Soon after five o’clock the Duca di Casalmaggiore sent in his card
to Monsieur de Maurienne. The diplomatist was engaged in examining
an etching by Robetta with a huge lens, under a strong light, and
was too much interested to desist until the Colonel was actually
in the room. He received his visitor, whom he knew very well, with
that formal courtesy which is considered becoming when an affair of
honour is to be discussed. He had expected a couple of officers of
Castiglione’s rank, and had asked two of his own friends to hold
themselves in readiness if he telephoned for them. He was surprised
that only one representative should appear for his adversary, and
that he should be no less a personage than the Colonel of the
regiment.
Casalmaggiore did not even seem inclined to behave with the solemn
gravity required on such an occasion. He sat down on a comfortable
chair and laid his laced cap unceremoniously upon a little table he
found at his elbow, instead of holding it in his hand and sitting
bolt upright with his sabre between his knees. De Maurienne thought
that Italians took duelling in much too free and easy a way, and he
stiffened a little and sat very straight. He was not prepared for
what was coming. Casalmaggiore spoke in French.
‘I shall begin by making a little apology,’ he said, leaning back
and folding his gloved hands.
De Maurienne’s eyebrows went up, high above the gold rims of his
glasses, and he spoke in a politely icy tone.
‘Indeed! I cannot see how any can be required from your side, under
the circumstances!’
‘Not from our friend Castiglione,’ answered the Colonel, ‘but on my
own behalf. I must really beg your pardon beforehand for what I am
going to say--always placing myself entirely at your disposal if I
should unintentionally offend you. Is that quite clear?’
‘Perfectly.’
‘Thank you. You are the victim of an unworthy trick, my dear de
Maurienne. I am going to take the liberty of explaining exactly
what has happened to you, by giving you the details of what
had just occurred when you entered Donna Teresa Crescenzi’s
drawing-room.’
De Maurienne looked at his visitor in surprise, and not without
some suspicion.
‘Donna Teresa is a connection of mine,’ observed Casalmaggiore,
‘and I know her extremely well. What I have to say about her should
not offend you. Castiglione came to me this afternoon and told me
the story. I know him to be a perfectly truthful and honourable
man, and I know that he is incapable of fear. Indeed, he does not
know what fear is.’
‘Allow me to say,’ said de Maurienne, ‘that with us, in France,
matters of this kind are discussed between the friends of the
principals. Is the practice different in your country?’
‘Not at all. But this is quite another sort of affair. I,
personally, give you my word that what I am going to tell you is
what really happened. You will understand that if I, as colonel,
give my word for that of one of my officers, I am fully aware of
the responsibility I undertake.’
‘This changes the aspect of things, I admit,’ said de Maurienne
gravely, but less coldly.
He had never been placed in such a position, nor had he ever heard
of just such a case.
‘Practically,’ continued the Colonel, ‘it transfers all the
responsibility to me. I know Castiglione to be a man of accurate
memory, and as soon as he was gone I wrote down precisely what he
had told me. Here it is.’
He took out his note-book, found the place, and read aloud a
precise account of what had passed between Teresa Crescenzi and
Castiglione up to the moment when de Maurienne had entered the
room. De Maurienne listened attentively.
‘My cousin--her father was my mother’s cousin--is a very ingenious
woman,’ concluded Casalmaggiore with a smile, and pocketing his
notes again. ‘I am sorry to say that I have known her to exhibit
her ingenuity in even more surprising ways than this.’
‘She told me that Castiglione had accused her of meeting me in an
equivocal place,’ said de Maurienne.
‘No doubt. We are rather afraid of her in Rome, and very much so in
the family.’
‘What is her object in all this?’
‘I hope I do not offend you by saying that my good cousin has
determined to marry you,’ answered Casalmaggiore, still smiling
faintly. ‘I should not expect you to share her enthusiasm on that
point. It would not be precisely tactful of me to ask if I am
right, but I shall be so free as to take it for granted. That being
the case, you cannot fail to see that if she led you into a duel on
her account, she would thereby be forcing you to compromise her to
such an extent that many persons would think you ought to marry her
as a matter of honour. If a man even distantly related to her, such
as I myself, for instance, took up a quarrel for her, there would
be at least the excuse of relationship, but there is not the shadow
of a reason why you should do such a thing, even if there were
any cause! That is all I have to say. I repeat that I am at your
disposal, if I have said anything to offend you.’
Monsieur de Maurienne was perfectly brave, and though he was no
duellist, and not even a good fencer, he would have faced the first
swordsman in Europe without turning a hair; it is therefore no
aspersion on his courage to say that he was afraid to marry Teresa
Crescenzi, though he thought her very pretty and amusing, if a
little vivid. The point explained by the Colonel had not escaped
him either, and he had spent a very unpleasant afternoon.
He considered the matter for a few moments before he spoke.
‘You have done me a great service,’ he said. ‘I have known
Castiglione several months, and, without any disrespect to Donna
Teresa, I must say that I was not fully persuaded of the exactness
of what she told me. I thought your cousin’s manner a little
strained--let us put it in that way.’
‘It is impossible to speak of a lady with greater consideration,’
said Casalmaggiore.
‘But I was placed in a difficult position, and very suddenly. Such
things happen now and then. Perhaps, in the same situation, you
yourself, or Castiglione, would have acted as hastily as I did.’
‘Quite so. Even more hastily, perhaps.’
The Colonel was thinking that under the circumstances he would have
told Donna Teresa exactly what he thought of her, taking advantage
of relationship to be extremely plain.
‘Castiglione,’ continued de Maurienne, ‘behaved in the most
honourable and forbearing way. I take great pleasure in saying that
I sincerely regret the offensive expressions I used, and that I
entertain the highest respect for him. Will you permit me? I will
write him a short note, by your kindness.’
‘Thank you. It will be much appreciated.’
A quarter of an hour later Castiglione’s orderly received another
shock to his nerves. When he answered the bell and saw his colonel
on the landing, resplendent in a perfectly new uniform, the trooper
flattened himself at attention against the open door with such
precision and violence that the back of his head struck the panel
with a crack like a pistol shot, his eyes almost started out of his
head, and he was completely speechless.
The Captain was in his sitting-room, poring over a new German book
on the functions of cavalry in war, and a well-worn dictionary lay
at his elbow. He started to his feet in surprise.
‘I think you will find this satisfactory,’ said Casalmaggiore,
handing him de Maurienne’s note and sitting down.
Castiglione read the contents quickly, still standing.
‘What in the world did you tell him?’ he asked in amazement.
‘The truth,’ answered the Colonel, suppressing a slight yawn, for
the whole affair had bored him excessively. ‘It is amazing what
miracles the truth will perform where everything else fails! If
Teresa could only realise that, she would simplify her existence.
As you have not gone to bed, in spite of my advice, come and dine
with me. I’ve got another idea about that mare, and I should like
to talk it over with you. I think it will succeed.’
Castiglione laughed a little.
‘I will come with pleasure,’ he said. ‘What is the new idea? I
thought you developed the subject pretty fully this afternoon.’
‘This has occurred to me since,’ answered Casalmaggiore gravely.
He was silent for a moment, pursuing his favourite scheme.
‘Castiglione,’ he said, rising suddenly and looking at his watch,
‘if you ever let Teresa guess that I have interfered with her
plans, I’ll court-martial you!’
‘Never fear!’ The Captain laughed again.
‘As for leave, I’m glad you would not take your two days. There is
a general strike again, and we shall certainly have some patrol
work to do, if nothing worse. After you had left me I got another
message from headquarters.’