Part 15

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.