The idea had long fixed itself in Cornélie's mind that she must speak
to Urania Hope; and one morning she sent her a note asking for an
appointment that afternoon. Miss Hope wrote back assenting; and at
five o'clock Cornélie found her at home in her handsome and expensive
sitting-room at Belloni's: many lights, many flowers; Urania hammering
on the piano in an indoor gown of Venetian lace; the table decked with
a rich tea, with cut bread-and-butter, cakes and sweets. Cornélie had
said that she wanted to see Miss Hope alone, on a matter of importance,
and at once asked if she would be alone, feeling a doubt about it, now
that Urania was receiving her so formally. But Urania reassured her:
she had said that she was at home to no one but Mrs. de Retz and was
very curious to know what Cornélie had come to talk about. Cornélie
reminded Urania of her former warning and, when Urania laughed, she
took her hand and looked at her with such serious eyes that she made an
impression of the American girl's frivolous nature and Urania became
puzzled. Urania now suddenly thought it very momentous--a secret,
an intrigue, a danger, in Rome!--and they whispered together. And
Cornélie, no longer feeling anxious amid this increasing intimacy,
confessed to Urania what she had heard through the half-open door: the
marchesa's machinations with her nephew, whom she was absolutely bent
on marrying to a rich heiress at the behest of the prince's father,
who seemed to have promised her so much for putting the match through.
Then she spoke of Miss Taylor's conversion, effected by Rudyard:
Rudyard, who did not seem able to achieve his purpose with Urania,
failing to obtain a hold on her confiding but frivolous, butterfly
nature, and who, as Cornélie suspected, had for that reason incurred
the disfavour of his ecclesiastical superiors and vanished without
settling his debt to the marchesa. His place appeared to have been
taken by the two _monsignori_, who looked more dignified and worldly
and displayed greater unctuousness, and were more lavish in smiles. And
Urania, staring at this danger, at these pit-falls under her feet which
Cornélie had suddenly revealed to her, now became really frightened,
turned pale and promised to be on her guard. Really she would have
liked to tell her maid to pack up at once, so flat they might leave
Rome as soon as possible, for another town, another _pension_, one
with lots of titled people: she adored titles! And Cornélie, seeing
that she had made an impression, continued, spoke of herself, spoke
of marriage in general, said that she had written a pamphlet against
marriage and on _The Social_ _Position of Divorced Women_. And she
spoke of the suffering which she had been through and of the feminist
movement in Holland. And, once in the vein, she abandoned all restraint
and talked more and more emphatically, until Urania thought her
exceedingly clever, a very clever girl, to be able to argue and write
like that on a _question brulante_, laying a fine stress on the first
syllables of the French words. She admitted that she would like to
have the vote and, as she said this, spread out the long train of her
lace tea-gown. Cornélie spoke of the injustice of the law which leaves
the wife nothing, takes everything from her and forces her entirely
into her husband's power; and Urania agreed with her and passed the
little dish of chocolate-creams. And, to the accompaniment of a second
cup of tea, they talked excitedly, both speaking at once, neither
listening to what the other was saying; and Urania said that it was a
shame. From the general discussion they relapsed to the consideration
of their particular interests: Cornélie depicted the character of her
husband, unable, in the coarseness of his nature, to understand a woman
or to consent that a woman should stand beside him and not beneath
him. And she once more returned to the Jesuits, to the danger of Rome
for rich girls travelling alone, to that virago of a marchesa and to
the prince, that titled bait which the Jesuits flung to win a soul and
to improve the finances of an impoverished Italian house which had
remained faithful to the Pope and refused to serve the king. And both
of them were so vehement and excited that they did not hear the knock
and looked up only when the door slowly opened. They started, glanced
round and both turned pale when they saw the Prince of Forte-Braccio
enter the room. He apologized with a smile, said that he had seen a
light in Miss Urania's sitting-room, that the porter had told him she
was engaged, but that he had ventured to disobey her orders. And he sat
down; and, in spite of all that they had been saying, Urania thought it
delightful to have the prince sitting there and accepting a cup of tea
at her hands and graciously consenting to eat a piece of cake.
And Urania showed her album of coats of arms--the prince had already
contributed an impression of his--and next the album with patterns
of the queen's ball-dresses. Then the prince laughed and felt in his
pocket for an envelope; he opened it and carefully produced a cutting
of blue brocade embroidered with silver and seed-pearls.
"What is it?" asked Urania, in ecstasy.
And he said that he had brought her a pattern of her majesty's last
dress; his cousin--not a Black, like himself, but a White, belonging
not to the papal but to the court party and a lady-in-waiting to the
queen--had procured this cutting for him for Urania's album. Urania
would see it herself: the queen would wear the dress at next week's
court ball. He was not going, he did not even go to his cousin's
officially, not to her parties; but he saw her sometimes, because of
the family relationship, out of friendship. And he begged Urania not
to give him away: it might injure him in his career--"What career?"
Cornélie wondered to herself--if people knew that he saw much of his
cousin; but he had called on her pretty often lately, for Urania's
sake, to get her that pattern.
And Urania was so grateful that she forgot all about the social
position of girls and women, married and unmarried, and would gladly
have sacrificed her right to the franchise for such a charming Italian
prince. Cornélie became vexed, rose, bowed coldly to the prince and
drew Urania with her to the door:
"Don't forget what we have been saying," she warned her. "Be on your
guard."
And she saw the prince look at her sarcastically as they whispered
together, suspecting that she was talking about him, but proud of the
power of his personality and title and attentions over the daughter of
an American stockinet-manufacturer.