Part 32

"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--"