Part 25

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.