tell -you. You must remember that, as I think I have told you before, I have -never seen the princess. But her rule will not last forever; and when -Donna Bianca has the management of her own affairs, things may be very -different. She is not a foreigner, and is not at all likely to be -influenced by priests, I should say. Probably she will reward those who -have been loyal to her, and her own people will come before strangers, -unless I am very much mistaken." - -Sor Beppe looked at him shrewdly. "I thought you said you did not know -the _principessina_?" he said. - -"Neither do I," answered Don Agostino, "but I know something about her." - -"Perhaps you know her lover--oh, I do not mean that Belgian goat, but -the other one?" - -"Yes--I know him." - -"Ah! And he is worthy of the _principessina_?" - -"I feel convinced that he is thoroughly worthy." - -"Then what is the objection? He has no money, perhaps?" - -"He is not noble." - -"_Diamine!_ and what does that matter if he is worthy in other ways? I -do not suppose he is a _contadino_." - -"No," replied Don Agostino, smiling, "he is an engineer, and some day he -will be a great man, I believe. His father is a great man already, the -famous Senator Rossano. You have perhaps heard of him?" - -"_Altro_! So it is he whom the _principessina_ is in love with! Well, -_reverendo_, is it not better than marrying that old baron with ink-pots -under his eyes?" - -Don Agostino laughed. "Certainly!" he replied. "But the baron and the -Abbe Roux think otherwise. That is the difficulty; and what they think, -the princess thinks." - -"_Si capisce!_" - -"Signor Fontana," said Don Agostino, suddenly, "you said just now that -you would do anything for Donna Bianca. Were you in earnest?" - -"And why not, _reverendo_?" - -"_Bene_! You have the opportunity of proving your loyalty." - -He rose from his chair, and, taking Silvio's packet from the -writing-table, placed it in Sor Beppe's hands. "I have promised Signor -Rossano, Donna Bianca's affianced husband, that this should reach her -without delay. She has been waiting for it for weeks. Will you -undertake that it shall be given into her hands, and into her hands -only?" - -Sor Beppe's eyes flashed. "I swear it!" he said. "Concetta shall give -it to her this very night." - -"Concetta? But is she to be trusted?" - -"As much as I am to be trusted, _reverendo_. Concetta would do anything -to serve the _principessina_. You need not be afraid. Donna Bianca -shall have her lover's letter this very night. You can guess how?" - -"Of course. But will she not be terrified at seeing your daughter enter -her room in such a manner? Remember that the princess sleeps next door -to her." - -"Concetta will know what to do," returned Sor Beppe. - -"Good. But there must be no failure--no risk of the packet falling into -other hands, or its delivery being suspected." - -"There will be none." - -Don Agostino held out his hand. "You will not regret what you have -undertaken," he said, "and you may be sure that the _principessina_ will -not forget it, either. We must save her from a great unhappiness, my -friend, and perhaps from, worse than that. Now, I must be inhospitable -and ask you to go; for it is late, and you have to arrange matters with -Concetta, who by this time is probably asleep. Who knows what led you -to visit me this evening? I had been turning over in my mind every -means I could imagine to insure that packet reaching Donna Bianca -safely. It is certainly very strange." - -Sor Beppe buttoned up the little parcel securely in the corner pocket of -his coat. "To-morrow I will come again," he said, "and who knows that I -shall not bring with me an acknowledgment from the _principessina_ that -she has received the packet safely? Then you can write to her lover and -tell him so. All the same, if I were that young man, I would come to -Montefiano and take Donna Bianca away with me--even if I had to slit the -throats of the baron and the Abbe Roux in the doing of it." And -muttering a string of expletives under his breath, Sor Beppe passed out -into the garden. Don Agostino let him out through the door, opening to -the piazza in front of the church; and then, after standing for a few -moments to watch his tall figure striding away down the white road -towards the castle, he went slowly back into his house, bidding Ernana, -whose curiosity as to Sor Beppe's visit had brought her out to the -threshold, lock up the door and go to bed. - - - - - *XXIV* - - -Monsieur d'Antin's visit to Rome was not of long duration. He returned -to Montefiano two days after the evening when he had dined at the -Castello di Costantino, in close proximity to Professor Rossano and his -little party. That evening had certainly been an entertaining one to -him, for many reasons. He had, of course, instantly recognized Silvio -and Giacinta Rossano, while his host and companion, Peretti, had as -quickly identified the professor. Except for the brief glimpse Monsieur -d'Antin had caught of Silvio on the staircase of Palazzo Acorari, he had -never had an opportunity of watching him with any attention; yet the -boy's form and features were well impressed on his memory, and he would -in any case have known he must be Giacinta Rossano's brother by the -strong likeness existing between the two. - -It had been his ill-disguised interest in him, and the marked manner in -which he stared, that had nearly provoked Silvio into openly resenting -this liberty on the part of a stranger; and probably Monsieur d'Antin -had very little idea that he had narrowly escaped bringing about a scene -which he might afterwards have had cause to regret. His glance and -attitude had been so insolent, indeed, that for a moment or two Silvio -had wondered whether he did not intend to provoke a public quarrel, -which could have had but one result--a meeting with pistols or swords in -some secluded villa garden, where the police were not likely to -interfere. Had Giacinta, confident from her brother's face that a storm -was brewing, and knowing that though storms were rare with Silvio they -were apt to be violent if they burst, not taken Monsieur Lelli's advice -and hurried him and her father away from the terrace, there was no -saying what complication might not have arisen still further to increase -the difficulties of the general situation. - -As a matter of fact, Monsieur d'Antin's vanity had received a violent -shock. He had known that Silvio Rossano was extremely good-looking, for -he had gathered as much when he had seen him ascending the staircase at -Palazzo Acorari. But he had not realized it as fully as he did that -evening at the Castello di Costantino. The discovery annoyed him -exceedingly, for obvious reasons. He had, up to that moment, felt no -particular personal antipathy towards a presumptuous young man of the -_bourgeois_ class, who had ventured to consider himself a fitting -husband for Bianca Acorari. On the contrary, Monsieur d'Antin had felt -most grateful to him for having, by his presumption and want of -knowledge of the ways of good society, placed Bianca in an equivocal -position, and at the mercy of anybody who might choose to set a scandal -abroad concerning her. - -But that night, as he looked across the restaurant at the table where -Silvio was sitting, he hated him for his youth, for his tall, well-knit -form, for his good-looking face; and perhaps, more than all, for a -certain indefinable air of high-breeding and easy grace, which Monsieur -d'Antin angrily told himself a person of the middle class had no right -to possess. Nothing escaped him. He watched Silvio's manner, his mode -of eating and drinking, his dress, everything, in short, which could -betray the cloven hoof he was longing to discover. He could overhear, -too, snatches of the conversation from Professor Rossano's table, and he -was disagreeably surprised by what he heard. There was none of the -loud, vulgar intonation of the voices usually the accompaniment of any -gathering together of Romans of the middle and lower orders, and none of -the two eternal topics of conversation--food and money--from which the -Roman of the middle classes can with difficulty be persuaded to tear -himself away. - -Monsieur d'Antin could not but confess that, so far, at any rate, as -appearance and manner were concerned, Silvio was a great deal more of a -gentleman than very many of the young men of rank and fashion he was -accustomed to meet in the drawing-rooms of _la haute societe_ in Rome; -and that he had another advantage that these, as a rule, did not -possess--he looked intelligent and manly. - -The reflection was not pleasing. He would have far preferred to be able -to detect some trace of vulgarity in Bianca's presumptuous lover, and he -could discover none. He was disagreeably conscious, too, of his own -disadvantages as he looked at Silvio--of his years, of his figure, and -of other details beside these. - -But if the Rossano family, and especially Silvio, had occupied his -attention and interest that evening, Monsieur d'Antin had been hardly -less concerned with the personality of Monsignor Lelli. His companion -had immediately detected the latter's presence and had pointed him out, -at the same time rapidly explaining who he was and his past history at -the Vatican. - -The _commendatore_--he was _commendatore_ of the papal Order of St. -Gregory--made it his business to know as much as he could find out about -everybody in Rome, and his information--when it happened to be of -sufficient interest, personal, political, or religious--having been for -some time placed at the disposal of his patron at the Vatican, the -cardinal secretary of state, had been duly paid for by the bestowal of a -clerical order of chivalry. It was rumored that he had been the -instrument of making more than one wealthy English and American convert -to Catholicism among the fair sex; which, as he was not ill-looking, and -occupied some of his spare time by giving Italian lessons in eligible -quarters, was not improbable. At any rate, the _commendatore_ knew all -about Monsignor Lelli and the history of his falling into disgrace at -the Vatican, though he was very careful only to give Monsieur d'Antin -the official version of the affair. The story did not interest Monsieur -d'Antin very much. Moreover, as it turned upon political and financial -matters, in which clerics and their money were concerned, he did not -believe more than a very small proportion of what he was told. What -interested him far more, was the fact that Monsignor Lelli had been sent -to work out his repentance at Montefiano; and that he was undoubtedly on -intimate terms with the Rossano family. - -The departure from the restaurant of the Rossanos and the priest had not -escaped the quick eye of the _commendatore_. - -"He does not want it known that he is in Rome," he had whispered to -Monsieur d'Antin, as Don Agostino disappeared from the terrace. - -Monsieur d'Antin did not reply. He thought it far more probable that -Monsignor Lelli did not wish to be seen in Silvio's society by anybody -connected with the Montefiano household. He kept his own counsel, -however, and allowed his companion to think that it was his appearance -on the scene that had frightened the priest away. The time had not yet -arrived for letting the outside world into the secret of Bianca -Acorari's indiscretion. - -"I shall certainly let them know at the Vatican that Lelli is in Rome," -Peretti said to Monsieur d'Antin. "Who knows why he is here, instead of -attending to his duties at Montefiano? I am almost sure it was to -Montefiano he was sent, but I will make certain to-morrow, when I shall -see the cardinal." - -"Why did they choose Montefiano?" asked Monsieur d'Antin. "It is a -dreary place; and whenever I have driven through the town, I have seen -nothing but pigs and old women--very ugly old women." - -Peretti laughed. "That is why he was sent there," he replied. "The -Holy Father concluded that he was better fitted to deal with pigs and -old women than with finance." - -"How long will he be kept there?" - -The other lifted his eyebrows. "_Mah!_" he said. "Who knows?" - -It had not suited Monsieur d'Antin's purpose to discuss Monsignor Lelli -any further with the host that evening. He reflected that whatever -Peretti might know about him, the Abbe Roux would know also, and -possibly considerably more. He wondered that the abbe had never -mentioned the fact that the parish priest at Montefiano had once been a -member of the papal court, or alluded to him in any way. It did not -surprise him that Monsignor Lelli should never have presented himself at -the castle, for he quite understood that the Abbe Roux would not allow -any opportunity of poaching over his ground on the part of a brother -cleric. Besides, there was a chapel in the castle, and mass, and the -Abbe Roux said the mass; at which latter thought Monsieur d'Antin -smiled, as if it afforded him some amusement. - -And so he returned, the next day but one, to Montefiano, resolved to -lose no time in acquainting the Abbe Roux with the news that he had seen -Monsignor Lelli dining at a Roman restaurant in the company of the -Rossano family, and apparently on terms of intimate friendship both with -the Senator Rossano and with his son. There could be no kind of doubt -that this intimacy, so providentially discovered, might seriously -compromise the ultimate success of the scheme which had been so -carefully devised for compelling Bianca to give up all thoughts of young -Rossano, and accept what was offered to her in the place of his -presumptuous attachment. Nothing but a separation from her lover, which -should be complete in every detail, could accomplish this object; and if -Silvio Rossano had a friend at Montefiano, and that friend the -_parroco_, there could be no saying what means might not be resorted to -for the purpose of establishing the very communications between him and -Bianca which it was so imperative to render absolutely impracticable. - -It was nearly mid-day before Monsieur d'Antin, who had taken the early -morning train from Rome to Attigliano, arrived at Montefiano, and he had -barely time to wash, and change his dusty clothes, before joining his -sister at breakfast. A glance at the princess's face showed him that -something had certainly occurred during his absence to upset her. The -Abbe Roux, who was also at the table, looked both preoccupied and cross. -Only Bianca appeared serene, and, to Monsieur d'Antin's surprise, -altogether contented. There was a light in her eyes and an expression -of scarcely suppressed happiness on her face that he never remembered to -have seen there, certainly not since he had been at Montefiano. It -reminded him of the look she had worn on the afternoon of his visit to -the Villa Acorari, when he had found her alone in the Marble Hall, fresh -from her stolen interview with her lover. - -Expression and demeanor changed, however, as Monsieur d'Antin greeted -Bianca with an airy compliment on her appearance. His salutation was -scarcely replied to, and every subsequent attempt to draw her into -conversation failed ignominiously. The meal was decidedly not a -cheerful one, and it had scarcely concluded when Bianca got up from her -chair, and, making a slight courtesy to her step-mother, left the room -without a word. The Abbe Roux lifted his eyes to the ceiling with a -sigh, and the princess looked pained and uncomfortable. The -men-servants were already bringing in the coffee, and Monsieur d'Antin -was constrained to wait until they had served and retired before seeking -for an explanation of the state of the social atmosphere in which he -found himself. - -The princess drank a few mouthfuls of her coffee, and left the table -almost as soon as the door had closed upon the servants. - -"If you will excuse me, Philippe," she said to her brother, "I am going -to my room. I am nervous--unwell. That unhappy child--" Her voice -trembled, and it was evident that Princess Montefiano was very near to -tears. "Monsieur l'Abbe will explain to you," she continued; "he is -entirely in my confidence. You can talk together over your cigars, and -we will meet afterwards, when I am calmer." - -She left the room hastily, and Monsieur d'Antin looked across the table -to the abbe. - -"_Que diable!_" he exclaimed. "Might one ask what has happened?" - -The Abbe Roux cleared his throat. "Let us go into the next room," he -said. "We can talk quietly there without being overheard by the -servants"--and he led the way into the apartment specially devoted to -his use. - -"Ah, my dear monsieur," he said, as soon as they had shut the double -doors behind them, "it is not to be wondered at if Madame la Princesse -is upset! Since you have been away, Donna Bianca has made a scene--a -veritable scene, you understand. It appears that she has asserted her -fixed determination to marry this impossible young man, and has -announced that she will wait till she is her own mistress, if--" - -"If what?" asked Monsieur d'Antin, as he paused. - -"_Parbleu_! If her lover does not choose that she should marry him -before--the religious marriage, of course." - -Monsieur d'Antin lit a cigarette. - -"A girl's enthusiasm," he observed. "It will pass." - -The abbe glanced at him. "I think not," he replied. "I have known -Donna Bianca since she was a child. When she has made up her mind to do -or not to do a thing, it is not easy to make her alter it. She is -undisciplined--completely undisciplined," he added, almost angrily. - -"No doubt. It is all the more reason that she should learn what -discipline means. She will make a better wife for knowing it," and -Monsieur d'Antin chuckled softly. - -"Ah, as to that, monsieur, there can be, I suppose, no question. But -what I have already told you is not all. The princess, perhaps, would -not have taken Donna Bianca's refusal to submit her will to the -direction of those who are her lawful guardians so deeply to heart, if -that had been all. She would have trusted to time and--and to Donna -Bianca's conscience, to make her step-daughter see reason and realize -that obedience is the first of all duties." - -Monsieur d'Antin fidgeted uneasily in his chair. "I think, Monsieur -l'Abbe," he said, dryly, "that you and I can afford to dispense with -moralities, can we not?" - -The abbe looked angry for an instant. Then he smiled. "Perhaps," he -replied. "After all, we have to regard Donna Bianca's position from a -business point of view." - -"Precisely, my dear friend, from a business point of view. Let us -confine it to that, if you please. Let us assume, for example, that you -are--a layman. It will simplify matters very much." - -The abbe looked at him suspiciously, and his black eyebrows contracted -disagreeably. He was never quite sure whether he were managing Monsieur -d'Antin or whether Monsieur d'Antin were managing him. - -"It would appear," he observed, presently, "from what Donna Bianca has -said to Madame la Princesse, that you have introduced--what shall I -say!--a little too much sentiment into your business point of view." - -Monsieur d'Antin smiled complacently. - -"What would you have, my dear abbe?" he replied. "You know my little -secret. If I remember rightly, I confessed to you, and you gave me -absolution--is it not so? Yes. I admit that I have perhaps been a -little indiscreet, a little premature. But one cannot always control -one's feelings. The _soutane_ is one thing, and the pantalons are -another. You must make allowance for those who do not wear the -_soutane_." - -"The question is," said the Abbe Roux, a little irritably, "that Donna -Bianca will have none of it." - -"None of which, my dear friend?" asked Monsieur d'Antin, imperturbably. -"Of the _soutane_, or--" - -The abbe laughed in spite of himself. "You have frightened her," he -said. "She understands; and she has told the princess--oh, told her -very plainly! It was a mistake. You should have waited--a month--six -months. Moreover, she has found out that it was you who saw her and -young Rossano together at the Villa Acorari; and now she feels that you -have deceived her throughout the whole business. She will never forgive -that. It would have been better to have told her that it was through -you the affair became known, that you had felt bound to warn Madame la -Princesse of what you believed to be a great peril threatening her -step-daughter. Now, Donna Bianca has said that even if she is kept here -for three years it will make no difference; that she will not be made -love to by you; and that you are a liar and a coward." - -Monsieur d'Antin started up from his chair. - -"Monsieur l'Abbe!" he exclaimed, furiously. - -"Oh, I am quoting Donna Bianca's words. You cannot be surprised that -madame your sister should be upset. It is now three days ago--that -little scene--and the girl has scarcely spoken a word to the princess -since. She is hard--hard as a piece of stone when she chooses to be so. -Now, I ask you, what is to be done? She will wait three years, six -years, if necessary, or she will find some means of running away with -her lover--who knows? But she will never allow you to approach her, -Monsieur le Baron; of that I am convinced." - -Monsieur d'Antin swore, softly. "She must give way!" he exclaimed. "It -is a mere question of time. The girl has a spirit, that I do not deny, -but it can be broken. Bah! it is not worth while _de se faire de la -bile_ about a girl's sentimental passion for a good-looking young man -who has once kissed her, and whom she will never see again. We have only -to remain firm, and all will turn out as we propose. It will take time, -perhaps, but from a business point of view--always from a business point -of view, my dear Monsieur l'Abbe--time is exactly what we wish to gain, -is it not? I admit that, from the other point of view--mine, you -understand--delay is not so satisfactory." - -The abbe looked up quickly. "Ah, certainly," he said, eagerly, "you are -perfectly right; to gain time is everything! And if Donna Bianca does -not mind waiting for her lover, well, from a business point of view, -delay will be very advantageous." - -Monsieur d'Antin lit another cigarette. - -"To you," he said, quietly. "To you, dear Monsieur l'Abbe; but, as I -said before, to me not quite so much so. There is my part of the bargain -to be considered, is there not? And if I am not to marry Donna Bianca -Acorari, I confess that I do not particularly care whether she marries -young Rossano or goes into a convent. All the same, I do not imagine -that she will go into a convent." - -Monsieur d'Antin paused, and looked steadily at his companion. His -voice and manner were suaveness itself; nevertheless, the abbe was -conscious that his words implied something very like a threat. - -"Of course," he replied, "there is your part of the question to be -considered. I do not forget it. But what you want is not so easy to -obtain. I fear that Donna Bianca, even were she finally to renounce all -hopes of Rossano, would never be induced to listen to your proposal to -take his place. Besides, I very much doubt if Madame la Princesse would -go so far as to attempt to force upon her step-daughter an alliance -apparently so distasteful to her. No, Monsieur le Baron, I speak -frankly. Donna Bianca's sudden assertion of the course she intends to -adopt has materially altered the situation. Who has any influence over -her? Certainly not the princess, certainly not myself, to whom she -never addresses a word if she can avoid doing so. The only person who, -until recently, seemed to have gained her confidence, was yourself. -What has caused her to declare, as she has declared, that she will not -allow you to approach her, you must know better than I. In the mean -time, the field is as clear to you as it was before, and we will hope -that this little outburst on the part of Donna Bianca may not be of much -importance. At least, you must admit that I have done my best to -further your object. You owe it entirely to me if the princess, against -her own inclinations, was persuaded to countenance that object." - -"But, my dear Monsieur l'Abbe," returned Monsieur d'Antin, airily, "I -fully realize the efforts you have made on my behalf. Why not? As to -Donna Bianca having taken me _en grippe_, well, I assure you that I -rather enjoy it. I like a woman to show some fight. I shall do my best -to remove the bad impression I have made. Apparently, she enjoys it -also. I never saw her look so animated as she did to-day. The little -scene with my sister, that you tell me of, must have acted as a -tonic--and no doubt she will be the better for it, and more amenable to -reason. Do not let us talk any more about it for the present. Apropos, -how do your little matters of business progress? I think you told me -before I left that my sister had some trouble with the agent here, and -that you had advised her to dismiss him?" - -The abbe frowned. "Yes," he said, curtly, "the man is dismissed, and I -have another _fattore_ ready to take his place. But there is some -little difficulty. It appears that the people are angry at his -dismissal. I am told it has created great ill-feeling in Montefiano. -There is a meddlesome _parroco_ here--" - -"_Diable!_" exclaimed Monsieur d'Antin; "I had quite forgotten about -him." - -"What? You know him?" - -"No, my dear friend, no. But I happened to see him two or three -evenings ago in Rome, and in whose company do you suppose he was? You -will never guess. Well, he was dining at a restaurant with Professor -Rossano and his son and daughter." - -The Abbe Roux gave an exclamation of surprise. - -"_Lelli_! Dining with the Rossanos? Are you sure that it was he?" - -"Absolutely sure. I was dining with Peretti--you know whom I mean?--and -Peretti knew Monsignor Lelli perfectly well. He left the restaurant -very soon after he saw us." - -"Lelli!" repeated the Abbe Roux, with a scowl. "Yes, he is the priest -at Montefiano. Peretti will have told you his story. He fell into -disgrace at the Vatican--in fact, he embezzled money, and rather than -have a public scandal, he was sent here to get him out of the way. What -was he doing with the Rossanos?" - -"Eating his dinner," replied Monsieur d'Antin, tranquilly; "at least, if -you call such a thing a dinner. _Ciel!_ what filth one eats in a Roman -restaurant, even in the best of them. Oh, la, la! Yes, your _parroco_ -was dining with the Rossano family. It would appear that he is an -intimate friend." - -"No doubt," observed the abbe, with a sneer. "Lelli was always hand and -glove with all the _canaille_ in Rome of the literary and scientific -world. He is simply a free-thinker--nothing more nor less. It does not -at all surprise me that he should be a friend of Professor Rossano." - -"But it is a little unfortunate that a friend of the Rossanos should be -cure at Montefiano, is it not?" asked Monsieur d'Antin. - -The abbe started. "Assuredly," he said. "You are right. It is a -danger. For the moment I did not think of it. Yes, it might be a grave -danger. Moreover, the man is mischievous. He is always siding with the -peasants. Only yesterday I heard that he had declared Fontana's--the -agent's--dismissal to be an injustice. We do not want men of that sort. -They spoil the people and make them discontented." - -"It is clear that he is very intimate with Professor Rossano and his -son," returned Monsieur d'Antin, "and in his position here at Montefiano -as parish priest, what is to prevent him from inducing one of the people -about to deliver some letter or some message to Donna Bianca? And once -she realizes that she can receive communications from the outside world, -all our precautions will be useless. The knowledge that she could do so -would make her more obstinate than ever in her determination not to give -up young Rossano." - -The abbe frowned. "Leave it to me, monsieur," he replied. "Lelli will -not succeed in entering the castle of Montefiano, however much he may be -the village priest. I put a stop to any idea of the kind long ago. -Indeed, it was necessary to warn the princess against him. She had -never heard his history, and I discovered--oh, two or three years -ago--that he was getting money out of her for the poor; and, moreover, -that he was always urging Fontana to appeal for a reduction in the -rents. Of course, directly the princess realized that he had been sent -to Montefiano in disgrace, and heard all the scandal concerning his -removal from the Vatican, she ceased to allow him to interfere between -the people and the administration of the estates. No, I do not think we -need fear Monsignor Lelli." - -"At least it will do no harm to be on our guard," insisted Monsieur -d'Antin. - -"Oh, as to that, of course! Moreover, should there be any cause to -suspect that he was helping young Rossano, it would not be difficult to -obtain his removal. There are many hill villages which are even more -isolated than Montefiano--in the Abruzzi, for instance. And I do not -imagine that the Holy Father cares where Lelli is, so long as he is -safely out of the way until it pleases Providence to remove him -altogether." And the Abbe Roux laughed harshly. - -Monsieur d'Antin yawned. "I shall go to my room," he said, throwing -away his cigarette and rising from his chair. "Travelling on one of -these horrible Italian railways is bad enough at any time, with the dirt -and the unpunctuality, but in hot weather it is doubly fatiguing. Then -it appears to me, my dear friend," he added, "that notwithstanding Donna -Bianca's charming display of petulancy, we remain as before. A little -stricter discipline, perhaps--a little more precaution against any -possible interference on the part of this _monsignore_, is it not so?" - -"Precisely, monsieur--and patience, always patience!" - -"Ah!" observed Monsieur d'Antin. "It is an admirable quality--but the -exercising of it is apt to become monotonous." - - - - - *XXV* - - -The evening before Monsieur d'Antin's return to Montefiano from Rome, -Bianca Acorari had dined alone. The princess had been invisible most of -the day. Although she appeared at breakfast, she had retired to her -room later on in the afternoon, a victim to a violent nervous headache, -the result, as Bianca was only too well aware, of the agitation she had -been in ever since the scene on the previous day. The Abbe Roux had -announced at breakfast that he should be away until late that evening, -having, as he explained, to go to Orvieto to visit a friend who lived -near that city. As Bianca sat alone at dinner, she felt grateful to the -abbe for having had the tact to absent himself. She did not feel -inclined for a _tete-a-tete_ meal with anybody, and certainly not with -the Abbe Roux. - -To say the truth, her step-mother's evident distress had made Bianca -almost regret that she had allowed herself to speak so plainly as she -had done the day before. Resolute and strong-willed as she could be -when she chose, her nature was both sensitive and warm-hearted; and -although she would not have retracted one word that she had said, or -retreated one inch from the attitude she had taken up, she felt sorry -and disturbed in her mind at the pain she had evidently occasioned the -princess. After all, it was not unnatural that her step-mother should -consider it to be her duty to impede by every means in her power a -marriage of which she disapproved. It was not unnatural, either, that -she should disapprove. Bianca, whose sense of justice was unusually -strong, would have scorned to be unjust to any individual simply because -she happened not to be in agreement with that individual. She was quite -aware, too, that her conduct had been certainly not in accordance with -that which was considered fitting to a young girl in any position. She -should, of course, have refused to allow Silvio to speak a word of love -to her until he should first have gained the consent of her step-mother. -No doubt she had been wrong--immodest, perhaps, as her step-mother had -said--but all the same, she was glad she had not repulsed Silvio that -day in the ilex grove. Glad, did she say? But that was an untruth. She -had never thought of repulsing him, could not have done so, for she -wanted love. She had wanted it for so long, and she had understood that -Silvio had it to give her. And she wanted somebody whom she could love, -not merely some one towards whom she was perpetually being told she -should be dutiful. No, it was absurd to say she was glad she had -listened to him, and had let him tell her his love in his own way. It -was worse than absurd--it was a lie told to herself. Ever since that -Christmas night when she had seen him in the church of the Sudario, she -had understood that she loved, and that he loved her. And she had never -thought of repulsing him. She had thought only of the moment when she -should hear him tell her of his love; when she should feel his arms -around her and his lips on hers; when she could show him that she, too, -knew what love was. - -From which reflections it was evident that Monsieur d'Antin had been -right in his diagnosis of Bianca Acorari's temperament, and in coming to -the conclusion that his sister and the Abbe Roux would be preparing for -themselves a disillusion if they continued to regard her as little more -than a child. - -Bianca retired to her room early that night. It was certainly not -cheerful to sit alone in the drawing-room after dinner, trying to read a -book by the light of one or two old-fashioned moderator lamps, which -only served to cast gloomy shadows into the corners of the vast -apartment. The princess had caused a pianoforte to be sent from Rome; -for the Erard which stood at one end of the drawing-room was reduced by -age and damp to a compass of some two octaves of notes which, when -played upon, produced sounds that were strange but scarcely musical; -while the upper and lower octaves of the key-board had ceased to produce -any sound whatever, save a spasmodic, metallic tapping as the hammer -struck the broken wires. Bianca used to touch the instrument sometimes, -and wonder whether it had belonged to her mother, and if her hands had -pressed the yellow keys. She knew that her mother had passed the last -year or two of her life at Montefiano, and that she herself had first -seen the light there. - -But to-night she was not in the humor for either reading or playing the -piano. She felt weary, mentally and bodily; for, after the excitement -of the discussion the previous day with her step-mother, reaction had -set in. She was depressed, and, a thing very unusual to her, nervous. -An almost intolerable sensation of loneliness haunted her. It seemed -strange to think that a few hundred metres away, down in the _paese_, -people were talking and laughing and living their lives. She was not -living hers; life was going on all around her, but she had no part or -share in it. Ah, if only she could hear something from Silvio!--hear of -him, even--she would not feel quite so lonely. She would feel sure -then, though they were separated, though probably they would be divided -for months and years to come, that they were together in their thoughts; -that he was faithful and true to her, as she was struggling with all her -force to be faithful and true to the promise she had made him there, -under the ilex-trees at the Villa Acorari. - -Passing quietly through her step-mother's apartment, lest she should be -perhaps already asleep, Bianca was about to enter her own room, when the -princess called to her. - -"Come here, _figlia mia_," she said, gently, "I am not asleep." - -Bianca approached the bed and remained standing by it. Princess -Montefiano took her hand and held it in hers for a moment. - -"You think me very cruel, do you not, Bianca?" she said; "like the cruel -step-mothers in the fairy-tales," she added, with a little attempt at a -laugh. "Well, some day you will understand that if I am unkind, it is -for your good. But there is something else I want to say to you. I do -not intend to discuss the other matter--the Rossano matter. I shall -never change my opinion on that point--never! And so long as you are -under my authority, so long shall I absolutely forbid any question of a -marriage between you and a son of Professor Rossano, and communication -of any sort to pass between you. What I wish to say to you is this. -Because I will not consent to your marriage with this young Rossano, you -must not think that I wish to influence you or compel you to listen to -my brother. That would not be my idea of what is my duty towards you as -my husband's child, for whose happiness I am responsible, both before -God and before the world. You must understand that you are free, -Bianca, absolutely free to do as you choose as regards accepting or not -the affection my brother offers you. It may be, perhaps, that when you -are in a more reasonable frame of mind, and have realized that under no -circumstances would you be allowed to marry out of your own sphere in -life--and certainly not the son of an infidel professor, who, no doubt, -shares his father's abominable principles and ideas--you will hesitate -before throwing away my brother's love." - -Bianca shook her head. "It is useless to think of that," she said, "and -it is useless to tell me that under no circumstances shall I marry -Silvio Rossano. Unless one of us dies, I shall marry him. I have -nothing more to say than what I said yesterday, and nothing to unsay. -You ask me if I think you unkind. No; I do not think that." - -"Surely," exclaimed the princesse, almost wistfully--"surely you can -understand that in all this miserable business I am only doing what my -conscience tells me to be my duty towards you!" - -Bianca withdrew her hand. "Yes," she said; "I quite understand. I have -always understood." Then, wishing her step-mother good-night, she bent -down and kissed her, and passed into her own room, gently closing both -of the double set of doors which separated the two apartments. - -She had not been in bed long before sleep came to her, for she was, in -fact, more weary in body and mind than she had realized. For four or -five hours she slept soundly enough, but after that her slumbers became -disturbed by dreams. She dreamed that Silvio was near her, that she -could see him but could not speak to him, and that he had some message -for her, some letter which the Abbe Roux was trying to take from him. -In her sleep she seemed to hear strange noises and her own name called -softly at intervals. Suddenly she awoke with a start. A gleam of -moonlight was shining through the window-curtains and half-closed -_persiennes_. It made a broad track across the floor to the wall -opposite her bed, and fell on the face of a picture hanging near the -corner of the room--a portrait of that very Cardinal Acorari who had -caused the Renaissance palace to be added to the Montefiano fortress, in -order that he might have a villa in the Sabine Mountains in which to -pass the hot summer months away from Rome. The moonlight glanced upon -his scarlet robes and skull-cap and on his heavy countenance. Time had -caused the flesh colors to fade, and the full mouth, with the sensual -lips, looked unnaturally red against the waxy whiteness of the rest of -the face. - -Bianca lay and looked at the streak of moonlight on the floor. -Presently her gaze followed the track until it rested on the picture. -For some moments she looked at the portrait with a certain fascination. -She had never seen it in the moonlight before; it looked ghostly. She -had once seen a cardinal lying in state when she was a child, and the -sight had frightened her. She was not at all frightened now, for she -was no longer a child; but all the same, she could not take her eyes off -the picture. She found herself wondering what relation she was to that -old Cardinal Acorari--great-great-what? Granddaughter would not do, for -cardinals, of course, never had children; certainly not -cardinal-priests; and Cardinal Acorari had been bishop of Ostia and -cardinal vicar of Rome. - -Suddenly she sat up in her bed. Surely she had seen the face move? -Yes; it had certainly moved; it was quite ten centimetres more to the -right of the moonlight than it had been a moment ago. Now half the -features were in shadow, and the cardinal's _biretta_ was half red and -half black. _Sciocchezze_! Of course, it was the moon that had moved, -not the picture; or, rather, she supposed it was the earth that had -moved, or the sun! Something had moved, at any rate, but not the -cardinal. And smiling at her own stupidity, Bianca withdrew her gaze -from the picture, and, turning on her side, tried to compose herself to -sleep once more. But it soon became evident that sleep would not return -to her. She felt restless, and the night, too, was hot. Rising from her -bed, she threw a light wrap over her shoulders and went to one of the -windows, the curtains of which she drew gently aside; and then, taking -care not to make any noise that could be heard in the room beyond, she -opened the green _persiennes_ outside the window and leaned out. Not a -breath of air was stirring, and the September night was oppressively -warm. A silvery haze hung over the _macchia_ below the terrace, and far -away, under the encircling mountains, Bianca could see the wreaths of -mist rising in the valley of the Tiber. The two flanking wings of the -palace stood out cold and white in the moonlight, while the double -avenue of lofty cypresses on each side of the great night of stone steps -leading down from the terrace into the park looked black and sombre in -the nearer foreground. - -The splashing of a fountain in the centre of the avenue, and the -occasional cry of some bird, alone broke the intense stillness. Bianca -rested her arms on the ledge of the window, gazing out upon the scene -below her. The moonlight fell full upon her and glanced upon the tawny -gold of her hair. For some moments she remained immovable. Then, with -a gesture of passionate abandonment, she flung her white arms out into -the silver night. "Silvio!" she whispered; "Silvio, not one word? Ah, -my beloved, if you knew how I want you, if you knew the loneliness! Ah, -but I will be patient, I will be brave, for your sake and for my -own--only--_Dio!_--" She turned suddenly with a little cry. Surely she -had heard her own name again, spoken very softly from somewhere within -the room behind her. She looked hastily round, but could see nobody. -Only her own shadow fell across the floor in the moonlight. - -"_Eccellenza_! Donna Bianca!" - -Ah, this time she was not mistaken! It was her name she had heard -whispered, and the voice came from the cardinal's portrait. Bianca -started back. For a second or two she felt fear. If she could only see -the person who had called her, she would not be frightened, she was -certain of that. Gathering her wrap round her she came forward into the -room. - -"I am Bianca Acorari," she said, in a low, clear voice. "What do you -want with me, and how have you ventured to come here? Speak, or I will -call for help." - -"Ah, _per carita_! do not call--do not be afraid." - -"I am not afraid," interrupted Bianca Acorari, quietly. "Why should I be -afraid? Besides, it--you are a woman, are you not?" - -"_Eccellenza_--yes! It is I, Concetta Fontana, and I bring a message--a -letter. Ah, but I have been waiting for an hour before I dared speak. -I called you, but you were sleeping, and then, when I saw you at the -window, I was frightened--" - -The white face of Cardinal Acorari disappeared noiselessly into the -wall, and Concetta's form occupied its place. She carried in her hand a -small oil-lamp; and, balancing herself for an instant, she dropped -lightly down the three or four feet from where the picture had hung, to -the floor. - -Bianca rushed towards her. "Concetta!" she exclaimed. Then she tottered -a little, and, dropping into a chair, began to sob convulsively. - -In a moment Concetta was by her side and had thrown her arms round her. - -"For the love of God, _eccellenza_, do not cry!" she exclaimed. "Do not -make a sound--the princess--she might hear. Yes, it is -Concetta--Concetta who has brought you this--who will do anything for -you," and she thrust Silvio's packet into Bianca's hand. - -Bianca looked at it for a moment as if she scarcely understood her. -Then she tore it open eagerly. A smaller packet fell from it to the -floor, but Bianca let it lie there. Her eyes had caught sight of the -letter in which it was enclosed, and she wanted that and nothing else. -Hurriedly unfolding it, she darted to the window again and held the -closely written sheets to the moonlight. "Ah, Silvio!" she exclaimed, -"I knew, I knew!" - -Concetta, practically, lighted a candle, and waited in silence while -Bianca devoured the contents of her lover's letter. Every now and then -she cast anxious glances towards the princess's apartment. Then, when -Bianca had finished feverishly reading through the letter for the first -time and was about to begin it again, she stooped, and picking up the -packet from the floor, gave it to her. - -Bianca undid the paper, and, opening the little box inside, took out the -ring. - -"Ah, look!" she said. "Look what he sends me--his mother's ring! Look -how the diamonds sparkle in the moonlight, Concetta--and the -sapphire--how blue the sapphire is! Blue, like--" - -She stopped suddenly, and a hot wave of color mounted to her face. -Replacing the ring in its case, she thrust it and the letter into her -bosom. - -Then she turned to Concetta quickly. - -"How did you come here, and why should you do this thing for me?" she -asked, almost fiercely. "Are you sent to lay a trap for me? Speak!" - -Concetta Fontana flung herself upon her knees, and taking Bianca's hand, -covered it with kisses. "No, no," she exclaimed. "I have come because -my father sent me--my father and Don Agostino--because you are the -_padrona_--not--not that other one--the foreigner. _Eccellenza_, you -have no right to mistrust me. I swear to God that there is no deceit, -no trap. Nobody knows of the secret passage--only my father and I. My -father could not come here--in the dead of night--so I came." - -"The secret passage!" repeated Bianca, wonderingly. - -Concetta pointed to the hole in the wall where the cardinal's portrait -had been. "It is there," she said, "and it runs the whole length of the -_piano nobile_ and down into the entrance-court. See!" Going to the -aperture, she pressed a spring concealed in the groove, and slowly, -noiselessly, the picture of Cardinal Acorari glided back into its -original position. - -"I can come and go when I please," said Concetta, with a smile, "so the -_principessina_ is no longer a prisoner who cannot communicate with the -world outside. Oh, and there are those outside who mean to help -her--Don Agostino, and my father, and others besides. We will not have -our _padrona_ shut up in the castle of Montefiano to please a foreign -priest. _Sicuro!_ very soon--in a few days perhaps--the _principessina_ -will understand that she is at Montefiano--among her own people." - -Bianca scarcely heard Concetta Fontana's latter words. - -"Who is Don Agostino?" she asked, suddenly. "Silvio--this letter--says -that the packet will be brought or conveyed to me by Monsignor Lelli." - -"Don Agostino--Lelli--it is all one," replied Concetta. "He is our -_parroco_, _eccellenza_; and he is good, oh, he is good! If all priests -were like Don Agostino--_mah_!" - -Bianca took out her letter again. As yet she could hardly realize her -happiness. A few minutes ago she had felt utterly alone, almost without -hope, save the hope that her own courage and her trust in Silvio gave -her. Now the world seemed different. She had got her message from that -great world outside, which until just now had seemed so far away from -her own--that world where life and love were waiting for her. - -Suddenly she turned to Concetta and took both the girl's hands in hers. -"Forgive me," she said, softly; "I was wrong to doubt you, but I think I -have begun to suspect everybody lately. When one has once been -deceived, it is not easy to trust again." - -Concetta's eyes flashed. "Who has dared to deceive you, _signorina_?" -she asked, hastily. "Not--" she pointed to the letter Bianca was still -holding against her heart. - -Bianca smiled. "No, Concetta; ah, no, not he! How could he deceive me? -I was thinking of somebody else--somebody here at Montefiano. But it -does not matter. I do not care at all now. Indeed, I do not think that -I shall care about anything again. Ah, Concetta, some day you will know -that I am grateful for what you have done to-night. I shall not forget. -I shall ask you what I can do for you in return, when I am really -Principessina di Montefiano." - -Concetta looked at her quickly. "It will not be difficult to repay me," -she said; "but I don't want repayment, _eccellenza_; it is not for -repayment I mention it. But, some day, if you will remember that my -father has been dismissed from your service because he would not consent -to an injustice being done in your name to the people, that will be -repayment enough." - -Bianca started. "Of course!" she exclaimed. "I recollect. Your father -has been dismissed from his post, has he not? Well, when I have power -to recall him, he shall be recalled. It is enough for me to know that -he has been dismissed by Monsieur l'Abbe Roux to suspect that he has -been unjustly treated. But what do you mean by injustice to the people -done in my name, Concetta? I do not understand." - -Concetta hesitated. "You will understand very soon, perhaps," she -replied, mysteriously. "But do not be alarmed, _eccellenza_, it is not -you with whom the people are angry. They know you cannot help what is -being done, although it may be done in your name. _Basta!_ if you have -no further orders for me, I will go. It is nearly morning, and I have -been here too long. If the princess were to awake and think of coming -into your room--" - -"She never comes into my room after I have wished her good-night," said -Bianca, "and you must not go yet, Concetta--at least, not before I have -given you a letter which you will take back to Monsignor Lelli--Don -Agostino--for me. You will do that, will you not?" - -"_Altro_! But, _eccellenza_, do not be long writing your letter. If I -were to be found here--well--" and Concetta shrugged her shoulders -significantly. - -Bianca suddenly looked round the room in despair. "_Madonna mia!_" she -exclaimed, "I have nothing to write with--no ink or paper--only a little -pencil." - -"The pencil must serve for this time, _signorina_," said Concetta. -"To-morrow you can bring some writing-materials here and hide them in -the passage outside, for I will show you how to work the spring. -Anything you place in the passage is as if Domeneddio had it in his own -pocket. But for to-night write a few words on the blank half-sheet of -that letter you have, and early to-morrow morning I will give it myself -to Don Agostino." - -Bianca looked at her doubtfully. She was loath to part with even a -scrap of paper that had come from Silvio. But time pressed, and if she -did not return an immediate reply to his missive, Silvio would think it -had been intercepted. She sat down and wrote a few lines hurriedly, -and, folding up her half-sheet of paper, confided it to Concetta's -keeping. - -"You will tell Don Agostino that I shall send another letter to-morrow -by you," she said, "and you will thank him for all he is doing, -Concetta, from me. And tell him also that I shall write to him myself, -because--" - -She hesitated for a moment, then, drawing herself up, she looked -Concetta full in the face. "Because my future husband wishes me to do -so," she concluded, quietly. - -Concetta Fontana took her hand, and, raising it to her lips, kissed it. -"I will go to Don Agostino at seven o'clock this morning, before he says -his mass, and I will give him the letter. Ah, _signorina_, if the -Signorino Rossano is Don Agostino's friend, it is proof enough that, -speaking with respect, you have chosen your husband wisely. _Sicuro_! -Don Agostino is a good man. There are many at Montefiano who distrust -the priests; but there is nobody who does not trust Don Agostino. It is -I, Concetta, who say it to you--and I know. But look, _signorina_, the -dawn will soon be here. Let me go now--for who knows that her -excellency might not awake. You will not be frightened if you see the -picture move again? It will only be Concetta looking into the room to -make sure that you are alone." - -Bianca turned to her quickly. "Ah, Concetta," she exclaimed, "I am so -happy--you do not know how happy! And I shall not forget what you have -done for me--you will see that I shall not forget. Yes--go--go! I am -not alone any longer now." - -Concetta lifted up a chair and placed it under the picture. Then, -standing upon it, she pressed the spring concealed behind the heavy, -carved frame, and slowly, noiselessly, the portrait of Cardinal Acorari -slid back into the wall. Another moment, and Concetta was standing in -the aperture where the painted panel had been. "Sleep well now, -_signorina_," she whispered to Bianca, "and do not be afraid. There are -those watching that no harm shall come to you at Montefiano." - -She drew back into the passage as she spoke, pressing the corresponding -spring on the other side of the wall as she did so; and once more the -cardinal looked down on Bianca from the spot where Concetta had been -standing but an instant before. - -Bianca gazed at the picture for a few moments, and listened for any -faint echo of Concetta's footsteps. Not the slightest sound was audible -from the passage. Only the twittering of waking birds came through the -open window; and Bianca, turning away, went again to it and leaned out. -A faint breeze was stirring the trees in the macchia below the terrace, -and the drooping tops of the cypresses were swaying softly. The moon -was sinking behind the lofty ridges of Soracte, and away in the east the -violet sky of night was already streaked with the first pale messengers -heralding the coming of the dawn. - -And Bianca leaned from the window and watched till the pearly whiteness -in the eastern sky deepened into rose red; till the wreaths of mist -floating away from the valley of the Tiber rose, and, clinging to the -mountain-sides, glided slowly upward till they caught the first golden -rays of the yet hidden sun. - -From the woodland below came the distant notes of a reed-pipe, and then -a boy's voice singing one of the strange minor cadences learned, -probably, centuries ago of slaves from the East, and sung still by the -peasants and shepherds of the Latin province. In the present instance, -Bianca knew that the lad was no shepherd--for the sheep had not yet been -brought down from the higher pastures--but that he was engaged in the -less poetical occupation of tending pigs. - -As she watched, a wave of golden light seemed to spread over the face of -the landscape below her, and the sun rose. And Bianca Acorari flung out -her arms once more; this time not in doubt and almost in despair, but in -a passion of joy, thankfulness, and love. - - - - - *XXVI* - - -The Caffe Garibaldi, which was situated in the main street of -Montefiano--a street that bore, as a matter of course, the name of Corso -Vittorio Emanuele--was doing an unusually brisk business. At each -little marble-topped table a group of excited men was sitting, each -member of which was talking at the top of his voice. Nobody was -listening to his neighbor; but then, as all the world knows, there are -occasions when no Italian ever does listen to his neighbor during a -discussion; the whole aim and object of each speaker being to talk the -other down. A considerable amount of wine was being drunk, and some of -it was new wine, the process of fermentation being scarcely over. No -doubt this fact accounted for much of the heat with which the sole topic -of conversation in the Caffe Garibaldi that evening was being discussed. -There was an argument, indeed, and, taking into consideration the number -of half-litres consumed and the quality of at any rate a large -proportion of the wine, it was perhaps as well that everybody was of the -same opinion, though each strove to express that opinion more forcibly -than his companion. A difference on the main issue in question would -have certainly led to quarrels, and quarrels would as likely as not have -resulted in the flow of other liquid than Stefano Mazza's red wine at -eight _soldi_ the litre. - -In a room at the back of the _caffe_--a room wherein was to be found the -solitary billiard-table in Montefiano, and where the choicer and more -exclusive elements of Montefianese society were wont to gather--the -conversation was as animated and scarcely less noisy than in the portion -communicating directly with the street bearing the name of the Re -Galantuomo. - -Stefano Mazza, the host, was himself attending to the wants of his -clients in this more select part of his premises; and Stefano Mazza was -a person of considerable weight in Montefiano, not only bodily but, what -was far more important, socially. The _sindaco_ of Montefiano himself, -with all the importance of bureaucracy at his back, was not so -influential a man as Stefano Mazza; for Mazza, so to speak, held the -_sindaco_ in the hollow of his hand, as he did a very considerable -proportion of the _sindaco's_ municipal councillors and of the -inhabitants of Montefiano generally. There were few, very few of the -Montefianesi, from officials to peasants, whose signatures to certain -pieces of paper bearing the government stamp and setting forth that the -signatories were in his debt to amounts ranging from thousands to tens -of _lire_, Stefano did not possess. He was, in short, the money-lender, -not only to Montefiano, but to a considerable portion of the -agricultural district surrounding it, and, as such, his opinion on most -questions was listened to with unfailing respect by all members of the -community. - -On the whole, _strozzino_ though he was, Stefano was neither an unjust -nor a hard man. To be sure, he charged a six-per-cent. interest for the -money he loaned; but he was content with getting this interest and never -departed from his conditions. He had been known to wait for his money, -too, when, owing to bad seasons, some of his poorer clients were unable -to pay their interest at the proper dates. The consequence was that Sor -Stefano was regarded by his neighbors of all degrees as a personage with -whom it was to their advantage to stand well; the more so as even the -most prosperous among them could never tell when they might not want to -borrow his money, or renew a bill for money already advanced by him. - -A sudden hail-storm which would devastate the crops or the vineyards in -the space of a few minutes; an unfortunate season with the lambs or the -pigs; a failure with the maize or the grain--and it was as likely as not -that Sor Stefano's assistance would have to be sought in order to tide -over the winter months; and often, too, in order to have the rent ready -for Sor Beppe, the _fattore_, when he should come to collect it. - -It was certain, therefore, that nobody, not excepting Sor Beppe himself, -was so thoroughly acquainted with the financial conditions of the -tenants on the Montefiano estates as Stefano Mazza, the proprietor of -the Caffe Garibaldi. Moreover, Sor Stefano and Sor Beppe were good and -intimate friends, as their fathers had been before them. Sor Stefano, -indeed, had recently stood by the _fattore_ on more than one occasion, -when, after the rents had been farmed out to the new lessee, Sor Beppe -had been compelled to obey instructions from Rome and increase them, -thereby incurring the dislike of the small holders, who not unnaturally -regarded him as the primary cause of the extra burden laid upon them. - -The news of Sor Beppe's dismissal from the office of _fattore_ had -stirred public opinion in and around Montefiano to its depths. -Notwithstanding its Corso Vittorio Emanuele, its Via Giordano Bruno, and -other outward and visible signs of a desire to tread the path of -independence and liberty, Montefiano was conservative enough in -maintaining its own traditions, and in not welcoming any changes in the -order of things to which it had become accustomed. For five-and-twenty -years Sor Beppe had been _fattore_ at Montefiano to Casa Acorari; while, -for fifty years before he succeeded to the post, it had been occupied by -Sor Pompilio, his father. This fact was in itself sufficient to cause -the news that another _fattore_ was to be appointed in the place of -Giuseppe Fontana to be received with astonishment and not a little -indignation. - -When it became known, however, that Sor Beppe had been dismissed because -he had flatly declined to obey instructions of the administration in -Rome to raise the rents of certain small holdings without laying the -matter personally before the princess, popular indignation had increased -until it became a deep and bitter anger. As Sor Beppe had pointed out -to Don Agostino, it had been generally known in Montefiano for some time -that the _principessa's_ foreign priest was practically the head of the -administration to the Eccellentissima Casa Acorari; and during the last -few weeks, since the sudden arrival at the castle of the princess and -the Principessina Bianca, rumor had insisted that the new _affittuario_ -of the Montefiano estate was no other than the priest himself. If this -were not so, it was argued, why did the new _affittuario_ never show -himself in the flesh, and why did the foreign _monsignore_ make a point -of personally examining every holding on the property? But that Sor -Beppe should be dismissed from a post that he had honorably filled for -five-and-twenty years because he would not lend himself to furthering -this interloper's schemes for enriching himself at the expense of the -poor, and of the good name of Casa Acorari, was an abominable thing. -Men and women had talked of nothing else in the streets of the _paese_ -during the day, and at night the men flocked to the Caffe Garibaldi to -hear what Sor Stefano and the more influential members of the community -might have to say on the subject. - -It was evident that these worthies had much to say; and, like their -inferiors in the social scale of Montefiano, they said it loudly and -decidedly. Such a thing could not be tolerated; and the voice of the -majority was in favor of forming a deputation that should wait upon -their excellencies at the castle and point out to them the injustice of -Sor Beppe's dismissal, and the ill-feeling among the peasants that -insistence on the raising of their rents would infallibly produce. -There was, indeed, a secondary motive in the minds of those who, headed -by Sor Stefano, had suggested the expediency of a deputation. For some -little time mysterious rumors had circulated in Montefiano--rumors of -which the Principessina Bianca was the central object. It was whispered, -especially among the women, that there was something going on in the -castle that was not satisfactory; that the _principessina_ had been -brought to Montefiano because she wanted to marry a _bel giovane_ in -Rome, whose only fault was that he had not a title; that instead of -being allowed to marry the man she loved she was being forced to receive -the attentions of the princess's brother--a worn-out foreign baron, old -enough to be the poor child's father. It was insisted that the -Principessina Bianca was unhappy, that she was practically a prisoner, -and that the priest was at the bottom of it all. Who circulated these -stories among the women, Sor Stefano knew perfectly well. It was certain -that they became more definite from day to day, and that by degrees a -very wide-spread feeling of suspicion had been aroused among all classes -at Montefiano that the Principessina Bianca was being made the victim of -an intrigue on the part of her step-mother's foreign advisers to possess -themselves both of her person and her estates. - -Why, it was asked, was the _principessina_ never seen? The very few -people who had happened to see her at the castle had come away full of -enthusiasm concerning her beauty and her kindness of manner. When it -became known that Sor Beppe had been dismissed, these stories had been -repeated with greater insistence than ever. Probably the women had -determined to excite the compassion and indignation of their menkind on -the _principessina's_ behalf; for several of the leading peasants and -small farmers in and around Montefiano had openly talked of going to the -castle and demanding an interview with the Principessina Donna Bianca, -in order to see for themselves whether their young _padrona_ were in -reality exposed to the treatment they suspected. - -It was in order to consult together concerning the suggested deputation -that the leading spirits of Montefiano had assembled at the Caffe -Garibaldi that evening. Notwithstanding the noise, and the totally -irrelevant side issues raised by many of his customers, it was clear to -Stefano Mazza that the general consensus of public opinion was on his -side. The dismissal of Sor Beppe should not be allowed to pass without -a protest being made to the _principessa_ in person; and at the same -time it should be clearly conveyed to her that any _fattore_ who should -be appointed to succeed Sor Beppe would find his task by no means easy, -inasmuch as the people would with truth conclude that he had been sent -to Montefiano to carry out changes which were obnoxious and unjust. Sor -Stefano, anxious to please all parties, had further suggested that the -deputation in question should insist upon the Principessina Bianca being -present when its members were received by her step-mother. Her -presence, he pointed out, would enable the representatives of the -Montefiano people to ascertain whether Donna Bianca was or was not aware -of what was being done in her name, whether it was true that she was -merely a victim of the unscrupulous designs of this Belgian priest, and -of another stranger who was, to all intents and purposes, her uncle. -Donna Bianca Acorari was their legitimate _padrona_, the daughter and -heiress of the princes of Montefiano; and as such her own people at -Montefiano had a right to approach her and hear from her own lips -whether all that was said concerning her was truth or fiction. - -It was late that night when the Caffe Garibaldi put out its lights and -barred its doors after the last of Sor Stefano's clients had left the -premises. The chief point under discussion during the evening had been -settled, however, and it was unanimously decided that a deputation, -headed by the _sindaco_ and Sor Stefano, should send a letter to the -castle requesting to be received by the princess and the Principessina -Donna Bianca. Perhaps the _sindaco_ of Montefiano was the only one to -display some hesitation as to the advisability of the course determined -upon. He had no desire to compromise himself by lending his official -sanction to any movement which might end in disturbance and in possible -collision with the civil authorities. It was impossible to foretell -what might take place were the princess and her adviser to oppose the -wishes of the already suspicious and excited peasants, and refuse to -entertain the objections of the deputation to the dismissal of the -_fattore_, Giuseppe Fontana. The _avvocato_ Ricci, _syndic_ of -Montefiano, like many other petty Italian lawyers, nourished an ambition -to enter political life as a means whereby to fill his empty pockets at -the expense of those who might send him to join the large number of his -fellow-lawyers in the Chamber of Deputies. It was a somewhat exalted -ambition, no doubt; but the _avvocato_ Ricci, after all, was in no more -obscure a position than many another local attorney now calling himself -_onorevole_ and making the best of his opportunities as a deputy to rob -with both hands, until such time as he should either be made a minister -of state or fail to be re-elected by a disillusioned constituency. - -It would certainly not add to his prospects were he, as _sindaco_ of -Montefiano, to compromise himself with the authorities of the Home -Office in Rome for the sake of some discontented peasants in his -commune, and he had already done his best that evening to throw cold -water on Sor Stefano's suggestions, and to dissociate himself from any -part in the movement in question. A few words, however, spoken in his -ear by Stefano Mazza, conveying a gentle but pointed allusion to certain -bills, more than once renewed which Sor Stefano happened to have in his -keeping, had effectually silenced the _sindaco_ Ricci's official -objections to making one of the proposed deputation to the castle. - -The gathering at the Caffe Garibaldi had taken place on the very evening -of Concetta Fontana's delivery to Bianca Acorari of her lover's missive. -Concetta, indeed, knew well enough that the meeting was to take place, -and also what its object was. As a matter of fact, it was largely, if -not entirely, owing to her that public interest in Montefiano had been -aroused concerning the motives for the Principessina Bianca's -confinement--for so Concetta had not hesitated to qualify it--in the -castle and the park behind the castle. She had let fall mysterious -hints as to what she had seen and heard during the hours she was -employed in helping the _principessina's_ maid in mending the linen and -in other household duties; and her tales had certainly not lost in the -telling during the long summer evenings when the women of the _paese_ -had little to do but to sit and gossip outside their doors. - -Doubtless, like most gossip, the stories woven round Concetta Fontana's -suggestion would soon have been replaced by others of closer interest. -The premature appearance of the baker's baby, which had upset the ideas -of Don Agostino's house-keeper as to the fitness of things, had been for -some days relegated to an altogether secondary place; nor would the men -have paid much attention to the tales told them by their womenkind of -the treatment to which the Principessina Bianca was being subjected, had -it not been for Sor Beppe's sudden dismissal from office. It needed very -little to impress upon the farmers and peasantry on the _latifondo_ -belonging to Casa Acorari that the latter circumstance was in direct -connection with the former; and that it had evidently been found -necessary to get rid of Giuseppe Fontana and replace him by another -agent who would be nothing more nor less than a tool in the hands of the -foreign priest who had already persuaded the princess to consent to -their rents being materially increased. It must be confessed that -Concetta Fontana had lost no opportunity of duly impressing her friends -and acquaintances with this plausible explanation of the reasons which -had led to her father's dismissal. She had conceived an enthusiastic -devotion to the Principessina Bianca almost from the first moment she -had seen her and Bianca had spoken a few kindly words to her. This -devotion had been further increased by realizing the loneliness of the -girl's position, by sympathy with her for her enforced separation from -the man she wished to marry, as well as by the discovery that Bianca was -being exposed to the joint intrigues of Monsieur d'Antin and the Abbe -Roux. The thought that her young _padrona_ had need of her devotion had -kindled Concetta's sense of loyalty, in which, as in that of her father, -there was much that was nothing short of feudal feeling for the young -head of the house of the Acorari of Montefiano. - -Concetta, however, could hardly be blamed if, in addition to her genuine -desire to rescue Bianca Acorari from the fate into which she felt -convinced that Baron d'Antin and the Abbe Roux were trying to force her, -she hoped at the same time to benefit her father and bring about his -reinstatement. Sor Beppe had been, as it were, stunned by the suddenness -of the blow which had fallen upon him. As he had said to Don Agostino, -he was too old for transplantation. The interests of Casa Acorari had -been his interests ever since he could remember. However unsatisfactory -the late Principe di Montefiano might have been in other relations of -life--however neglectful he might have been of the fact that he was -taking all he could get out of his properties and was putting nothing -into them again--he had always been a just and considerate landlord -towards the people of the place from which he took his principal title, -and which had been the cradle of his race. - -It was the thought of how the late Prince Montefiano would have -disapproved of the course taken by the Abbe Roux, and by the so-called -administration of the affairs of Casa Acorari, that made the injustice -of his dismissal all the harder for Sor Beppe to bear. If he had -received his dismissal at the hands of the Principessina Bianca, it -would have been bad enough; but to receive it from foreigners who, as he -more than suspected, were only bent upon filling their own pockets -during the _principessina's_ minority, was altogether intolerable. The -sympathy which had been shown him in the _paese_, and the general -indignation aroused by the facts which had led to his dismissal had -certainly been very pleasant to Sor Beppe's wounded feelings. He had -made no secret of his conviction that so soon as the Principessina -Bianca had the control of her affairs he would be reinstated, and public -opinion in Montefiano quickly exonerated Donna Bianca Acorari from all -responsibility in the matter. That such a thing had happened was, in -the eyes of the Montefianesi, only a further proof of the bad foreign -influence by which their young princess was surrounded. - -Sor Beppe had carefully abstained from going to the Caffe Garibaldi that -evening. It was his custom to spend an hour or two there on most -nights, taking a hand at _tresette_ or playing a game of billiards. He -was aware, of course, of the discussion that was to take place on that -particular evening, and it certainly would not have been seemly for him -to be present. Moreover, there was no reason to suppose that his cause -would suffer by his absence from the gathering. He knew that his -friend, Stefano Mazza, would take care that this was not the case. - -So, Sor Beppe had taken the opportunity of paying an evening visit to -Don Agostino. He had attempted to see him immediately after his -interview with the princess, when he had learned that she declined to -interfere in his dismissal, but Don Agostino had already departed for -Rome. After leaving Don Agostino, Sor Beppe had returned to his own set -of rooms in the castle--the home of so many years, which he would now -have to leave--and he had found Concetta awaiting him. The girl had -required no pressing to deliver the packet Don Agostino had intrusted to -her father. She had many times, she told him, wished to go to the -_principessina_ and offer to take some message for her to her lover--oh, -many times, if only to spite the baron and Monsieur l'Abbe, who thought -they had laid their plans so well. But she had not dared to take the -liberty. Now, of course, she had an excuse; and if Don Agostino was -interesting himself in the _principessina's_ love-affairs, it was -certainly a proof that the young man was worthy of her. - -And Sor Beppe had accompanied Concetta to the disused room next to the -entrance-gate of the castle, where he kept his firewood and his coke, -and had seen her pass through the trap-door and mount the narrow stone -steps leading into the secret passage above. Then he had awaited her -return, not without some misgivings at the length of time which elapsed -before he saw her reappear. - -Concetta returned from her expedition flushed and excited, and, indeed, -very nearly weeping. Her voice trembled as she recounted all that had -passed between the _principessina_ and herself; how she had watched the -_principessina_ standing at the window of her room, and had heard her -cry to her absent lover; and how the poor child had seemed almost dazed -when she gave her the packet, and had then broken down and cried in her, -Concetta's, arms. - -She told her father how the _principessina_ was aware of his dismissal, -but evidently knew nothing of the raising of the rents and his refusal -to further acts of injustice, committed nominally in her interests; and -how she had declared that, when she had the power to do so, she would -reinstate him. - -Sor Beppe listened attentively. "She is her father's daughter," he -said, when Concetta had concluded, "and she will not allow her people to -be wronged." - -Concetta's eyes flashed. "And we," she exclaimed--"we will not allow -her to be wronged! _Vedete_, it is not the princess, she wants to do -her duty by the _principessina_--oh, I have heard that a hundred times -from the maid, Bettina. It is the Abbe Roux. He makes the princess -believe that her duty is to force the poor girl to do what he wants. -But he will go too far, and then we shall see is it not true, Babbo?" - -Sor Beppe nodded. "He has gone too far already," he said. "Listen, -Concetta: the peasants are angry--very angry; and not the peasants only, -but also those who are more highly placed than they. There will -certainly be trouble if the increase in the rents is insisted upon. -Moreover, they suspect something, some foul play towards the -_principessina_, and it is as likely as not that there will be a -demonstration. Well, if there is, and the Abbe Roux, as you call him, -attempts to carry out his plans, I would not answer for the -consequences. They are patient, our people--very patient; but when -their patience is exhausted, they are not easy to manage. Why, in the -Castelli Romani, a few years ago, at Genzano and Ariccia, the peasants -held their own against the soldiers, and got what they wanted, too--but -there was blood spilled in the getting of it." - -Concetta Fontana glanced at her father quickly. - -"Do I not know it?" she replied. "Yes, the people are angry. Well, let -them be angry. Perhaps, if there is a demonstration, the princess will -understand that there is something wrong, and Monsieur l'Abbe will be -frightened. But the _principessina_ will not be frightened, I am sure of -that. She will know that it is only her own people, who will not be -ruled by strangers. To-day we shall know what has happened at the Caffe -Garibaldi," and Concetta smiled with a satisfied air. "As to the Abbe -Roux--" she added. - -"Curse the _pretaccio_!" growled Sor Beppe, under his breath. - -"He would be wiser to return to Rome," concluded Concetta, "if he does -not want to take _delle belle bastonate_ some fine day!" - - - - - *XXVII* - - -Punctually at half-past seven on the morning after Sor Beppe's nocturnal -visit to him, Don Agostino, robed in his vestments and accompanied by a -small but sturdy acolyte, who was to act as server at the low mass he -was about to celebrate, emerged from the sacristy of his church and -ascended the steps of one of the side altars. The attendance was not -large, the congregation consisting of a few peasant women and two old -men; for the day was not a _festa_, and, consequently, the population of -Montefiano was pursuing its usual occupations in the _paese_, or in the -fields and vineyards beyond it. - -As Don Agostino, after having arranged the sacred vessels and adjusted -the markers in the missal to the proper pages, turned from the altar to -commence the opening portion of the mass, his quick eyes fell upon -Concetta Fontana, who was kneeling in the body of the church some little -way behind the group of women gathered round the marble balustrade in -front of the altar. It could not be said that Concetta was a frequent -attendant at the half-past seven o'clock mass, and her presence had -already excited whispered comments among the rest of the congregation, -who had at once recognized Sor Beppe's daughter. - -The mass over, Don Agostino retired to the sacristy again to disrobe, -and thither, after a few minutes had elapsed, Concetta Fontana followed -him. Don Agostino was not surprised to see her. Indeed, he had risen -earlier than usual that morning in expectation of a visit either from -Fontana or his daughter. He had spent an hour or two in his garden -tying up refractory branches of his rose-trees and generally attending -to the needs of his fellow-beings of the vegetable world--for it was one -of Agostino's theories that any form of life was an attribute of the God -whom he worshipped as a God of sympathy and of love, and he regarded his -trees and his flowers as sentient beings who had a right to his -tenderness and care. It was certainly not a theory of which he spoke in -the world; but then most of us who are not content with looking only at -the binding of God's book of life probably have our little intimate -thoughts and theories which, knowing our world, we are prudent enough to -keep for our own use and enjoyment, and, perhaps, as stepping-stones on -the path we have to tread. - -Concetta waited until she and Don Agostino were alone in the sacristy, -and then she gave him the folded sheet of paper that Bianca Acorari had -intrusted to her. - -"To-morrow," she said, "the _principessina_ will send another letter by -me. There were no writing-materials in her room, so she could only send -a few lines, which your reverence will no doubt forward to their -destination." - -Don Agostino took the paper and placed it carefully in his pocket-book. -"I shall send it to the Signorino Rossano to-day," he replied. "Donna -Bianca need have no fear of its not reaching him safely. So you took -the packet to her last night?" he continued. "You had no difficulty in -giving it into Donna Bianca's own hands?" - -Concetta quickly related to him all that had passed between Bianca and -her the night before. "And I was to tell your reverence," she -concluded, "from the _principessina_, that she would write to you -herself, because her _fidanzato_ wished her to do so. Ah, but you -should have seen the proud way the _principessina_ drew herself up and -looked--a look that a queen might give--when she spoke of her -_fidanzato_!" - -Don Agostino glanced at her with a smile. "You will be faithful to the -_principessina_, _figlia mia_?" he asked. "She needs friends, the poor -child." - -"Faithful to her!" exclaimed Concetta. "I would do anything--anything, -for the _principessina_. Imagine if I was glad when my father came home -last night and told me I must take her the packet you had given him. I -had wanted to go to her, and to tell her that I would do anything she -bade me--oh, so often! But how could I venture? Besides, I was afraid -of frightening her if I appeared in her room from the cardinal's -portrait." - -"But she was not frightened?" Don Agostino asked. - -"_Niente affatto!_" returned Concetta, emphatically. "It was I who was -frightened when I saw her leaning out of the window in the moonlight and -calling to her lover. I feared she might be walking in her sleep, and -that she might throw herself down on the terrace. Ah, but she knows now -that there are those who are ready to help her--and she will know it -better in a few days' time." - -Don Agostino looked at her. "How do you mean? Why should she know it -better in a few days than she does now?" he asked. - -Concetta pursed up her lips. "She will know it," she repeated, "and so -will the principessa and the Abbe Roux. I am nothing--only a woman--but -there are men who will help her--all Montefiano, if it comes to that." - -Don Agostino looked at her with greater attention. He had already heard -through Ernana something concerning the ill-feeling the dismissal of Sor -Beppe had aroused in Montefiano; and something, too, of the part the -Abbe Roux was supposed to have played in bringing about the _fattore's_ -dismissal. - -"What do you mean?" he repeated. "You may speak openly to me, _figlia -mia_," he continued, "for I also would do all I could to help Donna -Bianca Acorari and to protect her from any evil designs against her. -Moreover, Donna Bianca's _fidanzato_ is my friend, and his father and I -have been friends for many years. After all, it is I, is it not, who -have asked your father to convey that packet to the _principessina_? -And he told me of the means whereby it might be conveyed." - -Concetta started. "Ah! he told you of the passage?" she exclaimed. - -"Certainly," replied Don Agostino. "So you see," he added, "I am aware -that it is possible to communicate with Donna Bianca without the fact -being known to those who are trying to isolate her from the outer world. -If you have the _principessina's_ welfare at heart, as I am sure that -you have, you will take me entirely into your confidence, will you not?" - -Concetta nodded. "I know nothing for certain as yet," she said, after -hesitating for a moment, "but the people are angry, _reverendo_, very -angry." - -"Yes, I have heard something of that," said Don Agostino, as Concetta -paused. "They are angry at the rents having been raised, and at your -father's having been dismissed for his opposition to the increase. But -his dismissal has nothing to do with Donna Bianca's position, and the -people's anger will not help her, so far as I can see." - -"Ah, but it will help her," replied Concetta, eagerly. "They are angry -about the rents and about my father, that is true; but they are also -indignant at the way in which the _principessina_ is shut up and not -allowed to see anybody. They have heard that she is in love with -somebody whom she is forbidden to see any more, and that the princess's -brother wants to force her to marry him instead. And they have put the -dots upon the i's, and believe that the foreign priest is at the bottom -of the whole affair. You must remember, _reverendo_, that we -Montefianesi look upon the _principessina_ as our _padrona_. We do not -want foreigners to interfere between us and the Principessina Bianca." - -"I understand that perfectly well," Don Agostino observed, quietly. -"But how do the Montefianesi propose to remedy matters? After all, -Donna Bianca is a minor, and as such she is not yet her own mistress; -nor," he added, "can her people here, however devoted to her they may -be, make her so." - -"But they can make the _principessa_ get rid of those who are advising -her badly," said Concetta. "I do not know what has been decided," she -continued, lowering her voice, "but last night there was a meeting at -the Caffe Garibaldi. Of course, my father would not be present, for it -was his dismissal that they were by way of discussing--that and the -raising of the rents. But I am certain that they will have talked about -other things besides these; and I know that Sor Stefano meant to propose -that a deputation should go to the princess and insist on the rents -being lowered to their original amount, and on my father being retained -as _fattore_." - -"Precisely," interrupted Don Agostino. "But in what way will Donna -Bianca be helped by all this talk? That is what I do not understand, -_figlia mia_." - -Concetta directed a shrewd glance at him. "In this way," she replied, -"Sor Stefano--oh, and many others, too--intend to see the Principessina -Bianca herself, and to explain to her that she and nobody else is -_padrona_ at Montefiano, and that they will hear from her own lips, when -they have explained matters to her, whether what has been done in her -name has her approval or not. This they will do, _reverendo_, not -because they do not understand that the _principessina_ is still a -child, so to speak, but because they intend Monsieur l'Abbe and the -baron to understand that their schemes are known and will not be -tolerated. _Mi spiego reverendo_?" - -Don Agostino's face flushed and his eyes sparkled with an unusual -excitement. - -"Do you explain yourself?" he said, repeating Concetta's last words. -"Certainly, you explain yourself very well. Ah, if your Montefianesi do -that, they will, indeed, be helping their _padrona_." - -He paused suddenly, and his countenance became grave and preoccupied. - -"And this deputation to the princess," he said, presently--"does your -father know of the proposal?" - -"Certainly he knows of it," answered Concetta; "but naturally," she -added, "he can take no part in it. It is Sor Stefano who will be at the -head of it, or perhaps the _sindaco_--oh, and representatives chosen by -the _contadini_. And you, _reverendo_, you will surely be asked to join -it as the _parroco_. _Sicuro!_ it will all have been settled last -night; but as yet I have seen nobody, for until I had delivered the -_principessina's_ letter, as I promised her I would do, I could not be -easy in my mind." - -Don Agostino's expression remained grave and thoughtful. That the people -of Montefiano should resent the interference of the Abbe Roux in their -relations with Casa Acorari was certainly natural, and might in the end -turn out to be a good thing for both Donna Bianca and Silvio. But Don -Agostino well knew the danger that must attend any demonstration of -hostility towards the princess and her advisers on the part of the -peasants. Such demonstrations were apt unexpectedly to assume serious -proportions. If the enraged _contadini_ felt that they had the moral -support of men like Sor Stefano, they might easily lose their heads, -and, should their demands be refused, attempt to enforce them by -measures which would necessitate the intervention of the civil -authorities, if not of the military. What military intervention too -frequently ended in, Don Agostino was fully aware, and he felt every -effort should be made to prevent the threatened demonstration assuming -any attitude that might furnish an excuse for obtaining it. - -The question was, whether Princess Montefiano would consent to receive -this deputation, and to hear what its members had to say. Her decision -would evidently be inspired by the Abbe Roux, and the abbe's recent -action in causing the rents to be increased, and in the dismissal of an -old, popular official for venturing to oppose that increase, convinced -Don Agostino that the foreign priest, as the Abbe Roux was called, did -not understand the character of the people he was attempting to rule. - -Don Agostino's experience of human nature made him at once realize the -danger of a misunderstanding on either side, in the present condition of -public opinion in Montefiano. The abbe might easily underrate the force -of that opinion and persuade the princess to decline to listen to, or -even to receive a deputation formed to protest against his policy. If -he were so to persuade Princess Montefiano, the situation would -infallibly become critical, and very likely perilous. All would then -depend on whether the Abbe Roux had the nerve and the tact to deal with -it, or whether he would oblige the princess to appeal to the authorities -to suppress the demonstration. In this latter case a collision would -become inevitable; and it was this collision between his people--for was -he not their _parroco_?--and the authorities, that Don Agostino was -determined to use all his influence to avert. - -Concetta Fontana watched his countenance, as for a few moments Don -Agostino stood, apparently deep in thought. - -"You would join the deputation, _reverendo_, would you not?" she asked -him, presently. - -Don Agostino hesitated. - -"It depends," he replied. "You see, _figlia mia_," he continued, "we -must be careful that in trying to do good we do not bring about a great -deal of harm and unhappiness. I should like to talk with your father, -and to-day I will go to see Stefano Mazza. The _contadini_ are within -their rights--I do not deny that--and a grave injustice has been done, -both to them and to your father. _Sicuro!_ they are in the right, but -it should be the duty of those who have influence to prevent them from -doing anything to put themselves in the wrong. Yes, tell your father -that I should like to see him to-day. At _mezzogiorno_ he will find a -place ready for him if he likes to come to breakfast. We could talk -afterwards--while Ernana is washing the dishes. You will go to see -Donna Bianca again--as you did last night, will you not? You will tell -her that her letter goes to-day to her _fidanzato_, and that he will -receive it to-morrow morning in Rome. And you will tell her, also, that -I am awaiting the letter she is going to write to me; and when I have -it, I will answer her. In the mean time, _figlia mia_, be prudent--if -you wish to serve the Principessina Bianca. You and your father have -influence with the people--they wish you well. Talk to the women. It -is the women who can often lead the men--is it not? Anything that is -done must be done cautiously, moderately. There must be no folly--no -threats employed in order to enforce demands that in themselves are -just. You must tell the women that I, Don Agostino, will support all -that is done to obtain justice in a just way--but I will not countenance -any measures that may provoke disorder, and perhaps violence. Now go, -_figlia mia_, and give my message to your father this morning--and to -the Principessina Bianca when you think it safe to go again to her -apartment." - -And Don Agostino, opening the door of the sacristy, accompanied Concetta -through the empty church, and then returned to his own house, and to his -morning coffee which Ernana always prepared for him after he had said -his early mass. - - - - - *XXVIII* - - -Silvio Rossano had quite made up his mind that some days must in all -probability elapse before Don Agostino might be able to find a safe -opportunity of conveying the letter and ring he had intrusted to him to -Bianca. When, therefore, he found on his table, on returning to Palazzo -Acorari as usual for breakfast, a notice from the post-office informing -him that a registered packet addressed to him was lying at the central -office, he did not suppose for a moment that the said packet had come -from Montefiano. Indeed, it was not until late in the afternoon that he -went to San Silvestro in order to get the packet, as he had some work to -do at home which he was anxious to complete. His heart gave a sudden -leap when he recognized Don Agostino's handwriting on the registered -envelope. The arcade running round the court-yard and garden of palms -at San Silvestro, thronged as it was with people asking for their -correspondence at the _poste-restante_, with soldiers and men of -business, priests and peasants, was certainly not the place to -investigate the contents of Don Agostino's missive, which would scarcely -have been registered had the contents not been important. - -Silvio hurried out of the building, and, crossing the Corso, plunged -into the comparative quiet of the little side streets behind -Montecitorio, where he eagerly tore open the sealed envelope. There -were only a few lines written by Don Agostino himself, and Silvio, -hastily glancing at them, gathered that he had had an opportunity of -sending the letter and ring to Bianca Acorari by a safe hand, and that -her reply was enclosed. He added that he should write more fully in a -day or two, by which time he believed he should have something of -importance to communicate. - -Bianca's letter, too, was short and hastily written in pencil on a -half-sheet of paper that Silvio recognized as having been torn from his -own lengthy epistle to her. Brief as this letter was, however, it told -him much that he was longing to know, and, indeed, repeated Bianca's -words to him in the garden of the Villa Acorari, with which she had -vowed that she would marry nobody if she did not marry him. But what -set his mind at ease more than anything else was her assurance that -means of communication were open to them. Bianca did not explain what -these means were, but told him that she would write him a long letter -the following day, and that he also could continue to write to her under -cover to Monsignor Lelli, as there was now no danger of his letters -being intercepted. This, at least, was a comforting piece of news, and -Silvio wondered how it had come about that Don Agostino had been able to -so quickly find the necessary channel of communication. It was scarcely -likely, he reflected, that Don Agostino would venture to go himself to -the castle at Montefiano after having been seen by Monsieur d'Antin in -his company. - -He returned to Palazzo Acorari full of hope, and in better spirits than -he had been for many a day. The uncertainty of the last few weeks had -begun to tell upon him; and at the same time his complete separation -from Bianca Acorari had only increased his love, and had made him more -determined than ever to defeat the machinations of those who were trying -to break down Bianca's love for him. The first thing to be done was to -write to Bianca. She would be expecting to hear from him again, and to -know that he had received her pencilled note safely. Silvio shut -himself in his room and proceeded to write an epistle longer, if -anything, than that he had confided to Don Agostino. The contents were -much the same as the contents of other love-letters, and scarcely likely -to be of interest to any one except himself and the person to whom they -were addressed. Of course, he longed to see her again; and he implored -her not to lose any opportunity of allowing him to do so that could be -seized upon without risk to herself. He could always, he explained to -her, come to Montefiano at any moment, and Monsignor Lelli doubtless -would arrange that his presence in the place should be unsuspected. - -It was useless, he felt, to attempt to form a plan, until he should have -heard again from her and from Don Agostino. He read the latter's note -again and again with great attention. It was evident that Don Agostino -had something more to communicate than he was able at that moment to -write. No doubt he was making sure of his ground before summoning -Silvio to Montefiano. In any case, there was nothing to do but to wait -patiently for further light upon the situation; and in the mean time he -might do more harm than good by suggesting any one of the expedients for -obtaining another meeting with Bianca that came into his head. - -His letter written, he sought Giacinta's counsel as usual, and told her -of what that day's post had brought to him. Giacinta was duly -sympathetic. She had, indeed, long ago recognized that Silvio's passion -for Bianca Acorari was not to be diminished by any amount of practical -reasoning as to its folly. Perhaps the discovery that Monsignor Lelli, -whom her father held in such high esteem, not only approved of Silvio's -love for Donna Bianca, but had also undertaken to help him, so far as he -might be able, to remove the difficulties that stood in the way of his -marrying her, had caused Giacinta to take a less pessimistic view of her -brother's infatuation; at any rate, since Monsignor Lelli's visit she -had regarded the matter as one which must take its course, for better or -for worse, since not only was there no apparent likelihood of Silvio -being disheartened by the obstacles in his way, but it seemed that Donna -Bianca Acorari also knew her own mind, and had no intention of allowing -others to alter it for her. - -The professor, too, had become decidedly less cynical on the subject of -his son's matrimonial aspirations since his conversation with Monsignor -Lelli. To be sure, he did not encourage Giacinta to talk about it; and -when she attempted to do so, he put the whole question quietly but -decidedly away from him, as he did any question threatening to lead to -social unpleasantness in private life. But Giacinta realized that her -father also had modified his views as to the folly of Silvio's devotion -to a girl whom he had seen only a few times in his life; and that, -though he did not intend to move any further in the affair than he had -already done, he was not so actively opposed to it as he had at first -shown himself to be. - -Giacinta had always been doubtful as to whether Bianca Acorari would -have sufficient force of character to hold out against the pressure that -would certainly be brought to bear upon her in order to make her -relinquish all idea of becoming Silvio's wife. It was quite natural -that Silvio himself should entertain no doubts on the subject; but then -he was in love with Bianca, and she, Giacinta, was not so. But such -passages as Silvio chose to read to her from the brief note he had that -day received from Bianca finally removed all fears from her mind lest -her brother might be exposed to the disappointment and mortification of -finding that Donna Bianca had yielded to the influences by which she was -surrounded. - -"You see, Giacinta," Silvio said, triumphantly, "I was right. I have -always told you that Bianca would never give way. And now, after being -shut up in that dreary hole for nearly six weeks, she takes the first -opportunity of repeating the promises she made to me at the Villa -Acorari. If she has to wait three years to marry me, _ebbene_, she will -wait three years--and nothing that they can say or do to her in the mean -time will make the slightest difference. Oh, I know what you will -say--that it is impossible to know what a person's character may be whom -one has only seen a few times, and only talked to once. But sometimes -two people know each other's character by instinct, by--by--oh, well, by -something or other, though God knows what the something is." - -Giacinta laughed. "There may be a scientific explanation of the -phenomenon," she remarked; "perhaps Babbo will find one. No, Silvio," -she continued, more gravely, "I confess I seem to have underrated Donna -Bianca's character. She is apparently as much in earnest as you are, -and I am glad she is so. It is at least a sign that, if you both -succeed in attaining your object, you should be happy together, and your -happiness is all that concerns me, Silvio _mio_." - -"And Bianca's happiness," added Silvio, "that should concern you, too." - -"It will concern me henceforth," returned Giacinta, "because, though I -do not know Donna Bianca, I understand now that her happiness and yours -is the same thing." - -Silvio looked at her with a quick smile. "You will know Bianca some -day," he said, "and then you will see how right I was." - -Two mornings afterwards, Silvio received a second letter from Bianca, -and from it he learned how it had happened that Don Agostino had so -quickly been able to communicate with her. Bianca told him many other -things as well; and among them was a piece of information which, while -it gave him a considerable amount of satisfaction, at the same time made -him uneasy and restless in his mind. - -There was, she wrote, a threatening of disturbances among the people at -Montefiano in consequence of the Abbe Roux having persuaded her -step-mother to dismiss the _fattore_ and to consent to the rents being -raised. Bianca did not understand very well what was the matter, but it -was evident that the Abbe Roux and her step-mother feared that things -might become serious, for they had discussed in her presence the -advisability of asking for soldiers to be sent to Montefiano if there -was any more trouble with the _contadini_. Moreover, Concetta Fontana, -the _fattore's_ daughter, to whom Bianca had already alluded as being -her and Silvio's friend and channel of communication, had told her that -the people were angry because they suspected she was being kept as a -kind of prisoner at Montefiano until she should consent to marry Baron -d'Antin, and that her engagement to Silvio was perfectly well known in -the _paese_. The peasants were going to send a deputation to the castle, -and to insist not only on the increase in the rents being abandoned and -the agent, Fontana, reinstated in his post, but also, according to -Concetta, on seeing her, Bianca, and speaking with her as their -_padrona_. - -The intelligence certainly carried with it food for reflection. -Silvio's first feeling on reading Bianca's words was one of -satisfaction. If it were known or suspected at Montefiano that Donna -Bianca Acorari was being kept in seclusion in order to force her to -marry a foreigner old enough to be her father; if it were supposed that -her property and interests were being tampered with by strangers for -their own benefit, at the expense of her own people, a situation might -easily develop which would compel Princess Montefiano to allow her -step-daughter to marry the man she wished to marry. It was certainly no -bad thing if Bianca were rescued from her present position by the force -of public opinion; and if her own people gathered round her, Monsieur -l'Abbe Roux and Monsieur le Baron d'Antin might very possibly find -themselves obliged to retire from the scene. If this occurred, it might -reasonably be hoped that the princess would listen to other counsels -than those by which she had hitherto been influenced. - -So far, Silvio felt he had no cause to be otherwise than pleased at the -thought that Bianca's own people at Montefiano were likely to interfere -with the plans of the Abbe Roux and Monsieur d'Antin. His sense of -satisfaction, however, was quickly succeeded by a feeling of uneasiness. -Young as he was, he had some experience of what an uneducated mob, with -grievances real or fancied, might be capable of doing. He had witnessed -strikes in more than one part of Italy; and though it was true that, at -Montefiano, disturbances which might occur would be made by peasants and -not artisans, he knew how frequently it happened that the uneducated of -all classes and occupations lost their heads and went to lengths which -neither they nor their leaders perhaps ever contemplated. If Bianca -were right, and the rents at Montefiano had been raised through the -abbe's instrumentality, and a popular agent dismissed for venturing to -oppose the increase, then much would depend on the princess's attitude -towards the suggested deputation from her step-daughter's tenants. -Should her attitude be unconciliatory, who could tell whether the anger -and discontent of the peasantry might not be wreaked on Bianca herself, -in whose name these grievances had been inflicted? - -Silvio remembered having seen the agent, Fontana, on one occasion during -the few days he had spent in the neighborhood of Montefiano; and he had -likewise heard Don Agostino mention him as a _fattore_ who was just -towards the people as well as honest to his employers. At a crisis such -as Bianca's letter pointed to as being imminent, the advice and services -of a man like Fontana would have been invaluable to Princess Montefiano; -for if the peasants were clamoring for his reinstatement, they certainly -would have been more likely to be influenced by him than by strangers. - -The idea that Bianca Acorari might be exposed to any danger, however -problematical, was quite sufficient to render Silvio restless and -uneasy. He wondered whether Don Agostino had been thinking of possible -disturbances on the part of the peasants of Montefiano when he had -written that in a few days he might have something of importance to -communicate. To be sure, Don Agostino had not written again, and now -nearly three days had passed since Silvio had received his first letter, -enclosing the few lines Bianca had sent him by Concetta Fontana. He -would certainly, Silvio told himself, have written, or even perhaps -telegraphed, had anything alarming occurred at Montefiano. There was, it -would appear, nothing to be done except to wait for Don Agostino's -promised letter, or at least until Bianca herself should write again and -give him further particulars of how matters were going. - -That evening the spell of damp, hot weather, which so often makes Rome -almost intolerable in the middle of September, broke. A heavy -thunder-storm passed over the city, accompanied by torrents of rain, -which descended in white sheets as if in the tropics. A steamy fog rose -from the ground, parched by the long summer drought. Masses of -inky-black clouds began to drift up from the sea; and at nightfall, long -after the storm had rolled away to the mountains, a continuous flicker -of lightning illumined the entire sky. In the caffes, or safely in the -shelter of their own houses, people congratulated one another that the -end of the heat had come, and that when the weather should mend again -the first breath of autumn would be felt in the lighter, crisper air. - -Silvio dined at home that night with his father and Giacinta, and -afterwards, contrary to his usual custom, Professor Rossano did not go -to the Piazza Colonna for his cup of coffee and to read his evening -paper. The Piazza Colonna, indeed, would have been nothing but an -exaggerated puddle, with streams of muddy water running through it from -the higher level of Montecitorio; and, besides, it would have been -unwise to be abroad in the streets while the first rains after the -summer were falling--the only time during the whole year when a genuine -malarial fever, and not the "Roman fever" of the overfed and overtired -tourist, might possibly be picked up within the walls of Rome. - -Dinner had been over some time, and they were smoking and talking -together in the drawing-room, when the hoarse cries of the news-venders -calling the evening papers came from the street without, and a few -minutes later a servant entered the room with copies of the newspapers, -which he gave to the professor. Giacinta took up a book and began to -read, while Silvio walked restlessly up and down the room, every now and -then going to the window to see if the rain had stopped. - -The professor turned over the pages of his newspapers in a vain endeavor -to extract some news from them. There might be, and no doubt there -were, important events happening in the world, even in the month of -September--events more important, for instance, than the fall from his -bicycle of a student, or the drinking by a servant-girl of a solution of -corrosive sublimate in mistake for water. If there were more noteworthy -matters to chronicle, however, they had escaped the notice of the press -that evening. Professor Rossano was about to betake himself to other and -more profitable reading, when a paragraph containing a telegram dated -from Montefiano caught his eye and arrested his attention. - -"So," he observed, suddenly, "it seems that our _padrona di casa_ has -got herself into trouble with the people at Montefiano, or, rather, I -suppose that meddlesome abbe has got her into trouble with them. Look, -Silvio," he added, pointing to the paragraph in question, "read this," -and he handed the newspaper to his son. - -Silvio took the paper quickly, and eagerly read the telegram. It was -very short, and merely stated that in consequence of disorder among the -peasantry on the estates belonging to Casa Acorari at Montefiano, and -the fear of these disorders assuming more serious proportions, military -assistance has been requested by the civil authorities; and that a -detachment of infantry would in all probability be despatched from -Civitacastellana if the situation did not become more satisfactory. - -Silvio uttered an exclamation of dismay. - -"What did I tell you, Giacinta?" he said. "I was certain from Bianca's -last letter that some mischief was brewing. Now there will probably be a -collision with the military authorities; and we all know what that -means." - -"Well," observed the professor placidly, "it is no affair of yours, -Silvio, so far as I can see, if there are disturbances at Montefiano. -Not but what you have done your best to add to their number! All the -same," he continued, "it is a foolish thing, and a wrong thing, to drag -the soldiery into these disputes if their intervention can possibly be -avoided. I suppose the princess and the Abbe Roux are frightened. But -surely there must be a _fattore_ at Montefiano who can manage the -people?" - -"That is the point," returned Silvio. "The princess has dismissed the -_fattore_ because he objected to the raising of the rents; and the -peasants are insisting on his being recalled." - -The professor glanced at him. "It seems," he remarked, dryly, "that you -know all about it." - -"No, I don't," answered Silvio, bluntly. "But I want to know all about -it," he added. "To-morrow I shall take the first train to Attigliano, -and I shall drive from there to Montefiano. Don Agostino will tell me -what it all means, and perhaps I shall see for myself what is going on." - -"_Sciocchezze!_" exclaimed the professor. "Why the devil should you go -and interfere in the matter? It is no concern of yours, and you will -only get a bullet put into you by a soldier, or a knife by a peasant. -You are an imbecile, Silvio." - -"But it does concern me," Silvio replied, obstinately, "and, imbecile or -not, by twelve o'clock to-morrow I will be at Montefiano. Who knows? -Perhaps I might be of use. In any case, I go there to-morrow. No, -Giacinta, it is perfectly useless to argue about it. I wish I had gone -at once, when I received Bianca's last letter. I can guess what has -happened. The princess has been advised not to receive the deputation -from the peasants, or she has received it and refused to grant what was -asked, and now the people are exasperated." - -The professor shrugged his shoulders. "Of course you will go," he said. -"When people are in love they cease to be reasonable human beings, and -you have not been a reasonable human being--oh, not since Easter. It is -useless to talk to you, as useless as it would be to talk to a donkey in -spring," and Professor Rossano got up from his chair and walked off to -his library. - -Giacinta looked at her brother as the door closed behind the professor. - -"Do you suppose the disturbances at Montefiano are serious?" she asked. - -"Who can tell?" responded Silvio. "Those things are apt to become -serious at a moment's notice. Anyhow," he continued, "I wish to be near -Bianca, in case of any danger threatening her. The people might think -she was responsible for the troops being summoned, and then, if any -casualty were to happen, they might turn upon her as well as upon others -at the castle. Of course I must go, Giacinta! Besides, who knows what -this business may not lead to? Of one thing you may be certain. If -Bianca is in any danger, I shall save her from it--I shall take her away -from Montefiano." - -Giacinta stared at him. "You mean that you will make her run away with -you?" she asked. - -Silvio shook his head. "I do not know," he replied. "It will all depend -upon circumstances. But if I asked her to come with me, she would come. -And there are those at Montefiano, Giacinta, who would help her to do -so." - -Giacinta did not reply for a moment. Then she said again, quietly: "Of -course you will go, Silvio. After all," she added, "if I were a man, -and in your place, I should do the same." - - - - - *XXIX* - - -It was Sunday; and on Sunday and other feasts Don Agostino celebrated an -additional mass at the principal altar in the parish church of -Montefiano at half-past seven o'clock. This function was neither a high -mass nor a _messa cantata_, for, except on very special occasions, when -extraneous talent from Civitacastellana, or from some other larger -ecclesiastical centre in the neighborhood, was forthcoming, the -difficulties both musical and ceremonial of either form would have been -beyond the powers of the faithful at Montefiano satisfactorily to -surmount. The _funzione_, as it was generally called, at half-past nine -on a _festa_ was doubtless an inartistic and even an irreligious affair, -if regarded from the point of view of the purist in piety or musical -art. At intervals during the celebration of the mass, the organist -would rattle out from the wheezy pipes such stirring airs from popular -operas, comic and otherwise, as might seem to him likely to please the -saint to whom the day was dedicated. - -This particular Sunday happened to fall within the octave of the 8th of -September, the day on which the Church commemorates the Nativity of the -Madonna, and, during the consecration and elevation of the sacred -elements at the mass, strains from "La Traviata" assisted the spiritual -aspirations of the kneeling worshippers. The remarkable infelicity, -under the circumstances, of the selection, certainly never suggested -itself either to the organist or to the congregation, and Don Agostino, -remembering that "to the pure all things are pure," was far too wise to -think of pointing it out afterwards in the sacristy. Nevertheless, his -sense of humor was acute, and not entirely to be suppressed, even when -he was ministering at the altar. - -But to-day the organist's doubtful compliment to the Madonna passed -almost unnoticed by Don Agostino. He knew that his people gave of their -best to their religion; and, if that best were not of a standard to -satisfy more artistic or more pious conceptions, the fact did not -greatly concern him. The truth was that it was not the first time by -many that Don Agostino had heard selections from "La Traviata" at the -half-past nine o'clock mass, and on this occasion he had more important -matters to occupy his mind than the lack both of perception of the -fitness of things and of a sense of humor on the part of the organist. - -A glance round the church as he had entered it and made his way to the -altar, showed him that there was scarcely a man, and certainly none of -the younger men, among the congregation. The fact was all the more -noticeable because Don Agostino invariably had a good attendance of men -at that mass. They did not, to be sure, penetrate very far into the -church, and the majority showed a determination to stand as near the -door as possible. But the great point was that they came; and they -came, moreover, not only to attend mass, but also to listen to the -short, practical address--it was certainly not a sermon, for Don -Agostino never built imaginary edifices on the foundation of a passage -from Scripture--to which they knew that ten minutes were sometimes -devoted by their _parroco_ before the canon of the mass was begun. - -To-day, however, the male element was conspicuous by its absence, and -Don Agostino said mass in the presence of women and children only. That -very morning an answer had been sent by Princess Montefiano to the -request made by its leading members that she would receive a deputation -from the tenants on the Montefiano lands to protest against the raising -of their rents and the dismissal of Giuseppe Fontana, the _fattore_. -The answer had been brief and decided. The princess caused it to be -conveyed to the tenants and peasants that she would do nothing of the -kind. Any reasonable complaints would be received by the _ex-fattore_ -Fontana's successor, and would be forwarded by him to the -administration, to the Eccellentissima Casa Acorari, for consideration. - -Montefiano was in no mood for a mass that morning, even though it was a -Sunday and within the octave of the _Madonna di Settembre_. Don -Agostino had heard the news as he was vesting himself in the sacristy, -and had heard it with no little dismay. He had watched the storm -brewing, and though he felt that a storm was much needed to clear the -air, he did not wish it to burst with too great a fury. He had, indeed, -prepared a discourse which he had intended to deliver at mass that -morning, counselling obedience to all lawful authority, and pointing out -that any attempt to redress grievances by unlawful means was not only -wrong, but impolitic. The discourse remained undelivered; and when Don -Agostino had read the Gospel for the day, he proceeded to recite the -_Credo_ and passed on to the canon of the mass. Those for whom his -words had been specially prepared were thronging the Corso Vittorio -Emanuele, eagerly debating as to what steps they should take to show the -princess and her foreign advisers that they intended to persist in their -determination to place their grievances before her and the -_principessina_ in person. - -The curt refusal to receive the proposed deputation had, as was but -natural, provoked intense indignation in and about Montefiano. Had it -been a working-day, the news that the princess, as acting for Donna -Bianca, had declined to listen to the representatives of the peasants -would have circulated more slowly, for there were _tenute_ belonging to -the estate, some of which were several miles distant from Montefiano. -But on a _festa_ everybody who could walk, or who had a beast to carry -him, came into the _paese_; and after being present, at any rate, during -a portion of Don Agostino's half-past-nine o'clock mass, the remainder -of the day was spent in gossiping with friends and acquaintances and -putting hardly earned money into the pockets of the keepers of the -_trattorie_ and the wine-shops. - -The error in judgment committed by Princess Montefiano in allowing her -decision not to receive the deputation which had asked permission to -wait upon her to be publicly known in the morning of a _festa_ was -already bearing fruit. Don Agostino, indeed, had uttered an exclamation -of surprise and annoyance when he was told the news, and heard of the -excitement and ill-feeling that was being already shown in the _paese_. -He had always thought that Princess Montefiano would decline to see the -deputation, for it would most probably not suit the Abbe Roux that she -and Bianca Acorari should receive it. The abbe, no doubt, had -counselled the showing of a firm front and an unconditional refusal to -admit that the tenants had any right to interfere with the -administration of the estates of the Casa Acorari. But why, in the name -of common-sense and prudence, had not the Abbe Roux so arranged that the -princess's reply should not be known till Monday? Don Agostino asked -himself the question impatiently, and the only reply he could find to it -was that the abbe, being a foreigner, had not sufficient knowledge of -the customs of the people; and that he probably understood neither the -character nor the temper of the Montefianesi. - -The mass was scarcely concluded when, after unrobing himself of his -vestments, Don Agostino hurried down the flight of steps which formed a -short cut from the piazza where the church stood to the main street of -the town. As he expected, he found the Corso Vittorio Emanuele thronged -by an excited crowd of peasants and farmers. Among them were not a few -women. Little groups were angrily discussing the event of the day, and -the countenances of many of those composing them wore an expression not -very pleasant to look upon. - -Don Agostino noted every little detail as he passed down the street, -returning salutations made to him. He intended to see Stefano Mazza, -and learn from him what steps the people proposed to take now that their -deputation had been refused audience. He knew the man's influence in -the district, and also the strong foundations on which that influence -had been built up. Casa Acorari might raise its tenants' rents, and the -fact would doubtless mean a harder struggle than ever to make two ends -come within reasonable distance of meeting. But if Sor Stefano called -in his mortgages and refused to renew his _cambiali_, the fact would -spell ruin not only to the poorer among the peasantry, but also to many -in the district who were regarded by their neighbors as well-to-do men, -farming their hundreds of acres. Don Agostino knew this very well. -Confidences were occasionally made to him which were outside the -confessional--confidences made to a friend by men who would never dream -of confessing to a priest; or who, if they did so in order to please -their women, would certainly not tell that priest more than a fraction -of the truth. - -As he knew would be the case, Don Agostino found Sor Stefano busily -occupied in attending to his customers at the Caffe Garibaldi. A sudden -silence, succeeded by a murmur of surprise, greeted the priest's -appearance at the entrance to the _caffe_. Every man there, from Sor -Stefano downward, knew what had caused Don Agostino to make his -appearance in such a quarter. It was but another proof of the -importance and gravity of the situation. - -Sor Stefano came forward and greeted his unusual customer. It was -certainly suffocatingly hot--dogs' weather, in fact--he observed airily, -as if the _parroco_ were a daily visitor to his establishment. No doubt -Don Agostino would drink a quarter of white wine?--and he escorted him -to a little table in the centre of the _caffe_. - -No, Don Agostino would not have wine. A little vermouth and seltzer--he -had not yet dined. - -_Sicuro_! The weather was hot, and the heat was much more trying than -in the middle of summer. But there were signs of a change. The rain -must come soon, and then--Don Agostino was as airy and indifferent in -his manner as was his host. Nevertheless, he knew, and Sor Stefano -knew, and all the other occupants of the _caffe_ knew, that these were -mere empty phrases demanded by the exigencies of the situation. - -Sor Stefano brought a bottle of vermouth and a siphon, and set them down -before Don Agostino. - -"Your reverence has heard the news?" he asked. "The princess refuses to -receive our deputation. It is an incredible thing, but it is true. -Well, the deputation will go to the castle all the same. Only it will -be a larger deputation--is it not so?" He turned and appealed to the -groups sitting around, as he spoke the last words, and immediately a -babel of voices arose within the _caffe_. - -"Yes, yes, we will all go to the castle, and then we will see if these -cursed foreigners will dare to prevent us from seeing and speaking with -the _principessina_! It is the _principessina_ we mean to see, not the -foreigners!" - -Sor Stefano nodded. "_Sicuro_, we will all go!" he repeated, and then -he looked at Don Agostino. The rest paused and looked at the _parroco_ -also. - -Don Agostino poured a small quantity of vermouth into his glass. Then -he added some seltzer-water to it, and drank it off slowly and -deliberately. - -"_Benissimo!_" he observed, quietly. "But how will you get to the -castle?" - -The remark was received with a burst of laughter. How would they get -there? Oh, _bello!_ on their feet, of course--how else? - -Don Agostino looked at Sor Stefano gravely. - -"Signor Mazza," he said, "if somebody tried to force their way into your -house against your will, what would you do?" - -"_Perbacco!_ lock the door and close the shutters, I suppose," replied -Sor Stefano, staring at him. - -"Precisely," returned Don Agostino, dryly. "That is what I imagine the -princess will do. And then?" he added, abruptly. - -A shout, almost a howl, of indignation greeted his words. In a moment -every man in the _caffe_ had started to his feet, and each one was -trying to make his voice heard above that of his neighbors. - -"If they lock us out, we will break the doors down!" shouted a tall, -well-made young peasant, with a chest and a pair of arms evidently -capable of affording valuable assistance towards the carrying out of his -suggestion. - -A round of applause greeted his words, followed by cries of "Abbasso gli -stranieri! _Abbas so gli sfruttatori_! _Evviva la Principessina -Bianca_!"--cries which were taken up by those outside the _caffe_ till -presently the whole street rang with them. - -Don Agostino waited for a lull in the excitement raging around him. -Then, seizing his opportunity, he got up from his seat and looked round -the room calmly and composedly. - -"Yes, my friends," he said, in clear, penetrating tones, which could be -heard by the crowd gathered outside the _caffe_, "yes, _Evviva la -Principessina Bianca_! You are her people, and you wish her well--is it -not so?" - -"We wish ourselves well also!" shouted a voice from without; and another -round of applause, mingled with laughter, burst from the audience. - -Sor Stefano came forward and placed himself at Don Agostino's side. - -"Your reverence is right," he said, "and the _signore_ who just spoke is -right also. _Sicuro_! It is because we wish the Principessina Bianca -well that we mean to see her and speak with her; because, too, we -believe that she wishes her people well. Do I speak truly?" - -"_Bene! bene! Evviva Casa Acorari--non vogliamo gli stranieri!_" - -"Your reverence," Sor Stefano continued, as soon as there was silence -again, "you come among us no doubt to hear our intentions. It is right. -You have our confidence and our esteem." - -"_Evviva il parroco! Evviva Don Agostino!_" - -Don Agostino smiled. - -"I come among you as one of yourselves," he said, "as one of the -deputation to which an audience has been refused. You invited me to join -the deputation, and I did so gladly, knowing that its object was a just -object. You, Signor Mazza, are perfectly right. I have come here this -morning to hear what my fellow-members propose to do next." - -Sor Stefano shrugged his shoulders. - -"_Diavolo!_" he exclaimed. "It seems to me that your reverence has -already heard the intentions of these _signori_." - -"I have heard them, yes," returned Don Agostino, "but I do not think -that they are wise intentions. Let us reflect a little. These things -need consideration, and a little patience does no harm. You say that -you wish well to Donna Bianca Acorari, and to yourselves? Perhaps it -would be more accurate to say that you wish well to yourselves, and to -Donna Bianca Acorari; more accurate, and more natural. The question is, -however, whether the course you propose to adopt will result in any -good, either to you or to her. You tell me that I possess your -confidence and your esteem. Believe me, I value both the one and the -other; and I think the fact that during the years I have been your -_parroco_ I have succeeded in gaining this esteem and confidence should -be a proof that I am not likely to betray either." - -Don Agostino paused for a moment, as a murmur of approval ran round the -room. - -"If you had come to mass this morning," he proceeded, not without a -touch of humor in his voice, "I should have told you in a church what I -now tell you in a caffe. Oh, do not be alarmed, my friends, you are not -going to hear a sermon. I quite understand that if you had wanted -anything of that nature you would have come to mass. _Ebbene!_ one is -not always in the mood to go to church. And when one is not in the -mood, who knows whether it is not better to stay away than to go, and to -pay Domeneddio the bad compliment of being bored with him when one gets -there? No, I am not going to preach you a sermon; but I am going to make -one or two suggestions to you, with your permission, and that of our -worthy host," and Don Agostino turned with a smile to Sor Stefano. - -"_Evviva Don Agostino_! Speak, speak!" resounded from all parts of the -room, and from the street without people pressed nearer to the open -doors of the caffe in order to hear more distinctly what the _parroco_ -had to say. - -"My first suggestion," proceeded Don Agostino, "is, that we should not -act hastily--that we should stop to think. To-day we are unquestionably -in the right; to-morrow, by ill-considered action, we may place -ourselves in the wrong. The princess has refused to receive our -deputation, and, consequently, she has refused to you, the people of -Montefiano, your legitimate request to explain your grievances in the -presence of Donna Bianca Acorari, who is the legal owner of these lands, -although as yet the law does not permit her the full privileges of her -position. Well, so far, the princess is unquestionably in the wrong. -That is to say, her excellency has no doubt acted by the advice of those -who are not, perhaps, competent to advise her. But we must remember -that the princess is placed in a difficult position. She cannot help -being a foreigner, nor the fact that Donna Bianca is not her own child." - -"She can help bringing foreigners here to interfere in our affairs!" -interrupted Sor Stefano. "Why cannot she trust those who have always -been loyal to Casa Acorari? And why must she dismiss an old official -like Fontana, a man who had the full confidence of the late prince?" - -"Bravo--Benissimo!" applauded Sor Stefano's customers and clients, and -they looked at Don Agostino curiously, as though anxious to see how he -would reply to so crushing an argument. - -He hesitated for a moment. Sor Stefano's remark was, in truth, -sufficiently to the point. - -"But, Signor Mazza," he said, at length, "we must remember that these -affairs also concern the princess. She is responsible for the -administration of the property until Donna Bianca attains her majority. -I do not doubt, indeed, I am convinced, that her excellency is badly -advised. But if this is the case, she is not likely to listen to wiser -counsels at a moment's notice. It must be proved to her absolutely, and -beyond a possibility of doubt, that those whom she trusts are not -competent to advise her. You, my friends, declare that you wish well to -the Principessina Bianca and to Casa Acorari. If that is the case, do -not let us forget that though the princess is a foreigner, she is, -nevertheless, in a sense, the _principessa madre_, and as such is -entitled to respect and consideration. It will be a strange method of -showing your loyalty to Casa Acorari if you present yourselves with -threats and violence at the gates of the castle of Montefiano. Nor, -believe me, will you be doing yourselves any good by such a proceeding. -If the princess is a woman of any spirit, and if those who have advised -her are not cowards, she will only persist the more firmly in the course -she has adopted. The increase in the rents will be enforced, and our -friend Signor Fontana's dismissal will certainly not be recalled. -Moreover, it is scarcely likely that her excellency would be disposed to -allow Donna Bianca to be interviewed by those who had threatened to -dispute the authority of Donna Bianca's guardian." - -As Don Agostino proceeded with his arguments, the faces of his audience -gradually became more lowering, and more than once murmurs of -disapproval and impatience were audible. Sor Stefano himself looked at -first disconcerted, and then suspicious. - -"Your reverence appears to be very anxious to defend the princess," he -said, "but we Montefianesi want no foreigners. If her excellency has -evil counsellors round her, it is because she listens to strangers in -preference to trusting her husband's people. No, _reverendo_, we do not -forget that she is, as you say, the late prince's wife--but she is not -the _principessina's_ mother. And by all accounts she is not acting by -the _principessina_ as a mother would act by her child. We have -approached her excellency with fair words, and in a respectful and -legitimate manner. She has thought fit to answer us--in the way she has -answered us." - -Sor Stefano stopped abruptly; then, turning from Don Agostino to the -crowd, ever growing more and more dense in the street, he raised his -voice yet louder. - -"His reverence," he exclaimed, "does not quite understand us, my -friends! Oh, it is natural; for, after all, he is a priest, and it is a -priest who is at the bottom of the whole business! _Si capisce!_ the -Church must support the Church. But Don Agostino does not understand -us. He thinks that we are considering our interests only--that our only -object in going to the castle is to insist on the rents remaining as -they were, and on Sor Beppe being recalled to his post. If that were -all, _reverendo_, we should not take the trouble to go to the -castle--_niente affato_! The rents would not be paid--and as to the new -_fattore_ whom the foreign priest has appointed--well, he would be a -brave man to remain long in Montefiano. He would receive hints--oh, -that the air of Montefiano was unhealthy for strangers. And if he did -not take the hints and remove himself, the air would no doubt prove -fatal. No, we go to the castle because we wish to see and to speak with -the _principessina_--because we wish to know what truth there is in -certain stories we have heard--that the _principessina_ is, as it were, -a prisoner here at Montefiano until she gives herself up to the lust of -an old foreigner instead of to the love of a Roman youth she wants to -marry. We wish to learn if it is true that the Abbe Roux is in reality -the lessee of the rents on the Montefiano _latifondo_, and that he means -to force the _principessina_ to marry her uncle for reasons of his own. -These are our reasons, _reverendo_, for insisting on seeing the -_principessina_ herself, and for being determined to force our way into -the castle, if we are compelled to do so. Have I spoken well, or ill?" - -A shout from the crowd answered Sor Stefano's speech. - -"_Al castello--andiamo al castello! Fuori gli stranieri--evviva la -Principessina Bianca!_" - -Sor Stefano looked at Don Agostino. "You hear, _reverendo_?" he asked. - -"I hear," Don Agostino replied, quietly, and then, drawing himself up to -his full height, he added, "And I repeat, with you, '_Evviva la -Principessina Donna Bianca Acorari!_' You, Signor Mazza, have spoken, -and much that you have said is just. But you have also said what is not -just. If I defend the princess, it is because I believe that lady to be -innocent of the conduct towards her step-daughter which you impute to -her. I believe her to be influenced by dishonest persons who have -succeeded in gaining her entire confidence, and in persuading her that -she is doing her duty by Donna Bianca. It makes no difference to me -that one of these dishonest persons--the chief among them--happens to be -a priest. I have not defended his conduct, but merely that of the -princess, who has, I believe, been deceived by his advice. It is true, -Signor Mazza, that the Church must support the Church; and concerning -the Abbe Roux as a priest, I have nothing to say. It is with the Abbe -Roux as a man of business that I am concerned--and I have already -expressed my opinion of him in that respect. But these things are beside -the point. I came here to learn your intentions, my friends, as regards -the action of the deputation of which I consented to be a member. I -speak frankly. If that action is to be such as you seem to be bent -upon, I will not be a party to it. To give my approval to a course -which must almost inevitably lead to disorder, if not to worse, would -not be consistent with my duty either to you as my parishioners or to -myself as a priest. I tell you that you will gain nothing by threats -and demonstrations, and the position of the _principessina_ will -certainly not be improved by any interference of such a character. All -that will happen will be that the princess--who, remember, is within her -rights and has the law behind her--will call upon the authorities to -assist her and to maintain order at Montefiano. You, Signor Mazza, know -as well as I do what would be the result of continued resistance under -such circumstances. They are not results which any one who wishes well -to Montefiano cares to contemplate, and certainly not results which I, a -priest, can assist in bringing about. No, my friends, let us be -reasonable! You have done me the honor to say that you trust me. Well, -I am going to ask you to trust me a little longer--for a few hours -longer. I told you that I had one or two suggestions to make to you, -and I should like to make my second suggestion." - -Don Agostino's audience was apparently undecided. The younger and more -excited among the crowd seemed eager for instant action, but the older -heads were evidently ready to listen to the _parroco's_ advice. - -At this juncture no less a person than the _sindaco_ intervened. The -_avvocato_ Ricci had taken no part in the proceedings, though he had -been present when Don Agostino entered the _caffe_. He was, indeed, in -a lamentable position of embarrassment and difficulty, what with his -fear of offending Sor Stefano on the one hand, and his anxiety lest he -should be compromised in the eyes of the authorities on the other. Don -Agostino's last sentences, however, had given him the courage to open -his lips and to join the _parroco_ in dissociating himself from a -movement which threatened to become prolific of disorder. Don -Agostino's allusion to the danger of so acting as to oblige the princess -and her advisers to seek the aid of the authorities had finally decided -the _sindaco_ of Montefiano to brave the resentment of the man who held -so much of his paper locked away in his strong-box. - -"In my opinion," he said, "his reverence is right. If it is -inconsistent with his duty as _parroco_ of Montefiano to associate -himself with a movement which tends to create disorder, it is equally -inconsistent that I who, as _sindaco_, am responsible to the civil -authorities for the maintenance of law and order in the commune should -in any way countenance a course which, as Don Agostino justly says, -might lead to very deplorable consequences. His reverence, however, has -some other suggestion to offer. Is it not so?" he added, turning to Don -Agostino. - -The intervention was opportune, and Don Agostino felt it to be so. He -was determined to prevent, if possible, the proposed march upon the -castle by an angry and excited crowd of uneducated peasants and petty -farmers. It was not that he feared any violence or excesses on their -part, beyond that of perhaps forcing an entrance into the courtyard of -the castle, if they found the gates barred against them. He dreaded -lest a further blunder should be committed by the Princess Montefiano -and those who were advising her. The refusal to receive the deputation -and the manner of that refusal were blunders enough; but a still graver -error in judgment would be committed were the princess to allow the -matter to pass out of her own hands into those of the authorities, civil -or military. Don Agostino was determined that if more blunders were -committed, he would at all events do all that lay in his power to -prevent the people themselves from furnishing any excuse for these -blunders. - -"Yes, my friends," he said, after considering for a few moments, "I have -another suggestion to make to you. It is this. It is possible that the -princess, although unwilling to receive a deputation, would consent to -receive your _sindaco_ and myself, and listen to our representations on -your behalf. I think, indeed, that her excellency could scarcely -decline to receive us under the circumstances; and we could request that -the Principessina Donna Bianca should be present at the interview and -hear what we have to say on behalf of her people. At least, no -reasonable objection could be taken to this step by her excellency's -advisers, and it is possible that we might succeed in demonstrating to -the princess that these advisers have misled her. I am ready to go to -the castle this afternoon," he continued. "and ask to see her excellency -and Donna Bianca. Doubtless, Signor Sindaco, you will accompany me," he -added. - -The _avvocato_ Ricci glanced nervously at Sor Stefano, then he shook his -head. "I think not, Don Agostino," he said. "That you should go and -attempt to arrange matters with her excellency is very right and proper. -But I am not inclined to interfere unless I should be called upon to do -so in my official capacity--a thing which I trust may not happen. No, -_signori_," he added, turning to the listening crowd, "I feel sure that -your interests are safe in Don Agostino's hands, and his advice is good. -Let him go this afternoon to the castle as your representative. The -princess has the reputation of being a very devout lady. She will -doubtless, therefore, be pleased to receive a visit from the _parroco_ -of Montefiano. In the mean time, my friends, let us be calm and -patient, and await the result of his reverence's interview with the -princess and Donna Bianca." - -It was evident that Don Agostino's suggestion, seconded as it was by the -official influence of the _sindaco_, found favor with the majority of -the assembly both within and outside the Caffe Garibaldi. There were a -few dissentient voices, and Sor Stefano himself seemed to sympathize -with those who were clamoring for more immediate and united action. - -Don Agostino took Stefano Mazza aside for a minute or two and spoke -earnestly with him. He pointed out how imprudent it would be to -encourage the people to go to the castle in their present excited frame -of mind. Delay, he argued, was everything, for it would also afford -those at the castle time to realize their mistake; and very likely he, -Don Agostino, would be able to bring matters at any rate to a -compromise, which should satisfy both parties. - -To his great relief, Sor Stefano yielded to his persuasions, although he -did so with a bad grace. For some reason or other it was clear that Sor -Stefano was anxious that matters should come to a crisis; and Don -Agostino had throughout wondered what his object might be in so openly -supporting the peasants and the more violent faction of the community in -their desire to present themselves in person at the castle and force the -princess to give way. - -A few words from Sor Stefano were sufficient to silence the objections -of the minority to the _parroco's_ proposal, and after promising that he -would go that very afternoon to the castle, Don Agostino left the -_caffe_, saluted as he made his way through the crowd by friendly cheers -from his parishioners. - - - - - *XXX* - - -It was not to be expected that the excitement and ill-feeling produced -by Princess Montefiano's curt refusal to receive the deputation which -had been formed to wait upon her should be unknown in the castle. The -Abbe Roux, indeed, was not without his means of information as to what -was going on in the _paese_; but it so happened that the intelligence -supplied to him was not infrequently both inaccurate and misleading. As -he had said to Monsieur d'Antin, he was aware that the dismissal of the -agent Fontana had aroused a certain amount of opposition and even of -indignation; but he was certainly ignorant of the extent and depth of -the feeling his action had excited in the commune. In his opinion, the -ill-feeling that he had been told was being manifested by the peasants -was merely the result of an attempt on the part of the dismissed -_fattore_ and his friends to frighten the princess and lead her to -recall Fontana to his post and to give way on the question of the -raising of the rents. He was persuaded that it was only necessary to be -firm, and not to listen to any attempt on the part of the _contadini_ to -discuss the matter with the administration of Casa Acorari, and in a few -days things would quiet down. He had not, therefore, thought fit to -tell Princess Montefiano more than was absolutely necessary of the state -of affairs prevailing in the _paese_, and he had represented the whole -matter as a trifle which was not worthy of her consideration. It is -possible that had the abbe been better informed he would have regarded -the situation in a different light. If he had known, for instance, of -the stories assiduously circulated throughout the district during the -last few weeks concerning Donna Bianca Acorari, and the treatment to -which she was being subjected--stories which certainly had lost nothing -in the process of diffusion--if he had suspected that it was being -openly asserted that he and none other was the new lessee of the -Montefiano rents, that mysterious _affittuario_, who had never hitherto -been seen in the flesh, he would doubtless have proceeded more -cautiously. But the Abbe Roux was not well informed. Indeed, could he -but have known it, he was being wilfully misled by those whom he -believed to be his friends, not only at Montefiano, but also at Palazzo -Acorari in Rome, where the business of Casa Acorari was transacted. -Long as he had lived in Italy, he had got to learn that he was no match -for a certain class of Italians, and more especially of Romans, at petty -intrigue. Not a syllable had reached his ears which could lead him to -suspect that not only was his actual position with regard to the Acorari -estates known, but that the entire scheme by which he hoped to retain -that position for a period long enough to enable him to make a -considerable sum of money out of it was known also. - -It was natural, therefore, that the letter announcing to Princess -Montefiano that a deputation from the peasantry proposed to wait upon -her, and stating that its members were commissioned particularly to -request a personal interview with the Principessina Donna Bianca, should -have caused both its recipient and the Abbe Roux considerable surprise. -It had been surprise only, however, and that feeling had been quickly -followed by one of contemptuous indifference. The princess, indeed, was -not a little indignant. The pointed request that her step-daughter -should be personally approached by the tenantry of Montefiano seemed to -her to be a reflection upon herself and her position; a stone, as it -were, cast against her authority. The Abbe Roux had certainly not -attempted to soothe her ruffled feelings. He had, on the contrary, -inveighed against the insolence of the peasantry in venturing to send -such a document to her excellency, and against the obvious disrespect -towards her rule conveyed in the request that the deputation should -speak with Donna Bianca in person. He had assured the princess and -Monsieur d'Antin, to whom she had shown the letter, that the whole -affair was a trifle--a mere _ballon d'essai_ on the part of Fontana and -his friends to intimidate her excellency with a view to regaining his -post. As to the grievance about the rents, that was nonsense. The -holdings in question had been for many years under-rented; and the -tenants could perfectly well afford to pay the trifling addition -imposed. Had he, the abbe, not gone thoroughly into the question, he -would not have counselled any increase, but Fontana had been very lax, -very behind the times, and he had evidently thought more of keeping on -good terms with the _contadini_ than of the legitimate interests of his -employers. - -Monsieur d'Antin had shrugged his shoulders and declined to give an -opinion. He did not understand Italian peasants, and he did not want to -understand them. He was quite convinced in his own mind that the abbe -was making a purse for himself, but doubtless the abbe knew what he was -about, and it was no part of Baron d'Antin's programme to interfere in -the priest's little arrangements. His sister's indignation at the -allusion to Bianca rather amused him. Jeanne was certainly tenacious of -her rights. She would have made an admirable mother-superior--yes, -admirable. - -The princess, who did not lack spirit, had required no advice as to the -manner in which she should reply to the letter in question. To do her -justice, she was not a woman to be intimidated by what she fully -believed to be a blow levelled at her authority by a body of uneducated -peasants, instigated to disaffection by a dismissed servant. - -The Abbe Roux had scornfully pointed out to her the name of Don Agostino -Lelli as being one of the proposed deputation. It was quite sufficient, -he declared, that such an individual should be one of its leaders to -prove the real character of the movement. The _parroco_ of Montefiano -had persistently interfered, as Madame la Princesse well knew, in -affairs that were quite outside his province, and no doubt he and the -dismissed agent were acting in concert. Besides, a priest who had so -notoriously fallen into disgrace at Rome was certainly not a fitting -person to be received by the princess at the bidding of a few peasants. - -In this latter sentiment Monsieur d'Antin had heartily supported the -abbe. It was decidedly not advisable that Monsignor Lelli should -succeed in obtaining even a single interview with Bianca Acorari. -Monsieur d'Antin and the abbe had exchanged a rapid but significant -glance when they observed that among those whom the peasants had -designated to represent their cause was the name of Don Agostino Lelli; -and both of them had resolved that Monsignor Lelli should have no -opportunity of even seeing Bianca. - -Princess Montefiano had wished to despatch her reply at once to the -signatories of the letter she had received, but the abbe counselled -delay. Although he affected to regard the whole matter with contempt, -he was not quite easy in his mind as to what the effects of so curt a -refusal to receive the peasants' deputation might be. He had persuaded -the princess, therefore, to keep back her answer until the following -morning. He wished to ascertain the exact state of public opinion in -Montefiano, and also to prepare for possible emergencies. It had not -been without some difficulty that he had succeeded in persuading the -princess not at once to send her reply, and it was only when her brother -added his representations to those of the abbe that Princess Montefiano -had finally consented to any delay. In the mean time, all knowledge of -what was happening was carefully kept from Bianca Acorari. The Abbe -Roux found it easy enough to point out the advisability of not allowing -the fact of there being any difficulty with the people to transpire to -Donna Bianca, and more especially that a personal interview with her had -been sought by their representatives. The princess had no desire to -bring her step-daughter forwards, since by so doing, she would only -diminish her own authority to which she was legally entitled. It was -absurd to suppose that Bianca could possibly understand business -matters; and, as the abbe pointed out, the endeavor to drag an -inexperienced girl into such questions was only another proof that the -whole agitation had been formed with a view to intimidation. It would -be wiser, Monsieur l'Abbe argued, to leave Donna Bianca in complete -ignorance of the situation; and so, by common consent, not a word was -said in her presence that could lead her to suspect that anything -unusual was taking place. - -In the mean time, the Abbe Roux sent a private note to the _sindaco_ of -Montefiano, begging that official to come to see him that evening after -dusk at the castle, and enjoining him to keep his visit a secret, as, -for obvious reasons, it would not be advisable that it should be known -in the _paese_ that they had conferred together. - -The _sindaco's_ report had certainly not diminished the Abbe Roux's -growing apprehensions. It was evident that the _avvocato_ Ricci -regarded the agitation as wide-spread and likely to assume serious -proportions. It was headed, as he assured the abbe, by influential -members of the community, whose support would undoubtedly encourage the -_contadini_ to persist in their attitude. He himself had been -approached, and it was true that he had consented to join the proposed -deputation to the princess; but he had done so in the hope of exerting -his official influence to keep the agitation within legitimate bounds. -Among the chief supporters of the peasantry he could assure the abbe -that the _parroco_, Don Agostino Lelli, was one of the most active, and, -by virtue of his position, perhaps the most influential. It was, of -course, well known that the _parroco_ was taking this part out of -friendship for and sympathy with the _fattore_, Giuseppe Fontana. The -Abbe Roux made a gesture of impatience and anger. - -"Don Agostino Lelli had better confine himself to his duties," he -exclaimed, "otherwise he will find himself removed from Montefiano, as, -years ago, he was removed from his post in Rome. You are of opinion, -then," he continued, "that this affair is likely to become serious; that -disorders, in short, might break out if her excellency the princess -refuses to receive this deputation?" - -The _sindaco_ hesitated. "It depends," he replied. - -"And upon what?" asked the abbe, sharply. - -"Upon--well, upon whether her excellency is prepared to stand firm, and -to take the possible consequences of her refusal. After all, she has -the force of the law on her side--" - -"And the force of public opinion on the other side," interrupted the -abbe. - -The mayor of Montefiano shrugged his shoulders. "_Caro signore_," he -observed, "the sight of a few bayonets soon changes public opinion. I -believe that the peasants will very quickly turn round and disown their -own supporters, if they once realize that her excellency will not give -way to their demands. In any case, you can rely upon my doing my duty -in safeguarding the public order in this commune. Her excellency has -only to request the aid of the authorities in the event of the -_contadini_ proceeding to any excesses, and a telegram to the military -authorities at Civitacastellana will do the rest. In the space of three -or four hours troops could be on the spot." - -"Ah!" repeated the Abbe Roux, thoughtfully; "in the space of three or -four hours, you say?" - -"_Sicuro!_ perhaps less. In my opinion there would be nothing to fear. -The sight of the soldiers would soon reduce the peasants to reason." - -The abbe looked at him quickly. "The princess has already decided to -refuse to receive this deputation," he said. "She has written a very -abrupt refusal. I have persuaded her to delay its despatch for a few -hours. It appears, however, that there is no reason why it should not -be sent to-morrow." - -"It will increase the ill-feeling, no doubt," said the _sindaco_--"very -seriously increase it, I fear. Still, if her excellency has the courage -to stand firm, there can be but one issue. In the end the _contadini_ -will have to give way, and then they will infallibly turn against those -who have encouraged them to create disturbances. It is always like -that." - -The Abbe Roux did not reply for a moment or two. Then he said, -suddenly: "There is one thing I do not quite understand, Signor Ricci. -Why does this deputation insist upon seeing Donna Bianca Acorari? The -people must surely know that Donna Bianca, being a minor, has no voice -in matters connected with the administration of her property. This -insistence on speaking with her is scarcely respectful to the princess, -who alone has any authority in the matter. As you were to be a member -of the deputation, no doubt you can explain the meaning of this request -to interview Donna Bianca?" - -The _sindaco_ hesitated. Then, having made up his mind to lie, he lied -soundly but plausibly, as only an Italian official of the bureaucracy -can lie. - -"It is very simple," he said, with a laugh. "The peasants have got an -idea into their heads that Donna Bianca would take their part and -intercede for them, because--well, because she is an Acorari, and her -excellency the princess is, after all, a stranger. It is mere -sentiment, of course, with a certain amount of shrewdness at the back of -it. No doubt the _parroco_, Don Agostino, has put the idea into their -heads. But there is nothing in it but sentiment--nothing at all, Signor -Abate, I can assure you. I objected to the introduction of Donna -Bianca's name into the business, but it was better to let the -_contadini_ have their own way about what is, after all, a mere trifle. -They do not realize that the _principessina_ has, as you say, no voice -in such matters, being a minor." - -The abbe nodded. "I quite understand," he said, pleasantly. "No doubt -it has been part of the scheme of these agitators to work upon the -sentiment of the peasantry for Donna Bianca, as being their future -_padrona_. But, luckily for her, she has those about her who know how -to protect her interests and to guard her against being imposed upon. -Well, Signor Sindaco, to-morrow morning the princess will send her -answer. It is, as I have already told you, a refusal to receive the -deputation, or to discuss its objects. You may be sure that her -excellency will not give way, no matter what attitude the people may -assume. If that attitude should become threatening, we may have to seek -the aid of the authorities through you. _A proposito_, would it not be -as well to warn the military authorities that a handful of soldiers -might be required to keep order at Montefiano? On the receipt of a -telegram they could then be despatched without delay. You can doubtless -arrange to do this without the matter becoming known; and then, should -it be necessary, we would request you to send the telegram regarding the -immediate presence of the troops. By these means we could give the -idiots the unpleasant surprise of finding that we were prepared for any -folly they might attempt to commit. At least the display of a little -force could do no harm, and would probably have an excellent moral -effect. But not a word, _caro signore_, of our conference to-night. I -trust that your visit to the castle will not have been observed by any -of the people. By-the-way, should there be any fresh development in the -situation to-morrow morning, after the tenor of the princess's reply has -become known, I must beg that you will communicate with me." - -The _sindaco_ of Montefiano took his leave, assuring the Abbe Roux that -all should be done as he had suggested. The evening was dark and rainy, -and he encountered nobody on the steep road leading up to the castle -from the town below. At any rate, the _avvocato_ Ricci thought to -himself, he had secured himself against any misrepresentation at Rome of -his conduct. If Sor Stefano and the peasantry insisted upon continuing -the agitation, there would infallibly be mischief, and in that case it -was as well to be on the winning side, which side must inevitably be -supported by the authorities. It was certainly no affair of his to -enlighten the _abate_ as to the real object of the deputation in having -insisted upon seeing Donna Bianca Acorari. His affair was to avoid -compromising himself in the eyes of the authorities in Rome, and the -Abate Roux would have to weather the storm he had created as best he -could. The lawyer was not a little struck by the Abbe Roux's caution in -providing for a speedy and unexpected appearance on the scene of -military force, should its presence be desirable. "Even Sor Stefano," -he said to himself, with a chuckle, "would talk less loudly if he were -suddenly to find himself confronted by a company of infantry with fixed -bayonets, and he, Augusto Ricci, might earn the approval of the minister -of the interior and head of the government in Rome for his promptitude -in suppressing threatened disorder in the commune of which he was -_sindaco_." - - - - - *XXXI* - - -After leaving the Caffe Garibaldi, Don Agostino returned to his house in -a very thoughtful frame of mind. He had promised to go himself to -Princess Montefiano and put the peasants' case before her. He had -promised, also, that he would speak with Donna Bianca Acorari -personally. The question now arose how he was to accomplish what he had -undertaken. The princess, it was true, could scarcely refuse to receive -him without that refusal being a marked rudeness to him as _parroco_ of -Montefiano; at the same time, Don Agostino was perfectly aware that she -had certainly not displayed any desire to make his personal -acquaintance. He had duly left his card, as politeness required, after -her arrival at the castle, and had received no invitation to repeat his -visit. The fact had not surprised or annoyed him. He had been -tolerably well acquainted with the Abbe Roux in the days when that -ecclesiastic was the secretary to a cardinal who had always been his -bitter enemy, and who, he well knew, had been more active than any one -else at the Vatican in clamoring for his removal and disgrace. The -acquaintance had not been a pleasant one, and certain details in the -abbe's career which happened to have come to his knowledge had not made -Don Agostino desirous of improving it. - -It was not likely, therefore, that the Abbe Roux would welcome his -presence at the castle of Montefiano, and he would doubtless have used -his influence with the princess to prevent her from knowing him in any -way than as a priest on Acorari property, who might sometimes have -occasion to address a letter to her concerning the needs of his -parishioners. - -It was certainly from no personal motives that Don Agostino, as he -walked back to his house that morning, felt almost nervously anxious -lest he should be refused admittance to Princess Montefiano's presence. -When he had sought to defend her against the accusations which he was -well aware had been made against her of unmotherly conduct towards her -step-daughter, he had done so because he believed these accusations to -be, if not altogether unfounded, at least erroneous. He had always felt -confident that the princess was a victim to her own religious -enthusiasm; she had fallen an easy prey to a type of ecclesiastic with -which his experience in Rome had brought him into contact on several -occasions, and of which the Abbe Roux was no uncommon example. He was -convinced that the moment had arrived when the Princess Montefiano's -eyes might be opened, and when it might be demonstrated to her, beyond -any possibility of doubt, that the counsellor in whom she had trusted -had never been worthy of her confidence. - -At the same time it was clear that the Abbe Roux was master of the -actual situation, and that, having succeeded in getting rid of the one -official at Montefiano who for thirty years had had the true interests -of his employers at heart, it was not likely he would permit the -princess to be approached by the _parroco_ of Montefiano, who was known -to regard the agent's dismissal as both a mistake and an injustice. The -position, however, was serious; and all the more so because it was quite -evident that neither the princess nor the abbe realized its gravity. -Any rebellious attitude that the peasants might be driven by -exasperation to assume could, it was true, be ultimately suppressed by -the intervention of the military at the instance of the civil -authorities of the commune. But Don Agostino well knew the legacy of -hatred and smouldering resentment which such intervention almost -invariably left behind it. If he could save his lost Bianca's child -from the enduring unpopularity which her step-mother and the Abbe Roux -were certainly doing their best to bring upon her by their mistaken -policy regarding the administration of her property, he would certainly -do so, at whatever cost to himself. Yes, at four o'clock that afternoon -he would go to the castle. By that hour the princess would certainly be -visible, if she chose to be visible. He would send up his card to her -with an urgent request that she would see him on a matter of grave -importance. If she refused to do so, he would write to her--but such a -letter as would leave her no possibility of mistaking his meaning. - -The afternoon's task was certainly neither an easy nor an agreeable one; -but it must in some way or another be accomplished. At least, Don -Agostino reflected, he would have done his duty to his people at -Montefiano, to Bianca Acorari, and to that absent Bianca who had -assuredly willed that he should strive to protect her child. - -Don Agostino entered his garden through the little gate by the side of -the church. As he approached the house, he was surprised to hear, -through the open window of his study, Ernana talking in earnest tones -inside the room. His surprise was still greater, however, when at the -sound of his footsteps on the gravel-path, Silvio Rossano's form -appeared at the window. For a moment, indeed, Don Agostino felt -something very like dismay. There were complications enough and to -spare without fresh material being added to increase their number. He -had purposely delayed writing again to Silvio, thinking that in a day or -two the threatened disturbances would have either subsided or assumed -proportions which might make his presence at Montefiano desirable in his -own and Bianca Acorari's interest. Don Agostino doubted very much, -however, whether this was the moment for Silvio to be seen at -Montefiano. If his presence became known at the castle, it would -probably be regarded by the princess as a proof that the agitation among -the peasants had a further scope than merely to obtain the redress of -their own and Fontana's grievances. She would not unreasonably suspect -that he, Don Agostino, was using the agitation as a means whereby to -help Silvio Rossano in renewing his endeavors to marry her -step-daughter. As a matter of fact, Don Agostino was quite prepared so -to use it, if its results were such as to encourage him to do so. But -it would most certainly not further Bianca's or Silvio's interests were -it to be supposed that these interests were in any way connected with -the business that would take Don Agostino to the castle that afternoon. - -He hurried into the house and met Silvio in the little passage outside -his study. - -"Am I an unwelcome guest?" Silvio said to him, quickly. "I hope not, -because--" - -"You are always welcome," interrupted Don Agostino, "but--well, to tell -you the truth, Silvio, I am not sure that I am very pleased to see you. -But if I am not pleased, it is on your own account, not on mine. May -one ask what has brought you here so unexpectedly, _ragazzo mio_?" - -Silvio took a crumpled newspaper out of his pocket--the number of the -_Tribuna_ that his father had shown him the night before. - -"That," he replied, briefly, handing the paper to Don Agostino, and -pointing to the telegram dated from Montefiano. - -Don Agostino read it. Then he uttered an exclamation of anger. - -"Idiots!" he exclaimed; "idiots, and cowards, too! This is the Abbe -Roux's doing, of course. Well, it is another blunder, an irremediable -blunder. In two or three hours' time the report will be all over -Montefiano that troops have been sent for. The afternoon post will -bring the _Tribuna_--" He paused in evident agitation. - -"I could not remain quietly in Rome after reading that," said Silvio. -"So I took the morning train, and here I am. At first I could not -understand what it all meant; for Bianca, though she mentioned that -there was some trouble with the people because the Abbe Roux had -persuaded her step-mother to dismiss the _fattore_, certainly did not -write as if it was anything serious. All the same, I was uneasy, for -one never knows what a small matter of this kind may not develop into. -But Ernana, to whom I have been talking while waiting for you, has given -me to understand that it is by no means a small matter, but that the -people are really angry and threatening to force their way into the -castle." - -Don Agostino nodded. "Ernana is right," he said; "it is not a small -thing. I fear, directly this telegram in the _Tribuna_ becomes known, -that it will speedily become a very much bigger thing." - -"Then I am doubly glad that I am here," observed Silvio, quietly. - -Don Agostino glanced at him. "A moment ago," he said, "I wished that -you had not appeared upon the scene. I did not think the time had -arrived for you to do so. It was for this reason I delayed writing to -you. I had hoped that, whatever might occur, no military aid would be -asked for in order to settle a question which only needed to be handled -with a little tact and in a conciliatory spirit. This telegram, however, -alters the aspect of affairs considerably, and, on the whole, yes, -Silvio, I think I am glad you have come. But for the next few hours, at -any rate, you must not show yourself. Do you think your arrival here -has been observed?" he added. - -Silvio shook his head. "I think not," he replied. "Indeed, I hardly -met a soul on my way here from Attigliano." - -"The people are all in the _paese_," said Don Agostino. "The peasants -have come in from miles around. No, you must certainly not be seen--at -all events, till I have been to the castle." - -"You are going to the castle?" Silvio asked, in some surprise. - -Don Agostino briefly related to him the events of the morning, and -explained how, as a last hope of bringing about a pacific solution of -the situation, and of making the princess realize the danger of the -policy the Abbe Roux had made her adopt, he had volunteered to ask to -see her and Bianca Acorari personally. - -"It was by no means easy," he said, "to persuade the more excited among -the people to consent to my going to the princess. They suspected me of -being in sympathy with the Abbe Roux," he added, with a smile. -"Fortunately, however, the _sindaco_ supported me, and I persuaded a -certain Mazza, who is practically the money-lender to all this district, -and who for some reasons of his own is backing up the peasants, to -advise the people to refrain from any further action until I had -communicated to them the results of my interview with the princess. One -thing is very certain," he continued, "I must, if possible, see Princess -Montefiano before the news that troops have been asked for is known in -the place. There is no saying what may not happen, in the mood the -peasants are now in, should it be known that the princess has sought the -intervention of the authorities rather than consent to receive a -deputation." - -"The telegram does not say that troops have actually been -requisitioned," said Silvio; "it alludes to the probability of their -being so, if the situation at Montefiano should not improve. It appears -to me," he continued, "that the communication is something in the nature -of a warning, or a threat, whichever you like to call it." - -Don Agostino read the paragraph in the _Tribuna_ again. - -"That is true," he said, "and you are right, Silvio. Whoever -communicated the intelligence to the _Tribuna_ probably intended it both -as a warning and as a threat. Well, as the former, it will have very -little effect. As the latter, it will have a very bad effect, for it -will be bitterly resented, unless I am much mistaken. In the mean time, -there is no time to be lost. We must trust to the people keeping quiet -for another few hours, until I have been to the castle. But you, my -friend, must remain quietly here, unseen by anybody. I shall tell -Ernana she must hold her tongue about your arrival. For you have become -a celebrity in Montefiano, Silvio," he added, with a smile, "and -everybody would know what had brought you here." - -"Ah," exclaimed Silvio, "that is a thing I do not understand! How in -the world have the people here got to know about Bianca and myself? -Certainly the princess would not allow it to be talked about by anybody -belonging to her household; and who else, except yourself, knows of it?" - -Don Agostino shrugged his shoulders. "It is known by everybody that -Donna Bianca has declared that she will marry nobody if she does not -marry you," he replied. "Indeed," he continued, "I believe it is this -love-affair of the _principessina_, as they call her, that has done more -than anything else to arouse the indignation of the people against the -princess and her brother and against the Abbe Roux. As yet they have not -seen the young Roman whom their _padrona_ wishes for a husband instead -of Baron d'Antin. When they do see him-- But do not let us waste any -more time in talking, Silvio. Before we do anything else, let us have -breakfast. You must be quite ready for it after your journey, and it is -nearly one o'clock." - -A couple of hours later Don Agostino left his house, and, choosing a -lane leading through the outskirts of the town, in order to avoid the -groups of peasants which would still be thronging the main street, made -his way to the castle, having extracted a promise from Silvio that the -latter would not go into the _paese_ until he had returned from his -visit to the princess. - -He could not help suspecting that his appearance at the entrance-gate of -the castle was not altogether unexpected; for the two servants who, in -response to his ringing the bell, drew back a lattice and surveyed him -from the inside, promptly closed it, and threw open the great wooden -doors studded with heavy iron nails, and as promptly closed and bolted -them again as soon as he had passed into the court-yard. - -Don Agostino informed them that he had come to see her excellency the -princess on important business, and producing his card, asked that it -might be taken to her at once, with the urgent request that she would -receive him. - -He was conducted across the court and up a flight of steps leading into -a large hall on the first floor of the building, where he was left while -the domestics went to execute their commission. In a few minutes one of -the men returned. He was desired by her excellency to tell his -reverence that she regretted being unable to receive him in person, but -her brother, Baron d'Antin, and the Abbe Roux would be happy to see him -in her place. - -Don Agostino attempted to demur. It was of the greatest importance, he -said, that he should see her excellency personally. - -The venerable _maggior-domo_ spread out his hands with an apologetic -gesture. He was grieved, he declared, to be obliged to disappoint his -reverence, but her excellency had given strict orders that she was not -to be disturbed--that she could receive no one. The Signor Barone and -the Abbe Roux were ready to receive his reverence, if he would be -pleased to follow him. - -Don Agostino hesitated for a moment. Then he came to the conclusion -that he had better accept the compromise that had evidently been made. -Perhaps, indeed, the princess's absence might be an advantage. He could -speak very plainly to Monsieur d'Antin and to the Abbe Roux if it became -necessary to do so--more plainly, perhaps, than he could have done had -Princess Montefiano been present. At any rate, he was inside the -castle, and had been offered an opportunity of discussing the situation -with those who were chiefly responsible for its existence, and this was -something gained. - -He had thought it more than likely that he would not be admitted within -the castle walls, and that he would have to return to the _paese_ with -the intelligence that he had failed in his mission. - -He followed the _maggior-domo_ through the long gallery, with which the -hall where he had waited communicated, and was ushered into the room -used by the Abbe Roux as his study. The abbe, however, was not present, -and Monsieur d'Antin came forward and introduced himself. His sister, -he assured Don Agostino, much regretted her inability to receive him, -but the events of the last day or two had somewhat upset her--and, after -all, if he were not mistaken, Monsignor Lelli's business was more -suitable for discussion by himself and Monsieur l'Abbe Roux than by -ladies--was it not so? Monsieur l'Abbe would join them in a few -minutes. In the mean time, anything that Monsignor Lelli might wish to -say, he, Baron d'Antin, would faithfully refer to the princess. -_Monsignore_ spoke French, of course? That was well, for Monsieur -d'Antin's Italian was not sufficiently fluent to embark upon a business -conversation. A cigarette? No? Well, if it was permitted, he would -smoke one himself, and he was all attention, if _monsignore_ would -proceed. - -Don Agostino sat and watched the baron quietly. Monsieur d'Antin was -very suave--very polite, and nothing could be more conciliatory than his -attitude. It seemed, indeed, as though he were tacitly apologizing for -his sister's refusal to receive the _parroco_, and that he was only -anxious to do his best to remove all misunderstandings. Don Agostino -recognized the diplomatic manner, and, so to speak, took Baron d'Antin's -measure before he had uttered a dozen words. - -"Doubtless, monsieur," he said, "you are aware of the object of my -visit. The importance of that object must be my excuse for seeking to -intrude myself upon Madame la Princesse. I regret that she is unable to -receive me, because it is to her and to Donna Bianca Acorari that I am, -as it were, accredited by the people of Montefiano. However, one cannot -question a lady's right to receive or to refuse to receive a visitor, -especially if that visitor comes on an unpleasant errand. - -"Monsieur le Baron, I think there is no necessity to waste words, and -this is not the moment to discuss the rights and the wrongs of the -questions which are agitating the minds of the people here at -Montefiano. I have come to ask--nay, to implore the princess to -reconsider her refusal to receive the deputation suggested by the -peasants, and to allow me to tell the people that she and Donna Bianca -will listen to their representatives. The people are within their -rights, monsieur, and it is I, their priest, who tell you so. They have -been treated unjustly in the name of Casa Acorari, and they appeal to -the princess and to Donna Bianca Acorari for permission personally to -represent their grievances." - -Monsieur d'Antin nodded gravely. "I quite understand your view of the -matter, Monsieur le Cure," he said. "It is natural that the sympathies -of a priest should be with his people; but you must remember that my -sister has to regard the question from a business, and not from the -sentimental, point of view. Her position obliges her to think, first of -all, of her step-daughter, Donna Bianca's, interests. Those in whom my -sister confides to advise her in business matters connected with the -Montefiano property, do not share your view as to any injustice having -been committed." - -"Because, monsieur," returned Don Agostino, bluntly, "Madame la -Princesse confides in individuals who are ignorant as to the condition -in which the people live, and who are, therefore, incompetent to advise -her--" - -At this moment the door opened, and the Abbe Roux entered the room. The -greeting between him and Monsignor Lelli, if courteous, was certainly -not cordial. It was some years since they had last beheld each other, -but no allusion was made by either to their past acquaintance. - -Monsieur d'Antin looked quickly at the abbe as he came into the room, -and Don Agostino fancied that, as he returned the glance, the Abbe Roux -shook his head almost imperceptibly. - -"Monsignor Lelli," Monsieur d'Antin observed airily, "has come this -afternoon as an ambassador from--what shall we call them, Monsieur -l'Abbe--the rebels, eh? He wishes my sister to reconsider her refusal -to receive their deputation." - -"It would seem scarcely necessary for madame to do so," said the abbe, -coldly. "Monsignor Lelli," he continued, "has apparently taken upon -himself the functions of the deputation." - -"Precisely, monsieur," observed Don Agostino, tranquilly. "It seemed to -me not impossible that the princess and Donna Bianca Acorari might -listen to my representations as _parroco_ of Montefiano, even though the -reception of a deputation might not be permitted by their advisers." - -The Abbe Roux frowned angrily. - -"Permitted, monsieur!" he repeated. "I do not understand you. The -princess stands in no need of permission to act as she thinks fit and as -may be advantageous to Donna Bianca's future interests. Nor do I -understand why you assume Donna Bianca Acorari to have any voice in what -the princess may choose to do as her guardian. You must surely be well -aware that, until she is of age, Donna Bianca has absolutely nothing to -say in the management of her properties. It is, therefore, absurd to -drag her name into any question arising in connection with that -management." - -Don Agostino looked at him steadily. "I am aware that Donna Bianca does -not enter into the full possession of her estates until she is of -age--or until she marries," he said. "Nevertheless, the fact does not -prevent her from being regarded by the people in and round Montefiano as -their mistress--as the only child of and successor to the late Prince of -Montefiano. And the people will insist on regarding her as such, and -upon being permitted access to her. - -"It is not for me, Monsieur l'Abbe, to discuss what may be your motives -for advising the princess to pursue a course which is not only unjust to -the people, but injurious to her step-daughter's true interests. I have -come here this afternoon to warn the princess that the people intend to -insist upon being heard, not by her only, but by Donna Bianca Acorari. -They are loyal to Donna Bianca--but--you must pardon me for my plain -speaking--they look upon the princess as a foreigner who allows foreign -influence to interfere between them and their lawful _padrona_. At any -moment, Monsieur l'Abbe, unless you advise the princess to adopt a more -conciliatory course, you may hear this from the people themselves. They -will tell it you more roughly than I have told it you." - -The Abbe Roux laughed disagreeably. "You are very disinterested, -_monsignore_," he remarked, "but I regret that I cannot accept your -views upon business matters--and this affair of the peasants is purely a -business--a financial--matter. You may very possibly be mistaken in -your judgment, _monsignore_. It would not be the first time, I think, -that you were mistaken in your estimate of sound finance. No, Madame la -Princesse will not, I imagine, be disposed to accept your advice on such -matters." - -The sneer and the insinuation contained in the abbe's words were patent -enough, and for a moment Don Agostino reddened with anger. He -restrained himself with an effort, however. It was very evident that -the Abbe Roux was losing his temper; and time, valuable time, was -passing. - -Don Agostino shrugged his shoulders, and then, turning his back upon the -abbe, he addressed Monsieur d'Antin, whose face he had noticed with some -surprise had worn a sudden but unmistakable look of disgust and contempt -while the Abbe Roux was speaking. - -"Monsieur le Baron," he said, quietly, "I appeal to you as to one who is -not a professional man of business in the employ of Madame la Princesse, -but who is her brother, and who may therefore not be altogether -influenced by pecuniary considerations. I entreat you to take my -warning to the princess, and to persuade her to allow me to return, -while there is yet time, to the people, with the news that I have spoken -with her and with Donna Bianca, and that she is prepared to make some -concessions. I entreat you, also, to recall, in her name, the -application which has been made for military aid--" - -The abbe and Monsieur d'Antin both started. "How, monsieur?" exclaimed -the abbe. "Military aid! What folly is this? Who talks of military -aid having been applied for?" - -Don Agostino drew Silvio's _Tribuna_ from his _soutane_ and gave it to -Monsieur d'Antin. - -"If it has not been actually applied for," he said, pointing to the -telegram from Montefiano, "its requisition is threatened. That -newspaper arrives in Montefiano every afternoon from Rome," he added, -"and by this time the telegram will have been read by everybody in the -_paese_." - -The Abbe Roux muttered something very like an oath under his breath. -Then he looked furtively, almost apologetically, at Don Agostino. - -"Absurd!" he exclaimed. "A mere canard! Probably some occasional -correspondent to the _Tribuna_, in Montefiano thought he would be very -clever and anticipate events." - -Don Agostino looked at him narrowly. It was clear that, whoever had -sent the telegram to the _Tribuna_, the abbe was disagreeably surprised -by its publication. He looked, indeed, both taken aback and ill at -ease. Don Agostino, always watching him, saw him take out his watch and -look at it, glancing at Monsieur d'Antin as he did so. - -"_Enfin_, monsieur," said Don Agostino, again addressing Monsieur -d'Antin, "once more I appeal to you as the brother of Madame la -Princesse. Am I to go back to the people and tell them that I have -obtained nothing, and that I have not been permitted to see either the -princess or Donna Bianca? Monsieur," he added, earnestly, "let me beg -of you to consider. So little is demanded of the princess--so much -bitterness and misery will be the result of not giving way. At least -send a telegram to countermand any despatch of troops to Montefiano, and -authorize me to tell the people that the telegram in the _Tribuna_ was -communicated without there being any foundation for it." - -Monsieur d'Antin rose from the arm-chair in which he had been smoking -cigarettes unremittingly. - -"One moment, my dear monsieur," he said to Don Agostino; "believe me, if -the matter rested with me, you should go back to your peasants with -hands full of concessions. But I have no influence with my sister in -these matters. I do not think she understands them; that is true. But -unfortunately she knows that I understand them even less than she does. -After all, it is natural. We are not Italians, as you pointed out to -Monsieur l'Abbe just now." - -"It is not necessary to be Italian, monsieur, in order to understand -when injustices are being committed. A little common sympathy and a -little common-sense are all that is required in this instance; and these -qualities are not the exclusive attribute of my compatriots," said Don -Agostino, dryly. - -The Abbe Roux came forward and placed himself between Don Agostino and -Monsieur d'Antin. - -"Monsieur le Baron," he said, casting an angry glance at Don Agostino, -"it seems to me that we are wasting time. Monsignor Lelli has come here, -apparently, with the object of attempting to induce the princess to give -way to the insolent demands of these ignorant peasants, and to dictate -to her what she should and should not do. Well, I, Monsieur le Baron, -as you well know, am honored by the princess's confidence; and, as you -also know, I am deputed by her excellency to give Monsignor Lelli her -final and definite answer to his representations on behalf of the -peasants and their friends." - -Don Agostino interrupted him. - -"How did the princess know that I was coming here to-day on behalf of -the peasants?" he asked, abruptly. - -The Abbe Roux looked suddenly perplexed; and Monsieur d'Antin joined the -tips of his fingers together and laughed softly to himself. Don -Agostino glanced at him keenly. Baron d'Antin's manner puzzled him. It -was the manner that an amused spectator of a comedy might display, but -it was certainly not fitting to one of the characters on the stage. - -The abbe scowled. "_Parbleu!_" he exclaimed, roughly, "we are not all -imbeciles here; and we are better informed as to what has been going on -than Monsignor Lelli is aware! We know, for instance, that he did not -hesitate to compromise his position as _parroco_ by encouraging with his -presence a meeting held this morning in a _caffe_ by the leaders of this -agitation, and that he took upon himself the responsibility of being -their spokesman. Ah, yes, _monsignore_, the princess expected your -visit this afternoon; but, as you see, she altogether declines to -receive you in person." - -Don Agostino turned to him with quiet dignity. - -"So be it, Monsieur l'Abbe," he said, tranquilly. "The princess must -take the responsibility of declining to receive me in person, and to -allow me access to Donna Bianca Acorari. Nevertheless, I am here as the -representative of Donna Bianca's people, and I will discharge my duty. -I shall say, boldly--" - -"To the princess and Donna Bianca? No, _monsignore_, you will not have -the opportunity. It would be well that you should understand this -finally." - -"No, not to the princess and Donna Bianca, but to you!" continued Don -Agostino. "You tell me that you are honored with the princess's entire -confidence. I hope that she equally enjoys your own, Monsieur l'Abbe. -If so, you will repeat to her what I say. As you are aware that I -attended the meeting held this morning in the principal _caffe_ of -Montefiano, you are, no doubt, also aware of the attitude of the people -towards the princess, towards Monsieur le Baron d'Antin, and towards -yourself. You no doubt know that they regard you, Monsieur l'Abbe Roux, -as a foreigner who has abused the confidence the princess has had in you -as a priest, in order by degrees to fill your own pockets out of Donna -Bianca Acorari's possessions and at the expense of the people. You -doubtless know that they accuse you of being the real lessee of the -rents paid by the tenants on this estate, and believe that the recent -raising of those rents and the dismissal of the _fattore_ Fontana, for -having protested against any increase in the rent, was due to you. You -will have heard, also, that you are credited with having devised a -scheme whereby Donna Bianca Acorari is to marry Monsieur le Baron -d'Antin in order to keep her patrimony in the family--so to speak--and -enable you to continue to administer the properties for some years to -come. Of course, Monsieur l'Abbe, you know all this, since you are well -informed of what is being said and done in Montefiano." - -The Abbe Roux's face while Don Agostino was speaking presented a study -in some of the various feelings capable of being reflected on the human -countenance. Anger, mortification, dismay--all these displayed -themselves in turn as he listened to Don Agostino's words, each one of -which was delivered with a calm incisiveness which added to the force of -his speech. - -"_Monsignore!_" he exclaimed, furiously. "Are you aware of what you are -saying? Monsieur le Baron," he added, turning to Monsieur d'Antin, -"this is an insult--not to me only, but to the princess and to -yourself--" - -Monsieur d'Antin looked from one to the other curiously, almost as if he -enjoyed the situation. - -"I think not, Monsieur l'Abbe," he said, with a little smile, and -rubbing his white hands gently together. "I think not, my dear friend. -Monsignor Lelli is merely stating the opinion that others hold -concerning you--or concerning us, perhaps I should say. He does not, I -am convinced, mean us to suppose that he shares this opinion." - -Don Agostino was silent. - -"In any case," continued Monsieur d'Antin, with a slight shrug of the -shoulders as the silence became markedly prolonged, "it is not worth -your while to be angry, my dear abbe, for Monsignor Lelli might regard -your anger as a proof that the peasants at Montefiano are a very shrewd -race--ha, ha, ha!" and he broke into a gentle laugh which sounded -genuine enough, but certainly did not tend to allay the abbe's fury. - -"No," he continued. "Let us remain calm, I beg of you, and let us hear -what else Monsignor Lelli has to tell us from these admirable peasants." - -"I have little else to add to what I have already said," observed Don -Agostino, "and I make no apologies for the words I have used. They are -plain words, and even the Abbe Roux will not, I think, misunderstand -them. As to my own opinion--well, I agree with you, Monsieur le Baron, -that the people of Montefiano are shrewd, and I believe their -accusations to be just." - -The Abbe Roux made a step forward, and, purple with rage, shook his -clinched fist in Don Agostino's face. - -"And you," he exclaimed, "you, whom the Holy Father sent to minister to -these pigs of peasants in order to avoid the scandal of proceeding -against you for fraudulent speculation with money intrusted to you, you -dare to bring these accusations against me! Liar, hypocrite, pig--like -the peasants you represent!" - -"My dear friend," remonstrated Monsieur d'Antin, laying his hand on the -abbe's arm, "let me implore you to be calm. Recollect that you and -Monsignor Lelli are priests--that you both wear the _soutane_. You -cannot demand satisfaction of each other in the usual way--you cannot -challenge each other to a duel. It would be--excessively funny," and -Monsieur d'Antin laughed again, in evident enjoyment of the idea. -"Besides," he continued, "Monsignor Lelli has, no doubt, more to tell -us. We have not yet heard what it is that the peasants require of my -sister." - -"Monsieur," said Don Agostino, "I can answer for the peasants that, if -they are allowed to see and speak with Donna Bianca Acorari, they will -certainly not proceed to any excesses. They will probably return -quietly to their occupations." - -"And you," interrupted the Abbe Roux, in a voice that was hoarse and -trembling with anger, "can take back to the peasants the princess's -answer which I am commissioned to give in her name. The answer is, that -they will not be permitted to see Donna Bianca Acorari, who has nothing -to say in the matter of the administration of these lands, or to -approach her with any story of their grievances. The princess, -_monsignore_, is perfectly well aware of all that underlies this -agitation, and that it is directed chiefly against myself. She will not -be intimidated into recalling Giuseppe Fontana, or into lowering the -rents. She--" - -He stopped abruptly. A confused sound of voices came from the gallery -outside, and a moment afterwards the door was flung hastily open and the -old _maggior-domo_ burst into the room, followed by several of the -servants, who stood in a frightened group on the threshold. - -"The _contadini_!" he exclaimed. "There is a crowd of three hundred or -more outside the entrance-gates, and they declare that if the gates are -not opened, they will break them down, Signor Abate! Ah, _Madonna mia_! -It is a _repubblica_--a revolution--listen!" and rushing across the -gallery, he threw open one of the windows looking into the court-yard. - -The thick walls of the castle had effectually prevented any sound from -penetrating to the apartments on the other side of the gallery, all of -which were situated in the portion of the building added to the -mediaeval fortress by Cardinal Acorari, and overlooked the terrace and -open country beneath it. From the gallery, however, the angry roar of -an excited mob could distinctly be heard; and, when the windows were -opened by the old _maggior-domo_, shouts of "Down with the foreigners! -Long live the Principessina Bianca!" became plainly audible. - -Don Agostino looked at the abbe and Monsieur d'Antin. "You see, -monsieur," he said, quietly, to the latter, "I did not exaggerate -matters. But even now it is not too late. If the princess and Donna -Bianca will show themselves to the peasants, and allow me to address the -people in their name, I am confident that order will quickly be -restored. Hark!" he added. "They are attempting to break open the -gates." And even as he spoke, the noise of heavy blows falling on -wood-work re-echoed through the court-yard. - -Monsieur d'Antin, to do him justice, appeared to be far more composed -than the Abbe Roux. He listened for a moment or two almost impassively -to the shouts and the uproar which were growing ever louder and more -violent. The abbe, on the contrary, was trembling with an excitement -that might have proceeded either from fear or from rage, and probably, -as Don Agostino thought, from both. He had his watch in his hand, and -looked at it repeatedly, as though counting every minute that passed. -Don Agostino noticed his action, and as he did so a sudden suspicion -dawned upon him. - -Monsieur d'Antin drew the abbe aside, and spoke with him for a minute or -so in an undertone. The Abbe Roux, it was evident, dissented -energetically from his remarks, and finally, with a shrug of the -shoulders, Monsieur d'Antin left him and advanced to Don Agostino. - -"Monsieur le Cure," he said, "as I have already told you, my sister does -not take advice from me as to the management of her affairs, and I -frankly confess to you that I do not understand the situation -sufficiently to make interference on my part warrantable. The Abbe Roux -is my sister's adviser in all that concerns her affairs. I must refer -you to him." - -Monsieur d'Antin approached the window again; and then, taking his -cigarette-case from his pocket, he proceeded to light a cigarette with -quiet deliberation. Don Agostino glanced at him almost with approval. -At any rate, he reflected, Baron d'Antin, whatever else he might be, was -no coward, and knew how to _se tirer d'affaires_ like a gentleman. - -"Yes," exclaimed the Abbe Roux, "you, Monsieur le Cure, have to refer to -me in this matter. And I tell you again that it is useless that you and -the _canaille_ attempt to intimidate the princess--absolutely useless. -What did I say to you a few minutes ago? We are not imbeciles -here--certainly not imbeciles, monsieur; as you and your friends outside -will find out--if they dare to continue this violence much longer. No; -go to these insolent peasants, and tell them that your mission has -failed." - -Don Agostino looked the abbe steadily in the face for a moment, and -then, without a word, turned his back upon him for the second time that -afternoon. - -"Monsieur le Baron," he said, coldly, "it would be well that you should -inform the princess what is taking place, and you will doubtless know -how to prevent her and Donna Bianca Acorari from being unduly alarmed. -I have done my office here, and it is not my fault if I have failed. My -place now is with my people." - -Don Agostino was about to pass Monsieur d'Antin with a formal bow, when -the latter suddenly held out his hand. - -"_Monsignore_," he said, "you came as a peacemaker; and, believe me, I -regret that you do not take away with you terms of peace. I regret it, -I repeat, and I am not responsible for what has occurred, or for what -may occur." - -Don Agostino scarcely heard him. He hurried down the gallery and across -the entrance-hall, followed by two trembling domestics, who unbarred the -doors opening on to the court-yard. - -By this time the fury of the crowd at finding itself prevented from -entering the castle had passed all bounds of control. Blow after blow -rained upon the wooden gates leading into the court; and suddenly, while -Don Agostino was in the act of crossing the court-yard, the gates burst -open with a crash, having given way before the impetus of a mad rush -from the mob without. - -For a moment the peasants stood undecided--surprised, perhaps, at the -sudden yielding of the gates. - -Don Agostino, seeing their indecision, advanced towards them. - -"My friends--" he began. - -A great shout drowned his voice. - -"_Traditore! Vigliacco d'un prete!_" - -Then a stone struck him, and, with a hoarse roar like that of an angry -beast, the crowd surged into the court-yard. - - - - - *XXXII* - - -The stone hurled at Don Agostino had fortunately only hit him on the -body, for, owing to the violence with which it had been thrown, it -certainly would have stunned him had it struck him on the head. As it -was, however, the folds of his _soutane_ somewhat broke the force of the -blow. Don Agostino was scarcely conscious that he had been struck, so -great was his amazement at the savage reception he had met with at the -hands of his parishioners. Looking round on the angry faces and -threatening gestures of the mob of peasants in front of him, Don -Agostino speedily realized that neither Sor Stefano nor any of the more -prominent supporters of the peasantry were among those who had forced -their way into the court-yard. A feeling of anger and indignation took -possession of him as he noted the fact. It was the usual thing, he -thought bitterly--the invariable system of the incitement of the poor -and the ignorant to do the dirty work by those who would instantly -desert them in the hour of danger. - -Disgust at what he believed to be treachery on the part of those who had -been mainly instrumental in instigating the peasants to their present -action quickly took the place of the surprise and indignation that Don -Agostino had felt at the way in which the people had suddenly turned -against him. - -Without hesitation, and with a demeanor as calm and composed as though -he were mounting the steps of his pulpit, he ascended the double stone -staircase leading from the court-yard to the doors from which he had -issued only a minute or two previously. The doors were shut and bolted -now. The servants had fled precipitately at the sight of the -entrance-gates giving way before the assault of the mob, and Don -Agostino found himself alone with an angry and menacing crowd -confronting him, and behind him the great Renaissance palace of Cardinal -Acorari, with its portal barred, and the wooden shutters outside the -windows on the _piano nobile_ already closed by its inmates. He stopped -at the top of the first flight of steps; and, advancing to the stone -balustrade, looked down on the peasants below him. - -They were still crowded together round the entrance-gates, and seemed as -though uncertain what their next move should be. Possibly, too, they -were taken aback at finding themselves within a deserted court-yard, -with closed windows all round them, and nothing but the solitary black -figure of Don Agostino standing in front of the entrance to that portion -of the castle inhabited by the princess and Bianca Acorari. - -Drawing himself up to his full height, Don Agostino made a gesture as -though to wave back a group of peasants who, detaching themselves from -the rest, were approaching the flight of steps on which he stood--a -gesture that was almost imperious. - -"You have broken your word to me," he cried; "you, and those who have -sent you here and are afraid to come themselves! You promised that you -would make no move until I returned from the castle--" Shouts of -"_Abbasso il pretaccio_! Liar--traitor!" interrupted and drowned his -words. - -Don Agostino's eyes flashed with anger. - -"Silence!" he exclaimed. "And if there is a man among you, let him -stand out and tell me what you mean--what you accuse me of. Choose your -spokesman. I am waiting to hear what he has to say." He folded his -arms and leaned against the balustrade almost indifferently. His -demeanor was not lost on the crowd, composed of peasants though it was. -Its members fell to talking excitedly among themselves, and presently -one of the younger men came forward. Don Agostino recognized him as the -speaker at the Caffe Garibaldi that morning, who had advocated no delay -in going to the castle and insisting on seeing Donna Bianca Acorari in -person. - -"You ask us what it is we accuse you of!" he exclaimed, in a threatening -voice. "_Porca Madonna_!" - -"There is no necessity to be blasphemous," interrupted Don Agostino, -sternly. - -"If it had not been for your promises, and because we believed that you -would not deceive us, we should have been here this morning. You -persuaded us to delay, because all the time you knew that the soldiers -had been sent for." - -"I did not know it," said Don Agostino, in a voice that rang through the -court-yard. "I swear that I did not know it until I read the telegram -in the paper that you have probably all seen. Even now I do not know -that the report is true. In the castle they deny that there has ever -been any idea of sending for troops, and, still more, that they have -been actually sent for. You accuse me of having deceived you. I tell -you that until a few minutes ago I have been doing my best to persuade -the princess to give you a hearing. But other counsels have prevailed, -and I have not succeeded in seeing either her or the Principessina Donna -Bianca. No--I have deceived you in nothing, but you have been deceived -all the same. You have been deceived by those who have encouraged you -to come here and commit acts of violence, but who have, nevertheless, -taken good care not to compromise themselves. Now, my friends, I have -answered your accusations. What further reasons have you to give for -turning against me, who have never done anything to deserve your want of -confidence?" - -Cries of "_E vero! E vero!_" greeted Don Agostino's words, and a few -shouts of "_Evviva il parroco!_" were raised from the back of the crowd. - -Don Agostino slowly descended the steps, and advanced towards the -foremost group of peasants. - -"Listen to me, _ragazzi miei_," he said. "Be wise and go back to the -_paese_, quietly. I told you this morning that you would obtain nothing -by violence, and I tell it you again. There are other means--better -means--of obtaining your rights than by committing wrongs. Have I ever -deceived you? I think not. Did I deceive _you_, Angelo Frassi, when -you were nearly crippled for life, and I sent you to the hospital in -Rome, and you came back cured? Or _you_, Pietro Santucci, when your -mother was dying, and you had not money left in the house to buy a piece -of meat to make her a cup of broth? _Via, figli miei_, you have called -me some hard names, but I think, all the same, that you will trust me -for a little yet." - -Don Agostino paused, and an outburst of cheering came from his audience. -The peasants he had named, who were among the most threatening of the -younger men among the mob, shrunk back shamefaced and abashed. The -_parroco's_ appeal was true, and they knew it to be so. There were few -in the crowd, moreover, who, in some way or another, had not experienced -Don Agostino's sympathy and generosity. - -Almost mechanically they made way for him to pass between their ranks, -and followed him over the debris of the broken gates out on to the -square-paved piazza, in front of the walls and round battlemented towers -flanking the main entrance to the castle. - -Don Agostino had just breathed a sigh of relief at the effects of his -appeal, when a band of some fifty or sixty men, accompanied by as many -women and children, rushed into the piazza out of the steep road leading -up to the castle from the town. - -"The troops!" they shouted. "The troops! They are entering the town -now. In a few minutes they will be here!" - -A howl of rage answered them from the mob of peasants behind and around -Don Agostino. - -"_Traditore--traditore! porco d'un prete_! It was for this you were -waiting--deceiving us with your lies till you knew the soldiers would be -here! Ah, _vigliacco_!" - -A rush was made at him by those nearest, and Don Agostino had just time -to defend himself from a blow dealt with the handle of a broken spade, -the end of which was still covered by the rusty iron ferrule. His -suspicions were verified now. The Abbe Roux had lied to him, and when -Don Agostino had seen him glancing every now and again at his watch, he -had been calculating how many minutes might elapse before the appearance -of the troops he had caused to be summoned. It had been the knowledge -that these troops were in the vicinity that had doubtless given the abbe -courage to refuse to listen to any representations, even from Monsieur -d'Antin, as to the advisability of treating with the peasants. - -It had been the suspicion--nay, almost the certainty, that the Abbe Roux -was lying, and that troops had already been requisitioned, which had -made Don Agostino determined if possible to persuade the peasants to -leave the court-yard of the castle. If the troops should arrive when -the mob was within the walls, the peasants would be caught, as it were, -in a trap, and any additional act of violence on their part, or error of -judgment on the part of the officers of the _pubblica sicurezza_, who, -in accordance with the law, would have to accompany the officer -commanding and call upon him to order the soldiers to charge or fire on -the crowd, might lead to appalling results. - -It had been of the safety of his people that Don Agostino had been -thinking, far more than of his own safety, and even now, with the angry -mob shouting execrations and threats upon him for his treachery, he -reproached himself bitterly for having played into the Abbe Roux's -hands, by delaying his exit from the castle until the peasants had -already commenced their assault. - -He had little time to think of this now, however. It was in vain that -he attempted for a moment to make his voice heard above the din. The -mob was too angry now, too certain that it had been deceived, to listen -to him a second time, and Don Agostino knew it. - -He turned and faced the crowd in silence, and the thought of the irony -of his situation brought a fleeting smile to his lips. How could the -peasants know that he sympathized with them--that it was not he who had -deceived them, but that he himself had been deceived? - -"_Morte--morte al pretaccio! Morte all 'assassino!_" - -Well, death must come some time; and, at any rate, he had tried to do -his duty. Death, perhaps, would come to him as it had done to his -Master, at the hands of those who knew not what they did. - -"_Morte--morte al traditore!_" - -A heavy blow struck from behind him fell upon his head, causing him to -reel and totter back. Don Agostino shut his eyes, and his lips moved -silently. Surely, death was very near now. Surely-- - -Suddenly another voice sounded in his ears. His name was shouted out -loudly; yes, but in very different accents from those of the peasants -now closing round him. - -Don Agostino opened his eyes in time to see two men with raised -reaping-hooks, who were apparently about to strike him a more deadly -blow than the rest, hurled right and left, and the next moment Silvio -Rossano stood by his side. - -"Stand back!" Silvio shouted. "Back, I say, or by God, I will blow the -brains out of the first man who comes within a metre of Don Agostino!" -and as he spoke he covered the nearest peasant with a revolver. - -"_Coraggio_, Don Agostino!" he said, quickly, "you are not hurt--no? In -a minute or two the troops will be here. Ah, I could stay no longer. I -knew the mob had gone to the castle, and that you were still there. And -then, on my way here, I met Fontana and his daughter, and they told me -the peasants had turned against you. When I heard that I ran as hard as -I could--and here I am!" - -Don Agostino felt sick and dizzy from the blow he had received. "You -are just in time, Silvio _mio_," he said. "Another minute, and who knows -whether you would have found me alive? Oh, but it is not their fault, -the poor people--they think that I knew the troops had been sent for, -and that I meant to deceive them." - -The peasants, who had fallen back at Silvio's unexpected appearance and -at the sight of his revolver, now began to crowd round Don Agostino -again, and once more cries of "_Morte al pretaccio!_" were raised, -coupled with threats against Silvio and curses at his interference. - -Suddenly a woman's voice rose above the uproar. "Fools!--idiots! Are -you trying to murder your best friend, Don Agostino? And that -other---do you know who he is? He is the _fidanzato_ of the -Principessina Bianca!" - -The voice was Concetta Fontana's. Accompanied by her father and Sor -Stefano, she forced her way through the crowd to where Don Agostino and -Silvio were standing. - -"Yes," roared out Sor Beppe, "my daughter is right--and you--you are -pigs and beasts, and it is I who say it! Don Agostino knew no more than -I did that the soldiers had been summoned. _Evviva il fidanzato della -principessina!_" - -The effect of Sor Beppe's intervention was instantaneous, and the mob -took up his cry, while Concetta, after whispering a few words in her -father's ear, disappeared within the gateway of the castle. - -Suddenly a cry arose from the end of the piazza. "The troops--the -troops!" - -The leaders of the peasants shouted to the rest to follow them. "Back -to the castle!" they cried. "The soldiers shall find us there!" and the -crowd surged again through the broken-down gates into the court-yard. - -"For the love of God, come!" exclaimed Don Agostino to his companions. -"We must put ourselves between them and the soldiers, or who knows what -may happen? You, Signor Mazza, speak to the peasants--they will listen -to you." Accompanied by Silvio, Fontana, and Sor Stefano, Don Agostino -hurried to the gateway and entered the court-yard. Already the mob had -swarmed up the staircase at the opposite end of the court, and the -foremost were attempting to break in the great double doors in the -centre of the _piano nobile_. - -They were scarcely inside the court, when the quick tramp of armed men -was heard in the piazza; a sharp word of command re-echoed through the -gateway, and then a long metallic rattle of steel, as a company of -grenadiers and a detachment of infantry fixed bayonets. A moment -afterwards the _granatieri_ marched through the gateway, the officer in -command of them being accompanied by a delegate of public safety wearing -the tricolor scarf. - -The delegate stepped forward, and in the name of the law called upon the -rioters to desist. A shout of defiance answered his words. "We go to -see our _padrona! Evviva la principessina, abbasso gli stranieri!_" and -a volley of blows resounded on the doors at the top of the double flight -of steps. - -At this moment the outside shutters of a window in the gallery were -thrown open, and the Abbe Roux appeared at it. - -"Signor Delegate," he cried, "in the name of the Principessa di -Montefiano, I call upon you to protect the inhabitants of this castle -from the assault of a disorderly mob. Those men," he added, pointing to -Don Agostino and his companions, "are the ringleaders--they are -responsible for this agitation." - -A howl of execration from the mob followed the Abbe Roux's speech, and -sticks and stones were hurled at the window at which he was standing. - -The delegate looked from the abbe to Don Agostino and Silvio Rossano, -who was standing by his side, in some perplexity. - -"Your names, _signori_," he said, curtly. - -"Agostino Lelli, _parroco_ of Montefiano." - -"Silvio Rossano, son of the Senator Rossano." - -"_Evviva! Evviva il fidanzato della nostra principessina!_" shouted the -crowd. - -The official looked up to the window again. - -"There is surely some mistake--" he began. - -"I tell you, Signor Delegate, that there is no mistake," shouted the -Abbe Roux. "Is this a time to waste words, when in a moment the mob -will be inside the castle?" - -The delegate shrugged his shoulders. Then he turned to Don Agostino and -Silvio. "Signori," he said, courteously, "I must ask you to consider -yourselves under arrest pending further inquiries. Have the kindness to -place yourselves behind the troops!" - -The peasants began to leave the staircase and flock into the body of the -court-yard. - -"_Morte al prele straniero!_" they shouted. "We will have no arrests!" - -The delegate made a sign to the officer in command of the grenadiers, -and immediately the three bugle-calls which the law ordains shall -precede any action on the part of troops against the public resounded -through the court-yard. - -Moved partly by rage and partly by fear, the peasants made another rush -towards the staircase. The delegate called upon the officer in command -to order his men to charge. The captain hesitated. - -"Signor Delegate," he said, "a little patience; it maybe that my men may -be saved from having to perform a disagreeable duty." - -Don Agostino went up to him. "You are right, Signor Capitano. For -God's sake, let us have patience! Let me see if I can make them hear -reason--ah!" - -"_Cristo!_" swore the officer, drawing in his breath sharply. - -A sudden silence had fallen on the mob, and those who were half-way up -the stone staircase paused and stood still. - -Then, Sor Stefano's voice rang out: - -"_Ecco la principessina! Evviva la nostra padrona!_" - -A great shout answered him. The doors at the top of the staircase had -opened, and in the centre of them stood Bianca Acorari. She remained -for a moment or two looking steadily down on the astonished crowd of -peasants and the double line of _granatieri_ drawn up at the back of the -court-yard. Then, raising her head proudly, she moved forward and -rested her hands on the stone balustrade. It was perhaps no wonder that -a silence had fallen on the crowd; that the captain of _granatieri_ had -sworn, and that one of his men had let his musket fall with a clatter to -the ground. The sudden appearance of a young girl, simply dressed in -white, with the light falling on her tawny gold hair, and her creamy -complexion flushed with a glow of excitement, her every movement full of -high-bred grace and dignity, among a mob of angry peasants, formed a -picture that certainly could not be seen every day. - -"They tell me that you want to see me--to speak with me. Well, I am -here to speak with you. I am Bianca Acorari." - -The low, clear voice could be heard all over the court-yard. There was -no tremor of fear, no trace of excitement, even, in its tones. For a -few moments soldiers and peasants gazed, as though spellbound, at the -girlish figure standing alone upon the steps against the background -formed by the columns and heavy mouldings of the portico. Then the -silence which succeeded her appearance was broken; and when she ceased -speaking, the peasants greeted her with an outburst of cheering, in -which--did discipline permit--the soldiers looked as though they would -willingly join. - -If the delegate representing the law had been perplexed before, he was -fairly bewildered now at the turn events had taken. The message -received that morning from the _sindaco_ of Montefiano had been urgent, -and the instant despatch of an armed force had been requested by that -official for the purpose both of maintaining public order and of -protecting the Princess Montefiano and Donna Bianca Acorari from -violence at the hands of their unruly tenants. - -The _delegato_, indeed, was about to demand an explanation from the -_avvocato_ Ricci, who had waited for the arrival of the troops before -venturing to show himself among the mob in his official capacity as -_syndic_, when the Abbe Roux, livid with rage and excitement, rushed -from the doorway down the steps to where Bianca was standing. - -"Signor Delegato," he cried, "once more I request that the castle be -cleared of these rioters. In the name of her excellency, the -princess--" A woman's voice interrupted him. - -"_Eccolo--Ecco l'Abate! Fuori gli stranieri!_" - -A cry of execration rose from the crowd, and in an instant its passions -were kindled afresh. A sudden rush was made for the staircase, but the -captain in command of the _granatieri_ had watched his opportunity, and -by a rapid movement his men had placed themselves between the mob and -its base. At the same time a detachment of the infantry left outside -the court-yard filed through the gateway and occupied the space in the -rear of the mob. - -The peasants, as Don Agostino had foreseen would probably be the case -were they to be surprised in the court-yard by the troops, were trapped; -and it was the discovery that they were so which redoubled their fury -against the foreign priest. Uttering a volley of curses and -blasphemies, a group of the younger men attempted to force their way to -the staircase. For the second time the bugle sounded the three warning -blasts. At that instant both Silvio and Don Agostino hurled themselves -against the foremost of the peasants who were struggling to break -through the ranks of the _granatieri_. They tried to force them back, -imploring them at the same time not to oblige the troops to use their -weapons. - -The delegate misunderstood the action of the two men whom he had a few -minutes previously told to consider themselves as under arrest, and a -further furious appeal from the Abbe Roux did not help him to keep his -head or his temper. He turned angrily to the officer in command, and -ordered him to give the word to his men to charge the crowd. - -"Yes--yes!" shouted the abbe. "Drive the _canaglia_ out of the -court-yard! Donna Bianca Acorari, Signor Delegate, has no business to -be here. She is a minor, and has no authority. She is being deceived -by certain adventurers who have incited the peasants to revolt. You, -Signor Capitano, give the order to charge, as the law requires you to -do." - -The delegate stamped his foot angrily. "In the name of the law, charge -the crowd!" he shouted to the soldiers. - -"No! I, Bianca Acorari, Principessina di Montefiano, forbid it! I will -not have the people--my people--touched." - -The Abbe Roux attempted to restrain her; but, breaking away from him, -Bianca rushed down the steps. The soldiers mechanically made way for -her to pass between their ranks; and erect, defiant, she stood between -the troops and the excited mob confronting them. - -The delegate, like the majority of the officials of Italian bureaucracy, -was extremely sensitive in any thing which touched his official dignity -or prerogative. - -"_Signorina_," he exclaimed, "you will have the goodness to retire. We -are not here to play a comedy. Signor Capitano, order your men to -dislodge the mob from the court-yard." - -Bianca turned to the officer, her eyes flashing with anger. - -"_Signore_," she said, "your men are not assassins, and you--you will -not give that order! The people have come to see me--to speak with me. -Who has any right, excepting myself, to turn them away? That -priest"--and she pointed with a scornful gesture to the Abbe Roux -standing on the steps above--"has lied!" - -The officer lowered the point of his sword. - -"Signor Delegato," he said, "I protest. My men shall not charge." - -"You are here to obey my orders," shouted the _delegato_, angrily. "I -shall report you to headquarters." - -"I undertake the responsibility of disobeying your orders," returned the -officer, coldly. "My men shall not move. Signorina," he added, "you -need not be afraid. As you say, we are not assassins." - -A murmur ran through the ranks of the _granatieri_. Every man's eyes -were fixed upon Bianca Acorari. - -At this moment Sor Beppe forced his way through the struggling crowd and -approached Bianca. - -"Excellenza," he said, quickly, "speak to the people. They will do what -you tell them--you will see." - -In the mean time, neither Silvio nor Don Agostino had seen Bianca's -descent into the court-yard, so occupied had they been in reasoning and -almost fighting with the leaders of that faction of the peasants which -was in favor of trying to force a passage through the cordon of troops -in front of the staircase. - -In a stentorian voice Fontana shouted out that the Principessina Bianca -wished to speak to the people, and Sor Stefano seconded his efforts to -obtain silence. Bianca moved slowly forward, until she was within a few -paces of her lover and Don Agostino. - -"_Evviva la nostra principessina_! Speak, speak!" shouted those nearest -to her. - -Bianca smiled. "I have little to say," she said, simply, "but I have -heard that things have been done in my name that are unjust things. You -have come here to tell my step-mother, the princess, this; is it not so? -Well, I shall tell her; and I, Bianca Acorari, promise you that there -shall be no increase in the rents, and that a faithful servant of Casa -Acorari, who has been dismissed because he would not consent to -injustice being done in my step-mother's and my name, shall be--no--is -recalled to his post," and she turned to Sor Beppe with a quiet smile. - -A dead silence greeted her words. The peasants forgot to cheer her. -They could only look at her, open-mouthed and wonder-struck. Don -Agostino started forward and gazed at her almost wildly for a moment. -Then, staggering back, and placing his hands to his head, he seemed as -though he would have fallen to the ground had it not been for Silvio, -who supported him in his arms. - -"Listen," Bianca continued, tranquilly, "for I do not wish you, the -people of Montefiano, to think what is not the truth. My step-mother is -not responsible for what has been done, any more than I am responsible. -She is good, and she would never have consented to anything which was -unjust. But she has been deceived--yes--deceived by that priest in whom -she trusted, who summoned the soldiers here, and who, as you have heard, -has called upon them to charge you with their bayonets." - -An outburst of hisses and groans followed her last words, and once more -the crowd made a movement as though to force its way to the staircase. -The soldiers closed up, lowering their muskets with fixed bayonets to -the charge. - -Silvio Rossano and Don Agostino, who by a supreme effort over himself -had regained his composure, sprang to Bianca's side. The color mounted -to her face as she looked at Silvio, and their eyes met. Then she -turned from him to the crowd that was swaying like the swell of the sea -before a coming storm. - -"No!" she called out, imperatively. "There must be no more violence. -You say that you will do what I ask you--that you trust me? Well, I ask -you to go quietly to your homes, secure in having my word that the -injustices committed by the Abate Roux will be removed." - -"She speaks well! _Evviva la Principessina Bianca!_" shouted the crowd. - -"Yes--long live the Principessina Bianca, and long live her betrothed -husband, Signor Silvio Rossano! _Evviva_! _Evviva_!" cried Sor Beppe. - -His words were taken up with an almost frenzied enthusiasm. It was -evident that the peasants had been waiting for some allusion to the -_principessina's_ own troubles, now that they had obtained their desire -and had heard from her lips that she disapproved of what had been done -in the princess's and her name. Concetta Fontana's reports had indeed -been cleverly circulated, with a view of securing to Bianca the sympathy -and support of the people. The women of the _paese_ had poured into the -ears of their husbands, brothers, and lovers such stories of the -_principessina's_ unhappiness at being forbidden to marry the man she -loved, and at the prospect of being sacrificed to the lust of an old man -and the dishonest schemes of the Abbe Roux, as had aroused local -indignation to the highest pitch. At the same time, Bianca's defence of -the princess and her decided refusal to allow her step-mother to be -blamed, had only coincided with the sentiments of the large majority of -her hearers. Public opinion in Montefiano had long ago exonerated the -princess from any other offence than that of being a foreigner who -allowed her own compatriots to interfere in the management of her -step-daughter's affairs. - -The sight of Silvio Rossano standing by their young _padrona_, who had -shown them that she could fearlessly take the part of her people against -injustice, was all that had been needed to evoke an unmistakable -demonstration that, whatever the princess and her advisers might do, the -Montefianesi approved of Bianca's choice. - -"_Evviva i fidanzati!_" rang from all parts of the court-yard, while -there were also not wanting premature shouts of "_Evviva gli sposi!_" - -Bianca blushed scarlet. She stood for a moment hesitating and -uncertain, almost unnerved by the acclamations of the crowd of peasants -whose threatening attitude a few minutes before had only served to -kindle her spirit and rouse her courage. Then, shyly, she turned to -Silvio. - -"Speak to them," she said, pushing him gently forward. - -Silvio was about to obey her, when a sudden movement among the soldiers -at the foot of the staircase arrested the attention of the crowd. At a -word from their officer, the ranks of the _granatieri_ parted, and -Princess Montefiano approached her step-daughter. Monsieur d'Antin was -by her side, and the Abbe Roux followed immediately behind them. - -Bianca rushed up to her step-mother. "Ah," she exclaimed, quickly, in a -low voice, "I am glad you have come! See, the people are quite quiet -now. There is no more danger. You must not blame me; I was told that -nothing would happen if I came and spoke to them, but that if I did not, -then they would be more angry than ever, and the troops would -charge--and then--" and she shuddered visibly. - -The princess looked at her, and apparently was unable to summon her -words for a moment or two. That she was not suffering from fear was -evident, for she gazed at the crowd of peasants almost indifferently. - -"You are angry," said Bianca. "I am sorry; but I did what I -thought--what I was told--was for the best. After all," she added, -"they are my father's people, and they wanted me. Surely it was better -to try to calm them than to allow a fight with the soldiers! Why should -you be angry if I have prevented that?" - -"Hush, Bianca, hush!" exclaimed Princess Montefiano. "I am not angry. -You did right. I would have come before, but Monsieur l'Abbe Roux -persuaded me not to show myself, and until five minutes ago I believed -you were in your own room. I have seen and heard everything during the -last few minutes from the gallery, but I do not quite understand. Now I -have come to learn the truth. Monsignor Lelli," she continued, raising -her voice so as to be heard by the crowd, which was now dumb from wonder -and curiosity, "you came to see me this afternoon, and I was advised not -to receive you. Will you now say what you would have said had I not -listened to that advice?" - -The Abbe Roux started forward, and was about to speak, but Princess -Montefiano waved him back. - -"No, monsieur," she said, with dignity, "the people shall hear you -afterwards. _Monsignore_," she added, again addressing Don Agostino, -"will you have the kindness to explain to me your reasons for wishing to -see me this afternoon?" - -Don Agostino bowed to her. "My object in asking you to see me, -principessa, was to communicate to you personally the requests which -would have been made by the deputation you declined to receive. I had, -it is true, another and even more pressing object. This was to interest -you to prevent the despatch of troops to Montefiano." - -The princess did not reply for a moment. Then she said, slowly and -emphatically: - -"The requests of the deputation which I was advised not to receive, -_monsignore_, have been answered by Donna Bianca Acorari. She has -promised that certain acts of injustice which have been committed in my -name and in hers shall be remedied, and I shall see that her promise is -duly carried into effect." - -A murmur of applause interrupted her. Monsieur d'Antin, standing a -little apart, watched his sister critically. - -"_Tiens!_" he said to himself, "Jeanne is a capable woman--more capable -than I imagined. She can rise to a situation. If she would only think -less of the next world and more of this, she would be more capable -still." - -"As to the despatch of troops to Montefiano," the princess added, "until -five minutes ago I was in ignorance that any such step had been taken. -The requisition for military intervention was made without consulting me -and without my authority." - -"_Evviva la principessina! Viva l'esercito!_" shouted the peasants. - -"_Signori_," Princess Montefiano continued, addressing the delegate and -the officer in command of the _granatieri_, "perhaps you will be so good -as to tell me at whose request you are here?" - -The delegate of public safety bustled forward, full of the consciousness -of his own importance and dignity. - -"I am here at the request of the _sindaco_ of Montefiano," he replied, -"to enforce order and respect for the law in this commune." - -The princess turned from him abruptly. - -"Signor Commandante," she said to the military officer, "I thank you for -your discretion in refusing to allow the people to be attacked at the -bidding of a civilian. My brother has told me of your declining to -order your men to charge the crowd. You may be sure that your conduct -will be represented in its proper light to the authorities. In the mean -time, perhaps you will tell me who summoned you to Montefiano?" - -The captain shrugged his shoulders. "Your _sindaco_, Signora -Principessa, telegraphed to the military authorities at Civitacastellana -for troops to be despatched at once. An official of the _pubblica -sicurezza_ accompanied me, according to the requirements of the law in -these circumstances, and the law places me at the Signor Delegate's -orders for the time being. Nevertheless, an officer is allowed to use a -certain discretion as to carrying out any orders that may in his opinion -be inopportune--and I merely exercised that discretion. I may add," he -continued, with a glance of admiration at Bianca, "that had it not been -for the timely arrival of Donna Bianca Acorari on the scene, and her -courage in facing the crowd at a very critical moment, I should probably -have been reluctantly compelled to order my men to clear the court-yard. -We soldiers do not like that kind of work, Signora Principessa; and both -I and my men are grateful to Donna Bianca for having spared us the -unpleasant duty of performing it." - -Princess Montefiano looked round her. - -"Where is the _sindaco_?" she asked. - -A movement took place in the rear of the crowd, and presently the -_avvocato_ Ricci advanced into the open space. - -"I understand, Signor Sindaco," the princess said, "that the troops are -here at your request. With the arrangements of the municipal -authorities regarding the town of Montefiano I have nothing to do. But -within the castle of Montefiano I am mistress. Why was I not informed -that troops had been sent for?" - -Monsieur d'Antin rubbed his hands together. "Jeanne is superb," he said -to himself, "absolutely superb!" - -The _sindaco_ looked petrified with astonishment. - -"But," he stammered, "it was after consultation with the Signor Abate -that I made the official application for troops to be sent. The abate -assured me that he was acting in your _eccellenza's_ name. He declared -it to be your wish that troops should at once be despatched to protect -the castle." - -"Monsieur l'Abbe," said the princess, quietly, "is this true?" - -"Madame," replied the Abbe Roux, sullenly, "I have already explained -that if I did not inform you of the fact that I had applied for military -protection against a possible assault on the castle by the peasants, it -was because I did not wish unduly to alarm you and the inmates of the -castle. I believed that I had full authority to act as I might think -best in this as in other matters." - -"You were mistaken, monsieur," the princess returned, coldly. "This -matter," she continued, "has been from the beginning misrepresented to -me. What proof have I that in other matters, also, I have not been -deceived?" - -"Your excellency has been deceived all down the line!" shouted a voice -from the crowd. "It is I, Stefano Mazza, who say it!" - -Princess Montefiano turned to Don Agostino. - -"Stefano Mazza?" she repeated, inquiringly. - -Sor Stefano came forward. - -"Your excellency, perhaps, is not aware that the Abate Roux is the -lessee of the rents of the property belonging to Casa Acorari at -Montefiano," he said. - -The princess started violently, and Monsieur d'Antin drew nearer to -where she was standing. - -"What does this mean?" she exclaimed. - -"It means, madame, that the man is a liar!" cried the abbe, hoarsely. - -Sor Stefano laughed. "If her excellency desires it," he said, "I will -this evening put positive proofs into her hands that it is as I say. -_Sicuro!_ the _affittuario_ of these lands is nominally one Signor -Oreste Francavalli; is it not so, _eccellenza_? But the Signor Oreste -Francavalli is a poor devil of a bankrupt _mercante di campagna_, who -has not a lira left in the world, as I know to my cost, and the real -holder of the rents is at this moment the Abate Roux. It is not -surprising, _eccellenza_, that the _abate_ should have wished to -increase his profits." - - - - - *XXXIII* - - -Princess Montefiano seemed to be almost stunned by Sor Stefano's -assertion. Once or twice she tried to speak, but appeared to be unable -to collect her words. - -The Abbe Roux turned furiously to Stefano Mazza. "It is a lie!" he -exclaimed. "You cannot prove your assertion. What have I to do with -this Oreste Francavalli?" - -Sor Stefano laughed scornfully. - -"_Mah!_" he returned. "It seems that you have a great deal to do with -him, Signor Abate. And I, too, have had a great deal to do with him, as -I shall be happy to prove to you from certain documents which I do not -carry about with me but which I can produce for her excellency's -inspection, should she care to see them. _Sicuro_! Francavalli is an -old acquaintance of mine--an old client, I may say. You are probably -unaware, Signor Abate, that I found myself reluctantly obliged to make -him a bankrupt. It was naturally, therefore, somewhat of a surprise to -me to learn that Signor Francavalli had become the new lessee of the -_latifondo_ of Montefiano. A man does not offer himself as -_affittuario_ of a large property unless he has some capital at his -back--or, if he does do so, his offer is not usually accepted by the -administration of that property. It was news to me--interesting -news--that Francavalli had capital; for he had certainly not discharged -all his liabilities to his creditors, of whom I am not the least -important. Do you understand, Signor Abate?" - -"It is untrue," the abbe repeated. "Francavalli has never been a -bankrupt." - -"Ah, no?" returned Stefano Mazza, dryly. "But I tell you that he is a -bankrupt--and I will tell you something more, Signor Abate. If -Francavalli were the real _affittuario_ of these lands, then he would be -a fraudulent bankrupt, for he would be in possession of capital and of -income which would belong to his creditors. But he is not the real -lessee of the lands belonging to Casa Acorari." - -"And who says that he is not so?" asked the abbe. - -Sor Stefano shrugged his shoulders. "He says so himself," he replied. -"Or, rather," he added, "I happen to possess a document signed by him, -declaring that he is merely the nominal lessee; that in consideration of -a sum of money advanced by you, Signor Abate, he allowed you to use his -name, but that the real lessee is yourself. Had it not been for -Francavalli's readiness to sign the said document, I should have been -compelled to proceed against him for fraud. _Sicuro!_ you have been -very cautious, Signor Abate, but not quite cautious enough. If you had -happened to consult me, I could have told you that in selecting the -Signor Oreste Francavalli as your confidant, you had made a bad choice;" -and Sor Stefano laughed dryly. - -For a moment the Abbe Roux remained silent. He was evidently unable to -refute Sor Stefano's words, spoken as they were with the calm conviction -of a man who knew that he was in a position to substantiate them. Then -he turned to Princess Montefiano. - -"Madame," he said, "it is true that, in a sense, I am the purchaser of -the right to take the rents of these lands; and also that, as I did not -wish to appear as the lessee, I arranged with Francavalli that the -affair should be carried out in his name. You are aware, madame, that a -larger annual sum is now paid by the lessee than has hitherto been the -case, and that the half-yearly payments of this sum have been punctually -made. This being so, I do not see that the fact of my being the real -lessee instead of Francavalli or another need concern anybody but -myself. You, Madame la Princesse, are better off in consequence of my -having taken over the lease; and when I told you that a friend of mine -was disposed to pay more for the lease of the rents than the lessee -whose tenure was just expiring, I only spoke the truth." - -Princess Montefiano hesitated, and then turned to her brother with a -distressed look on her face. "It is true," she said, in a low voice. -"Monsieur l'Abbe advised me not to give the late _affittuario_ a renewal -of his term, promising me that he would find a more satisfactory lessee. -As he says, we have been better off since the change, and I do not -see--" - -"_Eccellenza_," interrupted Sor Stefano, "there is more to say, and with -your permission, it had better be said now! The peasants are here not -only to obtain justice for themselves, but to support their _padrona_, -the Principessina Bianca--is it not so?" he added, turning towards the -crowd. - -"Yes--yes! Long live the Principessina Bianca!" resounded from all -parts of the court-yard. Princess Montefiano bit her lip. - -"What does he mean?" she asked, abruptly, of Don Agostino. - -"_Evviva la principessina! Evviva! Abbasso gli stranieri! Evviva il -fidanzato della principessina!_" - -The shouts were raised again and again, and among them were others, in -which Baron d'Antin was alluded to in terms neither delicate nor -complimentary. - -The princess flushed with anger. - -"_Monsignore_," she exclaimed, turning again to Don Agostino, "am I to -understand that you, the _parroco_ of Montefiano, encourage your people -to insult my brother and myself? I insist upon an explanation, but I -will not listen to it from peasants--" - -"_Signora principessa_," said Don Agostino, quietly, "you are quite -right. Explanations are necessary, but not here--not in the presence of -the crowd. Let the Signor Delegato here dismiss the troops, and at a -word from you and from Donna Bianca Acorari, the people will disperse -quietly. Afterwards," he added, "I shall be entirely at your service to -give what explanations I can of the attitude of the peasants." - -Princess Montefiano considered for a moment. "So be it, _monsignore_," -she said, at length; and then, turning to the delegate, she added: -"_Signore_, as I observed a few minutes ago, I have no right to -interfere with the arrangements of the authorities outside these walls; -but inside the castle of Montefiano I am mistress, and I beg of you to -order the troops to retire. We, I and my step-daughter, have no need of -their protection. We are among our own people." - -The officer hesitated and looked at Monsieur d'Antin, who had preserved -an imperturbable demeanor of good-humor even during the uncomplimentary -epithets cast at him by the crowd--epithets, indeed, that he had -scarcely understood so well as did the princess. - -"My sister is right, _signore_," Monsieur d'Antin observed, tranquilly. -"If there are explanations to be made, it is scarcely necessary that the -whole population of Montefiano, a company of grenadiers and a detachment -of infantry should assist at them. That gentleman," he continued, -indicating Sor Stefano, "appears to have considerable authority with the -peasants. No doubt he will persuade them to leave the castle quietly, -now that they have received assurances that their grievances will be -removed." - -Sor Stefano turned to the crowd. "Her excellency, the princess, has -requested the troops to retire," he said, in a loud voice. "Since she -and the _principessina_ are here at Montefiano they need no soldiers to -protect them. Therefore you will leave the castle quietly and go to -your own homes." - -"We will go if the _principessina_ and her _fidanzato_ tell us to go!" -shouted a voice from among the group of younger men. - -Princess Montefiano drew back suddenly, and her face flushed. For a -moment she seemed as if about to resent so obvious an affront to her -position and authority. - -Monsieur d'Antin advanced towards her. "Jeanne," he said, in a low -voice, "I think you would be wise to allow Bianca to complete her office -of peacemaker. The peasants evidently are ready to listen to her, and -to do what she tells them. Is it not so, _monsignore_?" he added, -turning to Don Agostino. - -Don Agostino glanced at him with some surprise, and the Abbe Roux's -countenance exhibited both astonishment and anger. - -"You are quite right, monsieur," Don Agostino replied. "The people will -listen to Donna Bianca, and in these cases it is generally prudent to -seize every opportunity of bringing matters to a peaceful solution. -Moreover," he continued, "if I may presume to say so, the fact of Madame -la Princesse putting Donna Bianca forward will have an excellent -effect." - -Princess Montefiano looked at him quickly. "You mean--" she began, and -then she paused, abruptly. - -"Madame," Don Agostino said, returning her look and making a slight -gesture of apology, "I mean that your encouraging Donna Bianca Acorari -to take her rightful position before the people of Montefiano will -remove many misunderstandings and stop much idle gossip." - -The princess gazed inquiringly at him for a moment, then she turned to -Bianca. "Speak to them, _figlia mia_," she said, quietly. - -Bianca shook her head. "No," she replied; "now that you are here, it is -for you to speak to them. I came because I knew--" - -"You knew what?" interrupted Princess Montefiano. - -"Oh, that Monsieur l'Abbe had told you nothing--that you did not even -know the soldiers had been sent for." - -"_La principessina_!" shouted the crowd, impatient with a colloquy in a -language it could not understand. "_Vogliamo sentire la -principessina_!" - -Princess Montefiano took her step-daughter by the hand and led her -forward. "Speak to them," she repeated, in Italian; and as she spoke, -she drew back, leaving Bianca standing in front of her. - -The words and the action accompanying them met with an immediate -response from the peasants. _"Evviva la principessa!_" they cried, and -then pressed forward until Bianca was almost surrounded. - -"Go," she said, in a quiet, clear voice--"go back to your homes, now you -know that neither my step-mother nor I will allow any injustice to be -done to our people. _Signori_," she added, addressing the delegate and -the officer in command of the _granatieri_, "you will order the troops -to retire, is it not true? You see well that we are in no danger here -at Montefiano." - -An outburst of approval drowned the remainder of her words, and with a -shrug of the shoulders the civil official turned to the officer in -command and bade him give the order to his men to leave the court-yard. - -The peasants fell back to allow the troops to pass through their midst, -and cheered the captain of the _granatieri_ as he marched through the -gateway at the head of his company. - -As the last of the soldiers disappeared under the archway, the majority -of the peasants prepared tranquilly to follow them. A certain number -lingered, however, talking eagerly among themselves, and presently -shouts of "_Evviva i fidanzati!_" were raised, succeeded by cries of -"_Evviva Rossano!_" - -Princess Montefiano turned hastily, and a look of astonishment and anger -crossed her face. - -"You see, madame," said the Abbe Roux, quickly, "the whole affair has -another scope than that which you have been made to believe to be the -case. There is the true ringleader of the peasants"--and he pointed -scornfully to Silvio Rossano, who was urging the remainder of the crowd -to leave the castle without making any further demonstration. - -The princess did not answer, but she looked intently at Silvio for a -moment. Then she turned to her brother. "Philippe," she said, coldly, -"you will have the goodness to inform Signor Rossano that his presence -here is unwelcome, and that he must leave the castle with--his friends!" - -Bianca started forward. "No," she exclaimed, abruptly; "if you send -that message, Monsieur d'Antin shall not be the bearer of it! It is an -insult, a--" - -Princess Montefiano waved her back indignantly. "Have you no shame?" -she said, rapidly, beneath her breath. - -Monsieur d'Antin smiled. "Bianca is right, Jeanne," he observed. "I -prefer not to be the bearer of your message. No doubt Monsieur l'Abbe -will undertake to deliver it," and then he laughed gently. - -Bianca looked at him for a moment in evident perplexity, and then -quickly averted her gaze. - -"Wait," she said to her step-mother, earnestly--"wait till you have -heard--till you know." - -Princess Montefiano gave a gesture of impatience. - -"I think you are all mad!" she exclaimed, angrily. "And in this, at -least, I will be obeyed. Philippe--" - -Don Agostino interrupted her. - -"Madame," he said, "let me entreat you not to insist. Donna Bianca is -right--it would be an insult. When you have heard all Donna Bianca has -to tell you--all that others have to tell you--you will understand -better, and perhaps you will form a different opinion. But this is not -the place for explanations. It is not necessary to discuss a scandal in -public." - -"How, _monsignore_, a scandal!" exclaimed Princess Montefiano, -indignantly. - -"I repeat it, madame--a scandal," returned Don Agostino, looking at the -Abbe Roux and Monsieur d'Antin steadily. "Donna Bianca Acorari and -yourself have been the victims of a dishonorable intrigue. Ah, I am not -afraid to use the expression, for I can prove my words." - -"But you may be mistaken, _monsignore_--you may be mistaken," observed -Monsieur d'Antin, airily, gently rubbing his hands as he spoke. - -"If I am so, monsieur, it is for you and the Abbe Roux to prove it," -returned Don Agostino, coldly. - -"Ah, as to that," Monsieur d'Antin said, composedly, "I can only speak -for myself. Monsieur l'Abbe Roux must make his own defence. I am not -responsible for his actions." - -The abbe's face grew livid. - -"What do you mean?" he exclaimed, hoarsely. "Do you mean to say that -your honor is less attacked than mine by this disgraced priest?" - -"Honor?" repeated Monsieur d'Antin; "honor, Monsieur l'Abbe? Oh, la, -la! Monsignor Lelli is right, Jeanne," he continued. "This is not the -place for explanations. I would suggest retiring in-doors." - -The princess looked from one to the other. "I do not understand," she -said, at length, "but if I am to hear of more deceptions--more abuses of -my trust and confidence--this is certainly not the moment to discuss -them. Come, Bianca! _Monsignore_," she continued, "you will doubtless -explain to me your words in the presence of Monsieur l'Abbe Roux and my -brother." - -Don Agostino bowed. "I desire nothing better, madame," he said, and -then he paused and glanced at Silvio. "I must ask that Signor Rossano -may also be present," he added, "since what I and others have to say -concerns him nearly, and it is only fair to him and to Donna Bianca that -he should hear it." - -The princess gave a gesture of dissent. - -"No," she replied, "Signor Rossano is a stranger. I cannot admit that -he is in any way concerned with my step-daughter's affairs or with my -own." - -Don Agostino hesitated for a moment. Then he said, quietly: "I cannot -press the subject, madame. It is possible, however, that you may change -your opinion." - -"When I do so, I will send for Signor Rossano," returned Princess -Montefiano, obdurately. "Come, Bianca," she repeated, "we will hear -what Monsignor Lelli has to say." - -The court-yard was by this time nearly empty. Fontana and Sor Stefano, -together with a few of the older and more prominent tenants, alone -remained. Princess Montefiano turned away, and, accompanied by Bianca, -who, now that she had played her part, seemed to be overcome by a -nervous shyness, slowly ascended the flight of steps leading up to the -portico of the _piano nobile_. Monsieur d'Antin and the Abbe Roux -followed them in silence, but Don Agostino lingered for a moment. - -Approaching Silvio, who was standing apart, he said to him, hurriedly: -"Do not go away, _figlio mio_, you may be wanted to plead your own -cause." - -And without waiting to offer any further explanations, he followed the -princess and the others into the castle. - - - - - *XXXIV* - - -Of those who accompanied Princess Montefiano into one of the -drawing-rooms on the _piano nobile_ of the castle, Monsieur d'Antin -certainly appeared to be the least embarrassed. Throughout the crisis -which had just been overcome he had preserved an imperturbable air of -composure, and almost, indeed, of indifference. The Abbe Roux glanced -at his confederate every now and then with an expression at once of -bewilderment and resentment on his countenance. Nevertheless, to judge -by his demeanor, Monsieur d'Antin appeared to be completely at his ease, -and even, in a quiet way, to be enjoying the situation in the -development of which he found himself called upon to assist. - -"If you have no objection, my dear Jeanne," he observed airily, to his -sister, "I will smoke. It calms the nerves." And, producing his case, -he proceeded to light a cigarette in a leisurely and deliberate manner. - -Monsieur d'Antin's action seemed to break the spell of embarrassment -that had fallen upon those around him. The princess, it was true, had -already shown herself to be no longer the weak, pliable individual that -even her brother had been accustomed to consider her. The suspicion, -now almost a conviction, that she had been deceived, that her authority -had been exploited and undermined by the person in whom she had placed -all her confidence and reliance, appeared to have had the effect of -arousing in Princess Montefiano that spirit of imperiousness which in -reality was inherent in her nature, as it has almost invariably been in -that of the deeply religious of both sexes and of all creeds--being, -after all, but a form of intellectual vanity wearing the garb of -holiness. To say the truth, Monsieur d'Antin had been not a little -surprised at the change in his sister's attitude. He had expected that -she would altogether decline to listen to any evidence that should tell -against the Abbe Roux. He had not quite understood that great as was -the glamour of the priesthood in his sister's eyes, her own authority -and power were yet greater, and that she would not readily condone any -action tending to infringe or diminish them. - -Moreover, Baron d'Antin had not fully realized how strong was Princess -Montefiano's sense of her duty towards her husband's child, or how -genuine was her desire fully to act up to that sense. He had always -regarded Jeanne's marriage as one of those desperate remedies which -single women of a certain age were apt to take as a palliative for evils -not invariably of a physical nature; and, being quite aware that his -sister had very little real affection for her step-daughter, he had -often wondered whether Bianca's existence must not be, as it were, -something of a thorn in the flesh. - -But if Monsieur d'Antin was surprised at his sister's change of -attitude, he was still more astonished at the blunder committed by the -Abbe Roux in basing his schemes to enrich himself at Bianca Acorari's -expense on so unsound a foundation. He had always taken it for granted -that the Abbe Roux was feathering his own nest, but he had never -troubled himself to ascertain the details of the process adopted by that -ecclesiastic, though he was convinced that in some way or another the -abbe had succeeded in making money out of his position in the Montefiano -household. Indeed, Monsieur l'Abbe had not attempted to deny that Donna -Bianca's marriage to a stranger would not at all suit the objects he had -in view. Monsieur d'Antin was perfectly aware that he was dealing with -a rogue--but he had at least given the abbe the credit of being a clever -rogue, though perhaps not quite as clever as himself. He certainly would -not have believed that the priest would have allowed himself to be -outwitted, as he evidently had been outwitted, by a bankrupt _mercante -di campagna_, to whom he had been presumably paying a commission for the -use of his name. This was a folly and an irretrievable blunder; and -Monsieur d'Antin, who was certainly not lacking in astuteness, on -hearing Stefano Mazza's confident assertions, had at once realized that -the game had reached the stage of _rien ne va plus_. If he were to -continue to maintain friendly relations with Jeanne--and it certainly -would not be to his advantage that these relations should cease--he must -walk warily. And the Abbe Roux? Well, the Abbe Roux must pay the -penalty usually inflicted upon the unsuccessful--he must be disowned. - -To be sure, he would have liked to possess Bianca; but, as Monsieur -d'Antin had told himself more than once lately, this was obviously -impossible of attainment. He was conscious of being no match for the -girl's quiet, determined will, and he dared not make any second attempt -to force his passion upon her. No, it would be better, more diplomatic, -to retire gracefully from the contest while there was yet time; and the -present moment surely afforded opportunity for a man of ready resource -to do so. - -In the mean while, Princess Montefiano had been the object of a keener -observation than that of Monsieur d'Antin. Don Agostino had noted every -expression of her countenance, every inflection of her voice, almost -every movement of her person since she had descended into the -court-yard. He had marked the succession of feelings called forth by -the discovery that she had been deceived where she had most trusted; he -had followed the struggle between her sense of justice, her wounded -pride, her disgust and mortification at finding that her confidence had -been abused by one whose sacred calling had been used as a means whereby -to exploit it. And Don Agostino, far from blaming her former weakness, -had sympathized with her in his heart, for he felt that he understood -all she was suffering, every phase of her trial. Perhaps it had been -some sense of this silent sympathy that had made Princess Montefiano -more than once turn to him as though intuitively seeking the aid of the -man she had so short a time before refused to receive. If Monsieur -d'Antin had found his sister's attitude when brought face to face with -her difficulties superb, as he had expressed it, Don Agostino had been -scarcely less struck by her courage and unexpected assumption of -dignity; and he was fully able to appreciate both the one and the other. -It was clear to him that there was nothing mean about Princess -Montefiano, and that, once persuaded that wrong had been done, she would -right it at whatever cost to her own feelings. Indeed, Don Agostino was -fain to admit that both the princess and Monsieur d'Antin showed _sang -de race_ in a difficult and embarrassing situation. Nevertheless, he -felt himself entirely unable to account for Monsieur d'Antin's apparent -composure and indifference, knowing, as he now did, of the pact existing -between him and the Abbe Roux, whereby Bianca Acorari was, if possible, -to be sacrificed. - -Don Agostino's reflections were disturbed by the princess addressing -him. - -"_Monsignore_," she said, quietly, "we can now discuss, in private, -matters which it was not fitting to discuss before my step-daughter. I -must ask you to explain the meaning of certain expressions you have used -regarding Donna Bianca Acorari. I do not wish you to be under any -misapprehension, so it will be perhaps as well that I should tell you -that my brother has had my full consent in wishing to make Donna Bianca -his wife. You appear to be aware that my step-daughter has allowed -herself to form another attachment in--in an entirely undesirable -quarter. I am her guardian, and without my consent she cannot marry -until she is twenty-one. This, _monsignore_, was a special clause to -her father's will." - -"Madame, I am under no misapprehension," returned Don Agostino. "It is -rather you who are so and I regret to be obliged to say what will give -you pain to hear." - -"Continue, _monsignore_," said Princess Montefiano, as he paused. - -"You ought to know, madame, that if you have been persuaded to sanction -a union between Baron d'Antin and your step-daughter, it is because such -a union would have enabled the Abbe Roux to continue for some years to -farm the rents of Donna Bianca's lands. Briefly, madame, you have been -tricked by the Abbe Roux, and, I regret to say, by your brother, who, in -return for the abbe's assistance in persuading you to allow such a -marriage, engaged not to interfere with his lease of the rents for a -certain period, before the expiration of which Donna Bianca would long -have attained her majority. The danger of her marrying an honest -gentleman of good family, who has been represented to you as an -adventurer and a nobody, has been perpetually put forward with the -object of gaining your consent to what your own sense of justice, of -propriety, madame, would otherwise have forbidden you to contemplate." - -Princess Montefiano started up from her chair. "_Monsignore!_" she -exclaimed; "do you know what you are saying? You forget that you are -accusing my brother of a villanous action! Philippe," she continued, -passionately, "tell Monsignor Lelli that he is mistaken--tell him that -he lies, if you like--but do not let me think that you, my brother, have -also deceived me--that you could lend yourself to such a horrible -intrigue--" - -"My dear Jeanne!" interrupted Monsieur d'Antin. "My dear Jeanne!" he -repeated, and then he laughed softly. - -"It is incredible--monstrous! I will not believe it!" Princess -Montefiano exclaimed, with increasing agitation. - -Monsieur d'Antin blew a ring of smoke into the air from his cigarette. -"Monsignor Lelli is mistaken, Jeanne," he observed, tranquilly; "one can -say as much to him without offence. But to say that he lies would not -be permissible. It would be--well, an exaggeration. Before replying to -his accusation, I should like to ask Monsignor Lelli on what grounds he -bases it. He does not, I presume, derive his information from Monsieur -l'Abbe Roux?" - -Don Agostino looked at him steadily. - -"I derive my information from those who have overheard conversations -between you and the Abbe Roux--conversations carried on, as you -believed, in private--in which your plans were very fully discussed. -Can you deny, monsieur, that the arrangement I have named exists between -you and the Abbe Roux?" - -Monsieur d'Antin shrugged his shoulders. "I have not the least -intention of denying it," he observed, calmly. - -"Philippe!" exclaimed the princess. - -The abbe started forward. "_Imbecile!_" he muttered, under his breath. - -"It is perfectly true," pursued Monsieur d'Antin, ignoring him. "I -entered into the compact with Monsieur l'Abbe, the nature of which -Monsignor Lelli has described fairly accurately. You see, my dear -Jeanne," he continued, "I have not your reverence for the clergy, and I -thought it possible--just possible--that Monsieur l'Abbe Roux was--well, -taking advantage of your belief in the apostolic succession. Is not -that the correct term? By degrees I became convinced of it. It amused -me to see how far Monsieur l'Abbe, with a little encouragement, would -go; and I--yes, I myself--proposed to him the arrangement which -Monsignor Lelli has just disclosed. It was eagerly jumped at, my little -proposal," and Monsieur d'Antin rubbed his hands together gently, with a -quiet chuckle. - -"It is a lie!" cried the abbe, furiously. "You confessed to me that you -were in love with Donna Bianca, and asked me to use my influence with -the princess to remove her objections to your becoming the husband of -her step-daughter." - -"And you gave me absolution," returned Monsieur d'Antin, dryly. "Ah, -yes, you certainly gave me absolution--but conditionally, Monsieur -l'Abbe, always conditionally, you know!" - -"But, Philippe," interrupted Princess Montefiano, "I do not understand. -You told me yourself that you loved Bianca--that you would only be happy -when she consented to be your wife." - -"Quite true, my dear Jeanne," Monsieur d'Antin replied. "What would you -have? I do not wear the _soutane_, so I have no protection against the -weaknesses of the flesh. Yes, your step-daughter is charming, -adorable--but her charms are not for me. She has made that very clear -to me. It is deplorable, but I have failed, and there is nothing left -for me but to retire in favor of a more fortunate rival. But my failure -has nothing to do with the point--nothing at all. If Monsieur l'Abbe -wants further explanations of my conduct in allowing him to believe that -in return for his assistance in my unlucky affair of the heart I should -not interfere with his affairs of the pocket, I am quite ready to give -them to him. But, monsieur," he added, as the Abbe Roux, white with -rage and mortification, attempted to interrupt him, "do not forget that -in giving me absolution when I made my little confession to you of my -passion for Donna Bianca, you stipulated for something in return. It is -always so, is it not? One is not supposed to come to _le bon Dieu_ -empty handed. You made it clear that without your support I could never -hope to gain my sister's consent to my object, and that you were only -disposed to accord this support on the condition of my not interfering -with your rights over the rents of the Montefiano lands. - -"Well, I agreed; but I agreed under that most convenient of all -compromises--a mental reservation. _A la guerre comme a la guerre, -n'est-ce pas_, Monsieur l'Abbe? Ha, ha, ha!" and Monsieur d'Antin -laughed good-humoredly. - -The Abbe Roux remained silent. Perhaps he was thinking that the -suspicions he had at times entertained as to whether it were not -Monsieur d'Antin who was manipulating him rather than he Monsieur -d'Antin, had turned out to be entirely justifiable. - -In the mean time, Don Agostino had been regarding Monsieur d'Antin with -a peculiar expression, which was certainly not that of a person -convinced of the truth of what he had just heard. - -"You wish me to understand, then," he said to him, dryly, "that you -merely pretended to fall in with the Abbe Roux's suggestions, in order -to ascertain how far your suspicions that he was abusing his position as -confidential adviser to Madame la Princesse were correct?" - -Monsieur d'Antin turned to him with admirable dignity. - -"Assuredly, _monsignore_," he replied. "Do you presume, then, to -suppose that I should lend myself to a conspiracy to deceive my own -sister, and to enrich an unworthy individual at her and Donna Bianca -Acorari's expense? No, monsieur! I may have my little weaknesses where -women are concerned, and I frankly admit that had Donna Bianca not -rejected my advances I should have considered myself a very happy man. -But where my honor is concerned, Monsieur le Cure, or the honor of my -family, I, Philippe d'Antin, have no weaknesses!" - -Don Agostino looked at him hard, and his finely moulded lips curved in -an ironical smile. - -"I make you my compliments, Monsieur le Baron," he said, quietly. "One -sees that you have done your best to protect yourself from possible -misconstructions being placed upon your actions." - -Monsieur d'Antin bowed and smiled benignly. - -"Precisely," he said, suavely. "You, _monsignore_, as a man of the -world, will understand--" - -"Everything," interposed Don Agostino, with a slight shrug of the -shoulders. - -At this moment Princess Montefiano, who had been listening attentively -to all that had passed, suddenly rose from her chair. - -"Monsieur l'Abbe," she said, coldly, "I have heard enough to convince me -that I need no longer trouble you for your advice or assistance in the -management of my affairs. - -"No, monsieur," she continued, as the abbe tried to speak, "excuses are -useless. My confidence has been abused; and you have presumed to -mislead me in the exercise of my authority over my step-daughter and her -affairs for motives of your own. You may return to Rome, monsieur, -since your services here are no longer required. You will have ample -time to drive to Attigliano and take the evening train." - -"Madame!" exclaimed the Abbe Roux. - -"Not a word, sir," returned the princess, imperiously. "I trusted you as -a friend and as a priest. You have proved yourself unworthy of that -trust, and it is enough. Until the last moment--until the troops were -within these walls--you have lied to me--yes, lied. And for what? In -order to make money; in order--" - -Princess Montefiano's voice failed her, and, suddenly overcome, she sat -down in her chair. The Abbe Roux advanced towards her. - -"Yes," he said, in accents trembling with anger and mortification--"yes, -I will go to Rome, and all Rome shall hear how Donna Bianca Acorari has -compromised herself, and how she has given herself to the first man who -crossed her path. You may turn me out of your house, madame, but you -cannot close my mouth. And you," he added, turning to Monsieur d'Antin, -"you are a liar and a coward!" - -Baron d'Antin shrugged his shoulders. "And you, Monsieur l'Abbe," he -replied, "are a priest; otherwise--" - -"Philippe," said the princess, in a hard, dry voice, "will you be so -kind as to ring the bell?" - -"Madame!" vociferated the abbe again. - -The princess took no notice of him, and the _maggior-domo_ answered the -summons with suspicious promptitude. - -"Giovanni," Princess Montefiano said, "a carriage will be wanted to take -the Signor Abate and his luggage to Attigliano in time for the evening -train to Rome. - -"Monsieur," continued the princess, "I will detain you no longer. You -have doubtless arrangements to make for your departure." - -For a moment the Abbe Roux seemed as though about to make an appeal to -her. Then, without uttering a word, he walked hastily across the -apartment and disappeared through the double doors leading into the -dining-room, beyond which the room he had occupied as his study was -situated. - -He had scarcely gone when Princess Montefiano turned to her brother and -Don Agostino. - -"He will ruin that poor girl's reputation!" she exclaimed, bitterly, -"and all Rome will say that I have neglected my duty towards her because -she is not my own child." - -"It will be very easy to prevent anything of the kind, princess," said -Don Agostino, quickly. - -The princess looked at him. "And how, _monsignore_?" she asked. - -"By allowing Donna Bianca to marry the man she loves," returned Don -Agostino, "the man who would make her an absolutely worthy husband." - -"The son of an infidel professor? Never, _monsignore_!" exclaimed -Princess Montefiano, emphatically. "Besides," she added, and then, -pausing abruptly, she glanced at Monsieur d'Antin. - -Don Agostino looked at him also, and as their eyes met Baron d'Antin -averted his own. He read an expression of warning in Don Agostino's -glance, a silent hint that, however successfully he might have deceived -his sister in his adroit repudiation of any genuine compact having -existed between the Abbe Roux and himself, he had not for an instant -deceived Monsignor Lelli. - -"Monsieur le Baron has already announced his readiness to accept Donna -Bianca's refusal to entertain his offer," Don Agostino observed. "Is it -not so?" he added, addressing Monsieur d'Antin. - -The latter nodded. "You surely would not wish me to force my love upon -Bianca?" he said to his sister. "You know, Jeanne, that she will have -none of it, and I--well, I must submit," and he sighed. - -"No, no, Philippe, of course I should not wish that," the princess -replied, hurriedly. "Indeed," she continued, "I am relieved. I never -approved of your proposal, and I would never have consented to it, had -not the Abbe Roux insisted that Bianca had hopelessly compromised -herself." - -"But how compromised herself, madame?" interrupted Don Agostino, almost -angrily. "Because your step-daughter has given her love to one who -loves and respects her, whom she, too, loves, and who is worthy of her -love, in what or how has she compromised herself? But these are fables, -princess, malicious insinuations, invented for the purpose of advancing -the schemes of that--that _imbroglione_ who has just left us. At least, -receive young Rossano, madame, and hear what he has to say for himself. -It is only justice--justice to him and to Donna Bianca. Why ruin the -happiness of two young lives because of caste prejudices, and especially -when the difference is one of rank only--for the Rossano are an old and -well-born family, lacking nothing but a title to make them the equals of -the Acorari." - -Princess Montefiano shook her head. - -"A man may take his wife from the _bourgeoisie_," she said, "and it does -not matter so much. But a woman loses caste by marrying beneath her. -But it is not the question of difference in position only," she -continued. "You, _monsignore_, cannot expect a stanch Catholic, such as -I am, to consent to my step-daughter's marriage to the son of a -notorious sceptic and freemason." - -"The Senator Rossano may be a sceptic," said Don Agostino, "but he is -certainly not a freemason, and he is certainly not antichristian." - -"Not a freemason?" repeated the princess. "But, _monsignore_, I have -been told that he is one of the most prominent of that abominable -organization. I have heard that he is a frequent attendant at those -blasphemous orgies in Rome in which sacrileges are committed that I dare -not name." - -Don Agostino smiled. "The Abbe Roux was no doubt your informant," he -observed. "I have known Professor Rossano for many years, and he is -most certainly not a freemason. The statement that he is so is as false -and fantastic as the legends concerning the orgies and sacrileges to -which you have just alluded. May I suggest, princess, that you would do -well not to take the assertions of the Abbe Roux too seriously?" - -Princess Montefiano colored. "It would indeed seem so," she replied, -bitterly. "Philippe," she added, suddenly, turning to her brother, -"what is your advice? Shall I do as Monsignor Lelli wishes, and receive -Signor Rossano?" - -Monsieur d'Antin glanced at Don Agostino. - -"Really, Jeanne," he replied, "you are putting my generosity to a severe -test, and I should prefer, under the circumstances, to offer no advice. -However, I will be generous; and since the young man is here--well, you -might take the opportunity of forming your own judgment as to his -suitability to become the husband of your step-daughter. At least, I -beg of you to spare me the ordeal of being present at your interview. -Really, the events of this afternoon have been sufficiently disturbing -to the nerves. With your permission, I will retire to my own room and -leave Monsignor Lelli to support you during your conversation with my -fortunate rival. But, before I leave you, there are one or two little -points that I should like to have explained to me, and no doubt -Monsignor Lelli can explain them. - -"In the first place," continued Monsieur d'Antin, "you, _monsignore_, -say that you derive your information from some person or persons who -overheard conversations between me and the Abbe Roux--conversations -which we believed to be held in private. I confess that I do not -understand how this could be the case; although I can perfectly -understand how any third person overhearing certain conversations I have -had with the abbe would very naturally conclude that I was his -confederate." - -"You may not understand," replied Don Agostino; "nevertheless, you were -overheard, and much of what passed between you and the Abbe Roux has -been repeated in Montefiano. It was owing to this fact, and to Stefano -Mazza's assurances that the abbe was in reality the _affittuario_ of the -rents, that the peasantry were so determined to see and speak with Donna -Bianca. The whole _paese_ knew, madame," he added to the princess, -"what you were in ignorance of. I was very certain that you were being -deceived, and it was this certainty which made me so anxious to see you -personally, before any disturbance should break out." - -Monsieur d'Antin was silent for a moment. He had never contemplated the -possibility of his conversations with the abbe becoming known. They had -been, as he was well aware, compromising enough, and he now felt more -convinced than ever that Monsignor Lelli had not been deceived by his -disavowal of any genuine intention to make himself a partner in the Abbe -Roux's schemes, nor by his declaration that he had only feigned to agree -with them in order to prove to himself the priest's unworthiness to -enjoy his sister's confidence. - -Monsieur d'Antin, however, was not wanting in assurance. Its possession -had on more than one occasion stood him in good Stead, and the present -situation was certainly one in which assurance and _aplomb_ were needed. -It did not greatly concern him what Monsignor Lelli might or might not -privately think of him. He had no intention, however, of forfeiting his -sister's good opinion, and her summary dismissal of the Abbe Roux had -shown him very plainly that Jeanne's character was not quite so weak as -he had supposed. - -"One must conclude that the walls of Montefiano have ears," he said at -length; "but since the eavesdroppers, whoever they may have been, placed -a wrong, though very natural, interpretation on what they overheard--at -least, so far as my part in the affair was concerned--it does not appear -to me greatly to matter." - -"Philippe," exclaimed the princess, "for a moment I wronged you. I -thought you, too, had deceived me. That would have been a hard thing to -bear, for--" - -"My dear Jeanne," interrupted Monsieur d'Antin, "do not think of it -again, I beg of you. I saw that you suspected me, but I assure you that -I made every allowance for you under the circumstances. Let us trust -that now you are relieved of the Abbe Roux's presence, there will be no -more misunderstandings. After all, Jeanne, a brother is more likely to -be disinterested than a stranger who is paid for his services; is it not -so?" - -Don Agostino looked from Baron d'Antin to the princess, but he said -nothing. Indeed, it was only by a slightly ironical smile that he -betrayed any sign of having listened to Monsieur d'Antin's remarks. - -Monsieur d'Antin did not continue the subject. He kissed his sister -affectionately, and then observed: "I leave you, my dear Jeanne. As I -said before, the last hour or so has been sufficiently trying to the -nerves, and in any case, I do not feel equal to assisting at your -interview with Monsieur Silvio Rossano. All the same, I am generous -enough to say that, in my opinion, you do quite right to receive him. -It may be that our friend the abbe has painted him in blacker colors -that he deserves, and perhaps your interview with him will remove other -misunderstandings. My only desire, Jeanne, is for Bianca's happiness," -and Monsieur d'Antin placed his hand on his heart and sighed. - -"_Au revoir_, monsieur," he continued, bowing to Don Agostino; "_a -bientot_, I hope," and then, humming a little tune to himself, he left -the room. - -"My brother has certainly a generous nature," remarked Princess -Montefiano. Don Agostino did not consider himself called upon to reply -to her observation. - -"You have known this young Rossano for some time, _monsignore_, is it -not so?" she asked, presently. - -"For some time--yes," Don Agostino replied; "not for long, certainly," -he added, "but I know enough of him from his father, who, as I told you, -madame, is an old friend of mine, to make me confident that he would -make any woman a good husband." - -"The Professor Rossano is not an individual of whom I could approve," -the princess said, dryly. "Such men do much to create unhappiness in -family life by their teaching. You must pardon me if I say that I should -not accept his opinion concerning a young man's character." - -"Because you do not know him, princess," returned Don Agostino, bluntly. -"If I had not full confidence both in Professor Rossano and in his son," -he added, "I should certainly not sympathize with the latter in his -desire to marry Donna Bianca Acorari. The responsibility would have -been too great, and--" He hesitated for a moment, and then was silent. - -Princess Montefiano glanced at him with some curiosity. "My -responsibility is great," she said, "for my step-daughter is certainly -not like other girls. She has a peculiar disposition--inherited, I -fear, from her mother--my poor husband's first wife. I do not wish to -speak ill of the dead, _monsignore_, but--" - -"No," exclaimed Don Agostino, abruptly, "no, madame! Let the dead rest -in peace." - -Princess Montefiano made the sign of the cross. "Of course," she said, -gravely. "But I have a duty towards the living, and I cannot forget -that my step-daughter's mother was--well, not all she should have been -as a wife. Oh, I do not mean to imply that, after her marriage, she was -guilty of any misconduct," she continued, hurriedly, "but she did not -make her husband happy--it was a wretched marriage. At any rate, -_monsignore_, I am not injuring her memory by saying that she never -loved my poor husband. She had formed an unfortunate attachment, before -her marriage, for somebody who was not, I believe, quite her equal, and -this seems to have ruined her whole life. You cannot wonder if I am -determined to prevent her daughter from falling into the same unhappy -circumstances. Indeed, I have sometimes felt an almost superstitious -alarm lest the mother's story were destined to be repeated in her -daughter's life. It is certainly strange that Bianca also should have -formed this violent attachment for a young man who, however worthy he -may be individually, is not of her own order." - -Don Agostino did not answer immediately. He leaned his arm upon a table -beside him, and his face was partially concealed by his hand. - -Presently he raised his head and looked earnestly at Princess -Montefiano. - -"Madame," he said, in a low voice, "you bear the name and have succeeded -to the place of her who is no longer here to speak in her own behalf. -Do not, I beg of you, misjudge her." - -The princess started. "_Monsignore!_" she exclaimed. "What do you know -of my husband's first wife? You speak as though her story were known to -you. But I forgot. No doubt, during the years you were in Rome you -heard stories concerning the disagreements between her and the prince; -for I believe there was much gossip at one time." - -"I knew her story well, princess," replied Don Agostino, quietly. -"Perhaps I ought to tell you that very few people knew it better." - -"You knew her?" the princess asked, with surprise. - -"Yes--I knew her." - -Princess Montefiano hesitated for a moment. - -"Ah!" she said, at length. "You were, perhaps, in her confidence, -_monsignore_--in your priestly capacity, I mean. If that is the case, of -course we will not discuss the subject any more. You must forgive me, -but I was quite unaware that you even knew her history, and still less -that you had been personally acquainted with her. Naturally, under the -circumstances, you would not wish to hear her conduct discussed, -especially by me. Believe me, it is only my desire to do my duty by the -child she left which makes me dread taking any action which might lead -to that child following in her mother's footsteps." - -"I was in her confidence--yes," said Don Agostino, after a pause, "but -not in the sense you mean, princess--not as a priest. I knew her--ah, -many years ago--and you are right: I cannot discuss the subject. At the -same time, will you permit me to ask you a question?" - -Princess Montefiano bent her head without speaking. - -"Are you sure," proceeded Don Agostino, "that in your determination to -oppose Donna Bianca's love for Silvio Rossano you are not running the -grave risk of bringing about the very state of things you wish to avoid? -Ah, madame," he continued, earnestly, "I must ask for your patience--for -your pardon--if I seem to interfere in matters which you might justly -tell me can be no concern of mine. You fear lest your step-daughter may -have inherited her mother's nature. Well, I believe your fears to be -justified. Her mother loved once, and once only, during her lifetime, -and, strangely enough, under circumstances almost identical with those -accompanying Donna Bianca's attachment. She was forced to marry a man -she did not love, in order to satisfy the prejudices and the ambition of -her family. What was the result, madame? Disaster--unhappiness. What -will be the result of pursuing the same course with the daughter as that -pursued with the mother--in the case of two natures so similar? - -"And whom will you bring forward in the place of young Rossano? Some -Roman with a title borrowed from his father, but with nothing else; some -young spendthrift who, like many we could name, has paid his court to -every rich American, to every wealthy foreign girl, Christian or Jewess, -in the hope of buying her fortune with his name--and who will use his -wife's money to pay off his creditors and to support a mistress. We -need not--we who know Rome--seek far in order to find such examples, -princess. You talk of responsibility. Do you venture to contemplate -what responsibility for such a course would mean?" - -He spoke earnestly, gravely, with a note of warning in his voice which -silenced the objections already rising to Princess Montefiano's lips. -The princess did not know very much of the under-currents of life, but -she was sufficiently well acquainted with the world to be aware that -Monsignor Lelli had not exaggerated his presentment of them. Perhaps, -too, she contrasted in her own mind his simple, straightforward -statements with the more flowery moral speeches she had been accustomed -to hear from the Abbe Roux. - -"I want my step-daughter to marry happily," she repeated; "and--yes, I -will see this young man, _monsignore_. But I will not give my consent to -my step-daughter marrying him until I have satisfied myself that he is -worthy to be her husband. The fact of the Rossanos not being noble, is, -after all, not an insuperable difficulty--one hears of cases every day -in which traditions of class are departed from--" - -"It is a mere question of money," interrupted Don Agostino. "And money, -to make a very banal remark, does not always bring happiness; whereas -love-- Princess," he added, abruptly, "I feel sure that you will not -repent your action in receiving this young Rossano. I will bring him to -you; and then, if you will permit me, I will leave you to speak with him -alone. Afterwards, if you wish to see me, I shall be entirely at your -service." - -"Certainly, _monsignore_!" exclaimed Princess Montefiano, hurriedly. -"There is much that I wish to learn - - - - - *XXXV* - - -Don Agostino was amused to find Silvio engaged in earnest conversation -with Concetta Fontana outside the court-yard of the castle. The open -space beyond the gateway, lately the scene of so much confusion, was now -entirely deserted; for the peasants had retired into the _paese_, where -all the Montefianesi--men, women, and children--were busy discussing the -events of the last few hours at the tops of their voices. - -It was evident that Silvio was making the best of his opportunities to -learn from Concetta all that she might be able to tell him concerning -Bianca, and also as to how she had acquired her information concerning -the understanding between the Abbe Roux and Monsieur d'Antin. It was -evident, also, that Concetta was readily imparting all the information -she had to give on the subject, for the pair were so engrossed in their -conversation that they were unaware of Don Agostino's approach. - -"The princess wishes to see you," Don Agostino said to Silvio. "I have -come to take you to her." - -Concetta clapped her hands. - -"Vittoria!" she exclaimed. "What have I been telling the _signorino_? -That once her excellency's eyes were opened, there would be no more -difficulties." - -Don Agostino smiled. He thought to himself that if her excellency were -to look at Silvio through Concetta's eyes, difficulties would in all -probability quickly be smoothed away. But the question yet remained to -be proved whether she would do so. - -"Come, Silvio," he said, briefly, "you will find the princess alone." - -"And Monsieur d'Antin?" asked Silvio. - -Don Agostino took his arm and turned into the court-yard. "Monsieur -d'Antin?" he repeated. "Ah, Monsieur d'Antin's nerves are upset; he has -gone to his room. For the rest, he will not interfere with you. No, -indeed; he will probably give you his blessing! Do you know, Silvio, -that I cannot make up my mind as to which is the greater scoundrel of -the two, Monsieur le Abbe or Monsieur le Baron. But there can be no -question as to which has the better head--oh, none at all! The Abbe -Roux put all his eggs in one basket; but Monsieur d'Antin divided his -with admirable judgment. All the same, with it all, Monsieur d'Antin is -a gentleman in his villanies, and a man of courage. The abbe is neither -the one nor the other. Moreover, Monsieur d'Antin has a decided sense of -humor; and humor, like charity, covers many sins. No, you need not fear -Monsieur d'Antin. And now, Silvio, before we go to the princess, tell -me what you have heard from Fontana's daughter. Everything, I suppose?" - -"_Sicuro!_ everything. She repeated to me the conversation between the -abbe and Monsieur d'Antin she had overheard while standing in the secret -passage, and also some of those between the abbe and the princess--so -far as she was able to follow those last." - -Don Agostino nodded. "It is as well that you should know of them," he -said. "But, Silvio," he added, "do not say anything to the princess -further to shake her confidence in what she believes to be her brother's -generosity. She must suffer enough, poor woman, from the discovery of -the abbe's treachery, and it would be cruel to give her another -disillusion. You and Donna Bianca can afford to pretend that you both -realize Monsieur d'Antin's disinterested conduct." - -Silvio laughed. "I could, perhaps," he replied, "but Bianca--Concetta -Fontana says that Bianca has declared she will never speak to him again; -and when Bianca has made up her mind to do a thing--" - -"She will do it," concluded Don Agostino. "One sees that very plainly," -and then he paused and sighed. "Silvio," he said, suddenly, "there is -one other thing I wish to say to you. It may be that the princess will -ask you how it has come about that I have pleaded your cause with her. -If she does so, tell her that I have pleaded it in the name of her whose -name she bears. She will know what I mean. And show her this--as my -credentials," and, drawing the little case containing the miniature of -Bianca Acorari's mother from beneath his _soutane_, he placed it in -Silvio's hand. - -"You will bring it back to me," he said. "Yes, I took it with me -to-day, thinking that if anything happened--if the soldiers had fired on -the people--it would have been with me at the last--for they would have -had to fire through me. There would have been a scandal afterwards, I -suppose," he added, "when the portrait was found upon me; but by that -time I should have been nearer to her--far away from the judgments of -men. Come, Silvio _mio_," he continued, with a smile. "It is your -passport, I hope--and it is not I only who give it to you, but one who -has a better right than I to do so, and whose envoy I am." - -Silvio took the case, and as he did so he kissed Don Agostino's hand. - -"If somebody had done by you as you have done by me!" he burst out, -passionately. - -Don Agostino smiled. "_Ragazzo mio_," he interrupted, "the whole of -life is an 'if.' Come." And mounting the steps together, they entered -the vestibule of the _piano nobile_, where the _maggior-domo_ advanced -towards them, saying that he had orders to conduct them to the -princess's private sitting-room. - -Princess Montefiano, as Don Agostino had told Silvio she would be, was -alone. She received Silvio with a distant courtesy, which, -nevertheless, was not unkindly, as he was presented to her. - -"My friend, Silvio Rossano, will tell you his own story, _principessa_," -Don Agostino observed. "With your permission I will wait for him in the -drawing-room, for he will return with me to my house," and he left them -together. The princess did not speak for a few moments. She appeared to -be thinking deeply, and every now and then Silvio felt that her eyes -were fixed upon him, while, as he met her glance, he saw an inquiring -and almost surprised expression in them. A more embarrassing situation -it would certainly have been hard to conceive; but Silvio, who was -accustomed to being interviewed by all sorts and conditions of people, -comforted himself with the reflection that if he were ill at ease, -Princess Montefiano could scarcely be less so. At length the princess -broke the silence. - -"Signor Rossano," she said, "we need not waste words in coming to our -point. I have consented to receive you because--you must pardon me if I -speak plainly you have placed my step-daughter, Donna Bianca Acorari, in -an intolerable position for a young girl--a position which exposes her -to the mercy of any malicious gossip who may choose to make free with -her name." - -Silvio started to his feet from the chair to which Princess Montefiano -had motioned him. - -"Signora Principessa," he exclaimed, "you forget that your consent was -asked in the usual way." - -"No, I do not forget," interrupted the princess. "It was asked after -you had spoken to my step-daughter spoken to her alone--a thing unheard -of, _signore_." - -Silvio was silent for a moment. The princess was certainly right, and -he could not deny it. - -"Had I not spoken to Donna Bianca," he said, presently, "I could never -have been certain that she returned my love. From the instant that I -knew she did so, I never attempted to see her again until my father had -made a formal offer on my behalf." - -"Which offer was declined by me," returned the princess. - -"By you, Signora Principessa, yes--" - -"And should not that have been sufficient?" - -In spite of himself, Silvio's eyes twinkled. "Well, no!" he replied. -"It was sufficient neither for Donna Bianca nor for me." - -"Signor Rossano!" exclaimed the princess, in amazement. - -"Neither for Donna Bianca nor for me," repeated Silvio, tranquilly; -"because, princess, we love each other, and we mean to marry--oh, not -this year, or next year, perhaps--but when Donna Bianca is of an age to -do as she chooses. Until that time arrives we are quite content to wait, -if necessary. It will make no difference in the end." - -Princess Montefiano tapped her foot impatiently on the floor. Bianca -had said the very same words to her more than once. - -"But surely," she began, "you must see for yourself the drawbacks--the -difficulties! It is a delicate subject, and I do not wish to offend -you, Signor Rossano, but--" - -"But I am not noble? I understand that," interrupted Silvio. "It is -doubtless a drawback in your eyes," he continued, quickly; "but as to -difficulties, I have never been afraid of those. One can always -surmount them. And I am not here to make excuses for not having a -title," he added, a little haughtily. "We Rossanos have no need to be -ashamed of our blood; and, if it comes to that, my mother was of a noble -family. I have no need of Donna Bianca's money. My father is not a -poor man, and I can earn money if I choose." - -"Ah, your mother was noble?" asked Princess Montefiano. "I did not know -that--" - -"Oh, not of the _alta nobilta_," said Silvio, "but of a noble family of -the Romagna, of older descent than most of the Roman houses. But, -Signora Principessa, as you said a few minutes ago, we need not waste -words in discussion. Donna Bianca Acorari has done me the honor to say -that she will marry me, and I am content to wait until she is in a -position to do so. I thank you for having received me, if only because -you have given me the opportunity of saying to you that under no -circumstances will I seek to make Donna Bianca act against your consent -and authority. We both recognize that authority, princess, and while it -exists I shall certainly not be the one to dispute it. I should not, it -is true, have promised as much twelve hours ago." - -Princess Montefiano looked at him quickly, and there was an expression -of approval in her glance. Had Silvio Rossano known it, he could not -have uttered words more likely to ingratiate himself with her than those -in which he expressed his recognition of her authority. - -"And why not?" she asked. - -Silvio hesitated. "Because I knew that Donna Bianca was the object of -an intrigue--that an arrangement had been made whereby she was to marry -a man much older than herself whom she could not love--" - -"You allude to my brother, _signore_," the princess said, hastily. "But -there was no intrigue on his part. He has behaved throughout this -painful affair with a marvellous generosity and unselfishness. I must -be frank with you, Signor Rossano, and tell you that my brother's -primary object was to save Donna Bianca from the possible consequences -of the false position in which your thoughtlessness--for I do you the -justice, now that I have seen you and spoken with you, to believe it was -nothing more had placed her." - -Silvio bowed. "The fact remains," he said, "that Donna Bianca rejected -Baron d'Antin's offer, knowing that she was already engaged to me. It -is not a matter which I need discuss--the more so, as Don Agostino -informs me that the baron has declared his determination to withdraw his -suit. It is sufficient for me, Signora Principessa, to know that you no -longer regard me as an adventurer, as a man whose birth and character do -not permit of his aspiring to be the husband of Donna Bianca Acorari. -For the rest, there is no more to be said. Time will prove that I do -not seek Donna Bianca because she is heiress to lands and titles, but -because I love her, and I know that she loves me. Signora Principessa, -I have the honor to salute you, and with your permission I will rejoin -Don Agostino." - -"Wait, _signore_!" exclaimed the princess, suddenly, as, with a low bow, -Silvio moved towards the door. "There are certain things I wish to ask -you." - -"Ask me anything," Silvio replied. "I am entirely at your service." - -"What brings you here--to Montefiano--at this moment?" she continued, -looking at him keenly. "It has been said that this disturbance of the -peasantry has been largely fomented by you, for obvious reasons--that -you wished to enlist public sympathy on your behalf." - -"It has been said so, yes," returned Silvio, "by the Abbe Roux. But the -Abbe Roux has said many things which will not bear investigation." - -The princess winced. "But why are you here--at such a time?" she -insisted. - -"Because I knew from Donna Bianca that there were threatenings of a -rising on the part of the peasants, and yesterday evening I read in a -newspaper in Rome that troops had been asked for, to proceed to -Montefiano. When I saw that, I determined to come by the first -available train, lest there should be danger to her." - -"You heard from my step-daughter!" repeated the princess in amazement. -"But she knew nothing. Besides, how could she communicate with you, or -you with her? There is some fresh mystery here, some new deception that -I do not yet understand. Will you be so good as to explain yourself, -_signore_?" - -"Donna Bianca knew everything," said Silvio, "except that the troops had -been summoned. This she did not know. When the mob burst into the -court-yard of the castle, your _fattore's_ daughter went to Donna -Bianca's room by the secret passage, in order to implore her to come out -and speak to the people--" - -The princess stared at him. "By the secret passage!" she repeated. -"Signor Rossano, what fables are these?" - -"Ah--you do not know--they have not explained to you yet?" asked Silvio, -quickly. "_Sicuro_--by the secret passage which leads into Donna -Bianca's room--where the portrait of the cardinal is--" - -"Maria Santissima!" ejaculated the princess. "How do you know," she -continued, angrily, "that there is such a portrait in my step-daughter's -room? It is an outrage--" - -"I know it because Donna Bianca has described it to me," returned -Silvio, who did not at the moment understand what it might be that had -so suddenly aroused the princess's indignation. "The picture moves into -the wall, and behind it is the secret entrance. Concetta Fontana, when -she went to warn Donna Bianca that the peasants were forcing their way -into the castle, found her locked in her room--" - -"_Sciocchezze!_" exclaimed Princess Montefiano. "Why should she be -locked in her room?" - -"For a very simple reason. The Abbe Roux did not want Donna Bianca to -know what was going on. She had retired to her room after breakfast, -and when the disturbances began, he turned the key of the door opening -into your apartment." - -"It is true," said the princess, as if to herself. "The child -complained of a headache, and had gone to her room. I thought she was -there, until, to my astonishment, I heard that she was speaking to the -peasants." - -"Concetta Fontana took her down the concealed passage," said Silvio, -"and it is fortunate she did so, princess, or there would certainly have -been bloodshed at Montefiano to-day." - -"Holy Virgin! how many more things am I to hear?" exclaimed Princess -Montefiano. "As to this mysterious passage," she continued, "why have I -never been told of its existence? Even now I will not believe it until -I see it. Concetta Fontana must be romancing. At any rate, I will -investigate the matter for myself. And so it was by means of this -unknown passage that you communicated--by letter, of course--with my -step-daughter?" - -"Yes," replied Silvio, simply. "I sent a letter to Don Agostino, -begging him to get it conveyed to Donna Bianca if he possibly could do -so. The agent--Fontana--told him of the passage, and how Donna Bianca's -room could be entered at any time by a person knowing the secret -communication. Concetta delivered the letter, and another subsequent -one, and took Donna Bianca's replies to Don Agostino. He posted them to -me. You see, Signora Principessa," added Silvio, "that I have answered -your questions frankly. And you will not blame Concetta, for she only -did as she was told." - -Princess Montefiano looked at him with something like a smile on her -face. Possibly the straightforward manner in which Silvio had spoken to -her throughout their conversation had impressed her more favorably than -she was fully aware of. - -"I do not understand why Monsignor Lelli--Don Agostino, as you call -him--should have taken upon himself to help you so untiringly," she -observed, presently. "In your case I conclude his friendship with your -father to have been the motive. But he seems to be equally concerned -for my step-daughter's happiness. To be sure he tells me that he knew -her mother, many years ago. He seemed to be under a strange emotion -when he spoke of her, and hinted at some kind of responsibility he felt -towards my step-daughter." - -"Monsignor Lelli considers that he has a certain responsibility towards -Donna Bianca," said Silvio; and then he paused. - -"But why, _signore_--why? It is inexplicable. Am I to understand that -this strange idea forms one of his reasons for so obviously supporting -your suit?" - -Silvio looked at her quickly. "It is not inexplicable," he replied, -quietly. "It is an idea--a sentiment, perhaps--or perhaps it is more -than that. If one does not believe that the dead are conscious beings, -princess, what is the use of praying for them? And, if they are -conscious beings, why may they not exercise an influence over those who -are dear to them, and whom they have left behind?" - -Princess Montefiano regarded him with surprise--but at the same time -with evident approval. She had certainly not expected to hear any such -arguments from the lips of a son of Professor Rossano. - -"Signor Rossano," she exclaimed, "I thought that you believed in -nothing--I mean, that you were an atheist." - -Silvio laughed. "Why, princess?" he asked. - -"Why? Oh, because--well, because you are your father's son." - -"My father is not an atheist," returned Silvio, simply. "He knows too -much--or not enough--to be one." - -The princess stared at him. Perhaps she scarcely understood the full -significance of his answer; but all the same his words, coupled with his -preceding remark, gave her a sense both of satisfaction and of relief. - -"I am glad," she said, somewhat irrelevantly, "very glad. But as -regards Monsieur Lelli, and this strange idea of responsibility towards -the daughter of one whom he knew many years ago--how can you explain -that? I feel sure that Monsignor Lelli is a good man, though I have -heard him much abused. But I have also heard people say that he has -been very hardly treated; and possibly his long exile here at Montefiano -may have made him somewhat morbid." - -"Signora Principessa," said Silvio, approaching the armchair in which -she was sitting, "Don Agostino has authorized me to answer your -question, in the event of your asking it. Had it not been for this -authorization, I must have kept silence. It may be that his idea is a -morbid idea; or it may be that, as he is firmly convinced, he is being -guided by another intelligence than his own. Of that, princess, you -must be the judge," and taking the case Don Agostino had confided to him -from his pocket, he gave it into her hands. - -Princess Montefiano opened it, and then she suddenly turned very pale. - -"It is Bianca!" she exclaimed. "It is Bianca herself! Signor Rossano," -she added, "what does this mean?" - -"No," returned Silvio, in a low voice, "it is not Bianca." - -Princess Montefiano did not notice his unconscious departure from the -formalities. She bent over the miniature and examined it attentively. -"No," she said, after a pause, "it is not Bianca--the face has not her -character in its expression. It is a weaker face. It is strange," she -continued, as though speaking to herself, "but I have never seen any -portrait of my husband's first wife; there is none at Palazzo -Acorari--and, of course, this is she. But how did the miniature come -into Monsignor Lelli's possession?" she added. - -"Can you not guess, princess?" asked Silvio, gravely. - -Princess Montefiano looked at him. "You mean--" she began, and then she -paused. - -Silvio nodded. "Yes," he said. - -The princess remained silent. She appeared to be deeply moved, for her -hands trembled as, after another intent look at the portrait, she closed -the case and returned it to Silvio. - -He took it from her almost reverently. "Don Agostino told me to say to -you that you were to regard the miniature as his credentials; and," he -added, "as he hoped, my passport." - -"Your passport?" repeated Princess Montefiano. - -"Yes. If he had not known me to be worthy of Bianca--to be one who -would make her a good husband--he would not have delivered it to me," -continued Silvio, quickly. "Listen, princess," and he rapidly told her -all that had passed between him and Don Agostino from the day when he -had first come to Montefiano and had been received into the _parroco's_ -house. He told her how Don Agostino had shown him the miniature on that -occasion; and how the priest had from the first been convinced that he -was only obeying some unseen but powerful influence in giving him his -friendship and support. - -Princess Montefiano listened to him without uttering a word; but she -never took her eyes off his countenance as he spoke. - -As he ceased, she rose from her chair and held out her hand. "Thank -you, Signor Rossano," she said, gravely, but very courteously--"thank -you. You have been very frank with me, and I appreciate your -confidence. You stay with Monsignor Lelli to-night, is it not so? -Well, you and he will, I hope, give me the pleasure of seeing you here -at breakfast at twelve to-morrow. You will find me alone--me and -Bianca--for my brother will most probably be returning to Rome in the -morning." - -Silvio bent over her hand and kissed it. "I will come with great -pleasure, princess," he said, "and I think I can answer for Don Agostino -that he also will do so." - -A happy light shone in his eyes as he spoke. The princess looked at him -again and smiled slightly. - -"I must think," she said, slowly. "Monsignor Lelli has fulfilled his -responsibilities, and you must both allow me to fulfil mine. To-morrow -we can talk of many things, and in a few days, Signor Rossano, I promise -you that I will give you an answer to a question which I know you are -longing to ask me." - -With a slight inclination of her head, Princess Montefiano turned -towards the bell and rang it. A moment or two afterwards the -_maggior-domo_, who had been waiting in the adjoining room, opened the -double doors and conducted Silvio to the apartment where Don Agostino -was awaiting him. - - - - - *XXXVI* - - -A year had passed; and on the anniversary of the day that had witnessed -the forcible entry of the peasants into the court-yard of the castle at -Montefiano, a still larger and scarcely less noisy crowd was assembled -on the same spot. Now, however, instead of angry discussions and -threatening cries, laughter and jests resounded in the still air of a -mellow September morning. The entire population of Montefiano was -gathered together inside or around the castle walls, and the peasants -and farmers had come into the _paese_ from many an outlying village and -hamlet in the Sabina to assist at the wedding of the young Princess of -Montefiano. - -The year that had passed had been a year of probation. True to her word, -the _principessa madre_, as she was now termed by the retainers and -dependants of Casa Acorari, had given Silvio her answer to his unasked -question some ten days or so after he had shown her Don Agostino's -so-called credentials. There had been, indeed, no doubt in Princess -Montefiano's mind from the moment of her interview with Silvio that he -and Bianca Acorari would marry one another in the future, even were she -to insist on withholding her consent to their union for the present. -Monsieur d'Antin had been right when he said to himself that his sister -was capable of rising to a situation. In this instance she had done so -at considerably less cost, either to her feelings or to her authority -than she had anticipated, for she had speedily come to conceive a strong -liking for Silvio, a liking which had only increased as she grew better -acquainted with him. Nevertheless, in withdrawing her opposition to his -marriage to her step-daughter, she had insisted that a year should -elapse before it should take place: and in this stipulation she had been -supported not only by Don Agostino, who, indeed, had counselled her to -make it, but also by the Senator Rossano. Professor Rossano was -determined that nobody should be able to say that his son was over eager -to ally himself with Casa Acorari, or with any other noble house; and -there was, moreover, another motive for delay, which neither he nor -Monsignor Lelli deemed it advisable to explain to the princess, although -they had been obliged to do so to Silvio. - -The Abbe Roux had apparently been as good as his word when he declared -that he would cause all Rome to learn that Donna Bianca Acorari had -compromised herself by receiving, unknown to her relatives, the -addresses of a young man. Carefully veiled paragraphs had even appeared -in various Roman journals of the second rank, in which the clandestine -love-affair between the only daughter and last representative of a -princely house and the son of a well-known senator and scientist was -mysteriously hinted at. It did not need any great knowledge of the -world to realize what would infallibly be whispered were a marriage -between Donna Bianca Acorari and Silvio Rossano to be celebrated too -speedily. - -Silvio himself had been the first to see the wisdom of allowing twelve -months to expire before Bianca should become his wife; and he, no less -than his father, had no desire to be supposed to be over anxious for the -alliance on account of its worldly advantages. - -And so everything had been arranged satisfactorily for all the parties -chiefly concerned. Bianca herself, now that opposition to her -engagement was withdrawn, was quite content to listen to the advice of -those round her, especially as Silvio pointed out to her the wisdom of -delay. After the uncertainty of the past, the assurance that in a short -year they would be united for the remainder of their lives had seemed -almost too good to be true. - -And the months had sped quickly enough. Silvio had pursued his -profession, and had won for himself an increased reputation; and Bianca -Acorari and the princess had been happier together than they had ever -been before, passing the time between Montefiano and the Villa Acorari -near Velletri, and visiting only at rare intervals the old palace in -Rome. Bianca had developed a great affection for her home at -Montefiano; and, much to the satisfaction of the population, the castle -had been gradually refurnished and put in order, and she had announced -her intention of making it her almost constant residence in future. -Afterwards, when she and Silvio were married, the princess dowager would -occupy an apartment in Palazzo Acorari at Rome, and, if she so chose, -the villa at Velletri, to both of which she had a right for her -lifetime. She and her brother, Baron d'Antin, had already decided that -they would live together until such time as Monsieur d'Antin should -elect to return to his native country. - -A day or two before their wedding, Bianca had received a letter from -Monsieur d'Antin. It was a gay letter, full of congratulations and airy -trifles, but containing not even the most indirect allusion to the past. -Monsieur d'Antin was vexed beyond words--he assured his dear niece--that -he would be unable to interrupt the course of his baths at Aix, and thus -be present at her wedding; but the pores of his skin being now well -opened, it would be absolutely dangerous to travel so far. Bianca -showed the note to Silvio, who laughed and said nothing; but Don -Agostino, to whom he subsequently recounted the condition of Monsieur -d'Antin's skin, shrugged his shoulders and observed that the material in -question was assuredly too thick to be porous. - -And now the year of waiting had passed. In Cardinal Acorari's chapel, -inside the castle, Monsignor Lelli was saying the few brief words that -would make Silvio Rossano and Bianca Acorari man and wife. The civil -marriage had already been performed by the _sindaco_ of Montefiano, the -day before, and now the crowd was waiting in the court-yard for the -appearance of the _sposi_. - -Suddenly the doors at the top of the stone staircase were thrown back, -and shout after shout rent the air as Bianca and Silvio, followed by the -princess and Professor Rossano, Giacinta, and the remainder of the -witnesses of the religious ceremony appeared. - -Bianca led her husband forward, and for a few moments they stood -together, bowing and smiling in response to the vociferous applause from -below. - -Presently the cries of "_Evviva gli sposi!_" died away, to be succeeded -by cheers for the _principessa madre_ and for the Senator Rossano. Then -shouts of _"Evviva Don Agostino--evviva il nostro parroco_!" were -raised, as Don Agostino, more popular and beloved by his people than -ever, since the attack made upon him in that very place a year before, -advanced to where the young couple were standing. - -He had removed his vestments, and his tall, black form stood out in -sombre contrast with the color of the bridal dresses and the flowers -round him. - -For a moment or two he paused, holding both Silvio's and Bianca's hands -in his own. - -"God, and the spirits of God, protect you both, in this life and in the -life to come," he said; and, dropping their hands, he made the sign of -the cross over them. - -Then he turned, and, descending the steps, made his way quickly through -the crowd, and passed through the dark gateway into the golden sunlight -beyond. - - - - - THE END - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PASSPORT *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/46693 - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so -the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. -Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this -license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) -electronic works to protect the Project Gutenberg(tm) concept and -trademark. 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