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.

"But, Signor Mazza," he said, at length, "we must remember that these

affairs also concern the princess. She is responsible for the

administration of the property until Donna Bianca attains her majority.

I do not doubt, indeed, I am convinced, that her excellency is badly

advised. But if this is the case, she is not likely to listen to wiser

counsels at a moment's notice. It must be proved to her absolutely, and

beyond a possibility of doubt, that those whom she trusts are not

competent to advise her. You, my friends, declare that you wish well to

the Principessina Bianca and to Casa Acorari. If that is the case, do

not let us forget that though the princess is a foreigner, she is,

nevertheless, in a sense, the _principessa madre_, and as such is

entitled to respect and consideration. It will be a strange method of

showing your loyalty to Casa Acorari if you present yourselves with

threats and violence at the gates of the castle of Montefiano. Nor,

believe me, will you be doing yourselves any good by such a proceeding.

If the princess is a woman of any spirit, and if those who have advised

her are not cowards, she will only persist the more firmly in the course

she has adopted. The increase in the rents will be enforced, and our

friend Signor Fontana's dismissal will certainly not be recalled.

Moreover, it is scarcely likely that her excellency would be disposed to

allow Donna Bianca to be interviewed by those who had threatened to

dispute the authority of Donna Bianca's guardian."

As Don Agostino proceeded with his arguments, the faces of his audience

gradually became more lowering, and more than once murmurs of

disapproval and impatience were audible. Sor Stefano himself looked at

first disconcerted, and then suspicious.

"Your reverence appears to be very anxious to defend the princess," he

said, "but we Montefianesi want no foreigners. If her excellency has

evil counsellors round her, it is because she listens to strangers in

preference to trusting her husband's people. No, _reverendo_, we do not

forget that she is, as you say, the late prince's wife--but she is not

the _principessina's_ mother. And by all accounts she is not acting by

the _principessina_ as a mother would act by her child. We have

approached her excellency with fair words, and in a respectful and

legitimate manner. She has thought fit to answer us--in the way she has

answered us."

Sor Stefano stopped abruptly; then, turning from Don Agostino to the

crowd, ever growing more and more dense in the street, he raised his

voice yet louder.

"His reverence," he exclaimed, "does not quite understand us, my

friends! Oh, it is natural; for, after all, he is a priest, and it is a

priest who is at the bottom of the whole business! _Si capisce!_ the

Church must support the Church. But Don Agostino does not understand

us. He thinks that we are considering our interests only--that our only

object in going to the castle is to insist on the rents remaining as

they were, and on Sor Beppe being recalled to his post. If that were

all, _reverendo_, we should not take the trouble to go to the

castle--_niente affato_! The rents would not be paid--and as to the new

_fattore_ whom the foreign priest has appointed--well, he would be a

brave man to remain long in Montefiano. He would receive hints--oh,

that the air of Montefiano was unhealthy for strangers. And if he did

not take the hints and remove himself, the air would no doubt prove

fatal. No, we go to the castle because we wish to see and to speak with

the _principessina_--because we wish to know what truth there is in

certain stories we have heard--that the _principessina_ is, as it were,

a prisoner here at Montefiano until she gives herself up to the lust of

an old foreigner instead of to the love of a Roman youth she wants to

marry. We wish to learn if it is true that the Abbe Roux is in reality

the lessee of the rents on the Montefiano _latifondo_, and that he means

to force the _principessina_ to marry her uncle for reasons of his own.

These are our reasons, _reverendo_, for insisting on seeing the

_principessina_ herself, and for being determined to force our way into

the castle, if we are compelled to do so. Have I spoken well, or ill?"

A shout from the crowd answered Sor Stefano's speech.

"_Al castello--andiamo al castello! Fuori gli stranieri--evviva la

Principessina Bianca!_"

Sor Stefano looked at Don Agostino. "You hear, _reverendo_?" he asked.

"I hear," Don Agostino replied, quietly, and then, drawing himself up to

his full height, he added, "And I repeat, with you, '_Evviva la

Principessina Donna Bianca Acorari!_' You, Signor Mazza, have spoken,

and much that you have said is just. But you have also said what is not

just. If I defend the princess, it is because I believe that lady to be

innocent of the conduct towards her step-daughter which you impute to

her. I believe her to be influenced by dishonest persons who have

succeeded in gaining her entire confidence, and in persuading her that

she is doing her duty by Donna Bianca. It makes no difference to me

that one of these dishonest persons--the chief among them--happens to be

a priest. I have not defended his conduct, but merely that of the

princess, who has, I believe, been deceived by his advice. It is true,

Signor Mazza, that the Church must support the Church; and concerning

the Abbe Roux as a priest, I have nothing to say. It is with the Abbe

Roux as a man of business that I am concerned--and I have already

expressed my opinion of him in that respect. But these things are beside

the point. I came here to learn your intentions, my friends, as regards

the action of the deputation of which I consented to be a member. I

speak frankly. If that action is to be such as you seem to be bent

upon, I will not be a party to it. To give my approval to a course

which must almost inevitably lead to disorder, if not to worse, would

not be consistent with my duty either to you as my parishioners or to

myself as a priest. I tell you that you will gain nothing by threats

and demonstrations, and the position of the _principessina_ will

certainly not be improved by any interference of such a character. All

that will happen will be that the princess--who, remember, is within her

rights and has the law behind her--will call upon the authorities to

assist her and to maintain order at Montefiano. You, Signor Mazza, know

as well as I do what would be the result of continued resistance under

such circumstances. They are not results which any one who wishes well

to Montefiano cares to contemplate, and certainly not results which I, a

priest, can assist in bringing about. No, my friends, let us be

reasonable! You have done me the honor to say that you trust me. Well,

I am going to ask you to trust me a little longer--for a few hours

longer. I told you that I had one or two suggestions to make to you,

and I should like to make my second suggestion."

Don Agostino's audience was apparently undecided. The younger and more

excited among the crowd seemed eager for instant action, but the older

heads were evidently ready to listen to the _parroco's_ advice.

At this juncture no less a person than the _sindaco_ intervened. The

_avvocato_ Ricci had taken no part in the proceedings, though he had

been present when Don Agostino entered the _caffe_. He was, indeed, in

a lamentable position of embarrassment and difficulty, what with his

fear of offending Sor Stefano on the one hand, and his anxiety lest he

should be compromised in the eyes of the authorities on the other. Don

Agostino's last sentences, however, had given him the courage to open

his lips and to join the _parroco_ in dissociating himself from a

movement which threatened to become prolific of disorder. Don

Agostino's allusion to the danger of so acting as to oblige the princess

and her advisers to seek the aid of the authorities had finally decided

the _sindaco_ of Montefiano to brave the resentment of the man who held

so much of his paper locked away in his strong-box.

"In my opinion," he said, "his reverence is right. If it is

inconsistent with his duty as _parroco_ of Montefiano to associate

himself with a movement which tends to create disorder, it is equally

inconsistent that I who, as _sindaco_, am responsible to the civil

authorities for the maintenance of law and order in the commune should

in any way countenance a course which, as Don Agostino justly says,

might lead to very deplorable consequences. His reverence, however, has

some other suggestion to offer. Is it not so?" he added, turning to Don

Agostino.

The intervention was opportune, and Don Agostino felt it to be so. He

was determined to prevent, if possible, the proposed march upon the

castle by an angry and excited crowd of uneducated peasants and petty

farmers. It was not that he feared any violence or excesses on their

part, beyond that of perhaps forcing an entrance into the courtyard of

the castle, if they found the gates barred against them. He dreaded

lest a further blunder should be committed by the Princess Montefiano

and those who were advising her. The refusal to receive the deputation

and the manner of that refusal were blunders enough; but a still graver

error in judgment would be committed were the princess to allow the

matter to pass out of her own hands into those of the authorities, civil

or military. Don Agostino was determined that if more blunders were

committed, he would at all events do all that lay in his power to

prevent the people themselves from furnishing any excuse for these

blunders.

"Yes, my friends," he said, after considering for a few moments, "I have

another suggestion to make to you. It is this. It is possible that the

princess, although unwilling to receive a deputation, would consent to

receive your _sindaco_ and myself, and listen to our representations on

your behalf. I think, indeed, that her excellency could scarcely

decline to receive us under the circumstances; and we could request that

the Principessina Donna Bianca should be present at the interview and

hear what we have to say on behalf of her people. At least, no

reasonable objection could be taken to this step by her excellency's

advisers, and it is possible that we might succeed in demonstrating to

the princess that these advisers have misled her. I am ready to go to

the castle this afternoon," he continued. "and ask to see her excellency

and Donna Bianca. Doubtless, Signor Sindaco, you will accompany me," he

added.

The _avvocato_ Ricci glanced nervously at Sor Stefano, then he shook his

head. "I think not, Don Agostino," he said. "That you should go and

attempt to arrange matters with her excellency is very right and proper.

But I am not inclined to interfere unless I should be called upon to do

so in my official capacity--a thing which I trust may not happen. No,

_signori_," he added, turning to the listening crowd, "I feel sure that

your interests are safe in Don Agostino's hands, and his advice is good.

Let him go this afternoon to the castle as your representative. The

princess has the reputation of being a very devout lady. She will

doubtless, therefore, be pleased to receive a visit from the _parroco_

of Montefiano. In the mean time, my friends, let us be calm and

patient, and await the result of his reverence's interview with the

princess and Donna Bianca."

It was evident that Don Agostino's suggestion, seconded as it was by the

official influence of the _sindaco_, found favor with the majority of

the assembly both within and outside the Caffe Garibaldi. There were a

few dissentient voices, and Sor Stefano himself seemed to sympathize

with those who were clamoring for more immediate and united action.

Don Agostino took Stefano Mazza aside for a minute or two and spoke

earnestly with him. He pointed out how imprudent it would be to

encourage the people to go to the castle in their present excited frame

of mind. Delay, he argued, was everything, for it would also afford

those at the castle time to realize their mistake; and very likely he,

Don Agostino, would be able to bring matters at any rate to a

compromise, which should satisfy both parties.

To his great relief, Sor Stefano yielded to his persuasions, although he

did so with a bad grace. For some reason or other it was clear that Sor

Stefano was anxious that matters should come to a crisis; and Don

Agostino had throughout wondered what his object might be in so openly

supporting the peasants and the more violent faction of the community in

their desire to present themselves in person at the castle and force the

princess to give way.

A few words from Sor Stefano were sufficient to silence the objections

of the minority to the _parroco's_ proposal, and after promising that he

would go that very afternoon to the castle, Don Agostino left the

_caffe_, saluted as he made his way through the crowd by friendly cheers

from his parishioners.

*XXX*

It was not to be expected that the excitement and ill-feeling produced

by Princess Montefiano's curt refusal to receive the deputation which

had been formed to wait upon her should be unknown in the castle. The

Abbe Roux, indeed, was not without his means of information as to what

was going on in the _paese_; but it so happened that the intelligence

supplied to him was not infrequently both inaccurate and misleading. As

he had said to Monsieur d'Antin, he was aware that the dismissal of the

agent Fontana had aroused a certain amount of opposition and even of

indignation; but he was certainly ignorant of the extent and depth of

the feeling his action had excited in the commune. In his opinion, the

ill-feeling that he had been told was being manifested by the peasants

was merely the result of an attempt on the part of the dismissed

_fattore_ and his friends to frighten the princess and lead her to

recall Fontana to his post and to give way on the question of the

raising of the rents. He was persuaded that it was only necessary to be

firm, and not to listen to any attempt on the part of the _contadini_ to

discuss the matter with the administration of Casa Acorari, and in a few

days things would quiet down. He had not, therefore, thought fit to

tell Princess Montefiano more than was absolutely necessary of the state

of affairs prevailing in the _paese_, and he had represented the whole

matter as a trifle which was not worthy of her consideration. It is

possible that had the abbe been better informed he would have regarded

the situation in a different light. If he had known, for instance, of

the stories assiduously circulated throughout the district during the

last few weeks concerning Donna Bianca Acorari, and the treatment to

which she was being subjected--stories which certainly had lost nothing

in the process of diffusion--if he had suspected that it was being

openly asserted that he and none other was the new lessee of the

Montefiano rents, that mysterious _affittuario_, who had never hitherto

been seen in the flesh, he would doubtless have proceeded more

cautiously. But the Abbe Roux was not well informed. Indeed, could he

but have known it, he was being wilfully misled by those whom he

believed to be his friends, not only at Montefiano, but also at Palazzo

Acorari in Rome, where the business of Casa Acorari was transacted.

Long as he had lived in Italy, he had got to learn that he was no match

for a certain class of Italians, and more especially of Romans, at petty

intrigue. Not a syllable had reached his ears which could lead him to

suspect that not only was his actual position with regard to the Acorari

estates known, but that the entire scheme by which he hoped to retain

that position for a period long enough to enable him to make a

considerable sum of money out of it was known also.

It was natural, therefore, that the letter announcing to Princess

Montefiano that a deputation from the peasantry proposed to wait upon

her, and stating that its members were commissioned particularly to

request a personal interview with the Principessina Donna Bianca, should

have caused both its recipient and the Abbe Roux considerable surprise.

It had been surprise only, however, and that feeling had been quickly

followed by one of contemptuous indifference. The princess, indeed, was

not a little indignant. The pointed request that her step-daughter

should be personally approached by the tenantry of Montefiano seemed to

her to be a reflection upon herself and her position; a stone, as it

were, cast against her authority. The Abbe Roux had certainly not

attempted to soothe her ruffled feelings. He had, on the contrary,

inveighed against the insolence of the peasantry in venturing to send

such a document to her excellency, and against the obvious disrespect

towards her rule conveyed in the request that the deputation should

speak with Donna Bianca in person. He had assured the princess and

Monsieur d'Antin, to whom she had shown the letter, that the whole

affair was a trifle--a mere _ballon d'essai_ on the part of Fontana and

his friends to intimidate her excellency with a view to regaining his

post. As to the grievance about the rents, that was nonsense. The

holdings in question had been for many years under-rented; and the

tenants could perfectly well afford to pay the trifling addition

imposed. Had he, the abbe, not gone thoroughly into the question, he

would not have counselled any increase, but Fontana had been very lax,

very behind the times, and he had evidently thought more of keeping on

good terms with the _contadini_ than of the legitimate interests of his

employers.

Monsieur d'Antin had shrugged his shoulders and declined to give an

opinion. He did not understand Italian peasants, and he did not want to

understand them. He was quite convinced in his own mind that the abbe

was making a purse for himself, but doubtless the abbe knew what he was

about, and it was no part of Baron d'Antin's programme to interfere in

the priest's little arrangements. His sister's indignation at the

allusion to Bianca rather amused him. Jeanne was certainly tenacious of

her rights. She would have made an admirable mother-superior--yes,

admirable.

The princess, who did not lack spirit, had required no advice as to the

manner in which she should reply to the letter in question. To do her

justice, she was not a woman to be intimidated by what she fully

believed to be a blow levelled at her authority by a body of uneducated

peasants, instigated to disaffection by a dismissed servant.

The Abbe Roux had scornfully pointed out to her the name of Don Agostino

Lelli as being one of the proposed deputation. It was quite sufficient,

he declared, that such an individual should be one of its leaders to

prove the real character of the movement. The _parroco_ of Montefiano

had persistently interfered, as Madame la Princesse well knew, in

affairs that were quite outside his province, and no doubt he and the

dismissed agent were acting in concert. Besides, a priest who had so

notoriously fallen into disgrace at Rome was certainly not a fitting

person to be received by the princess at the bidding of a few peasants.

In this latter sentiment Monsieur d'Antin had heartily supported the

abbe. It was decidedly not advisable that Monsignor Lelli should

succeed in obtaining even a single interview with Bianca Acorari.

Monsieur d'Antin and the abbe had exchanged a rapid but significant

glance when they observed that among those whom the peasants had

designated to represent their cause was the name of Don Agostino Lelli;

and both of them had resolved that Monsignor Lelli should have no

opportunity of even seeing Bianca.

Princess Montefiano had wished to despatch her reply at once to the

signatories of the letter she had received, but the abbe counselled

delay. Although he affected to regard the whole matter with contempt,

he was not quite easy in his mind as to what the effects of so curt a

refusal to receive the peasants' deputation might be. He had persuaded

the princess, therefore, to keep back her answer until the following

morning. He wished to ascertain the exact state of public opinion in

Montefiano, and also to prepare for possible emergencies. It had not

been without some difficulty that he had succeeded in persuading the

princess not at once to send her reply, and it was only when her brother

added his representations to those of the abbe that Princess Montefiano

had finally consented to any delay. In the mean time, all knowledge of

what was happening was carefully kept from Bianca Acorari. The Abbe

Roux found it easy enough to point out the advisability of not allowing

the fact of there being any difficulty with the people to transpire to

Donna Bianca, and more especially that a personal interview with her had

been sought by their representatives. The princess had no desire to

bring her step-daughter forwards, since by so doing, she would only

diminish her own authority to which she was legally entitled. It was

absurd to suppose that Bianca could possibly understand business

matters; and, as the abbe pointed out, the endeavor to drag an

inexperienced girl into such questions was only another proof that the

whole agitation had been formed with a view to intimidation. It would

be wiser, Monsieur l'Abbe argued, to leave Donna Bianca in complete

ignorance of the situation; and so, by common consent, not a word was

said in her presence that could lead her to suspect that anything

unusual was taking place.

In the mean time, the Abbe Roux sent a private note to the _sindaco_ of

Montefiano, begging that official to come to see him that evening after

dusk at the castle, and enjoining him to keep his visit a secret, as,

for obvious reasons, it would not be advisable that it should be known

in the _paese_ that they had conferred together.

The _sindaco's_ report had certainly not diminished the Abbe Roux's

growing apprehensions. It was evident that the _avvocato_ Ricci

regarded the agitation as wide-spread and likely to assume serious

proportions. It was headed, as he assured the abbe, by influential

members of the community, whose support would undoubtedly encourage the

_contadini_ to persist in their attitude. He himself had been

approached, and it was true that he had consented to join the proposed

deputation to the princess; but he had done so in the hope of exerting

his official influence to keep the agitation within legitimate bounds.

Among the chief supporters of the peasantry he could assure the abbe

that the _parroco_, Don Agostino Lelli, was one of the most active, and,

by virtue of his position, perhaps the most influential. It was, of

course, well known that the _parroco_ was taking this part out of

friendship for and sympathy with the _fattore_, Giuseppe Fontana. The

Abbe Roux made a gesture of impatience and anger.

"Don Agostino Lelli had better confine himself to his duties," he

exclaimed, "otherwise he will find himself removed from Montefiano, as,

years ago, he was removed from his post in Rome. You are of opinion,

then," he continued, "that this affair is likely to become serious; that

disorders, in short, might break out if her excellency the princess

refuses to receive this deputation?"

The _sindaco_ hesitated. "It depends," he replied.

"And upon what?" asked the abbe, sharply.

"Upon--well, upon whether her excellency is prepared to stand firm, and

to take the possible consequences of her refusal. After all, she has

the force of the law on her side--"

"And the force of public opinion on the other side," interrupted the

abbe.

The mayor of Montefiano shrugged his shoulders. "_Caro signore_," he

observed, "the sight of a few bayonets soon changes public opinion. I

believe that the peasants will very quickly turn round and disown their

own supporters, if they once realize that her excellency will not give

way to their demands. In any case, you can rely upon my doing my duty

in safeguarding the public order in this commune. Her excellency has

only to request the aid of the authorities in the event of the

_contadini_ proceeding to any excesses, and a telegram to the military

authorities at Civitacastellana will do the rest. In the space of three

or four hours troops could be on the spot."

"Ah!" repeated the Abbe Roux, thoughtfully; "in the space of three or

four hours, you say?"

"_Sicuro!_ perhaps less. In my opinion there would be nothing to fear.

The sight of the soldiers would soon reduce the peasants to reason."

The abbe looked at him quickly. "The princess has already decided to

refuse to receive this deputation," he said. "She has written a very

abrupt refusal. I have persuaded her to delay its despatch for a few

hours. It appears, however, that there is no reason why it should not

be sent to-morrow."

"It will increase the ill-feeling, no doubt," said the _sindaco_--"very

seriously increase it, I fear. Still, if her excellency has the courage

to stand firm, there can be but one issue. In the end the _contadini_

will have to give way, and then they will infallibly turn against those

who have encouraged them to create disturbances. It is always like

that."

The Abbe Roux did not reply for a moment or two. Then he said,

suddenly: "There is one thing I do not quite understand, Signor Ricci.

Why does this deputation insist upon seeing Donna Bianca Acorari? The

people must surely know that Donna Bianca, being a minor, has no voice

in matters connected with the administration of her property. This

insistence on speaking with her is scarcely respectful to the princess,

who alone has any authority in the matter. As you were to be a member

of the deputation, no doubt you can explain the meaning of this request

to interview Donna Bianca?"

The _sindaco_ hesitated. Then, having made up his mind to lie, he lied

soundly but plausibly, as only an Italian official of the bureaucracy

can lie.

"It is very simple," he said, with a laugh. "The peasants have got an

idea into their heads that Donna Bianca would take their part and

intercede for them, because--well, because she is an Acorari, and her

excellency the princess is, after all, a stranger. It is mere

sentiment, of course, with a certain amount of shrewdness at the back of

it. No doubt the _parroco_, Don Agostino, has put the idea into their

heads. But there is nothing in it but sentiment--nothing at all, Signor

Abate, I can assure you. I objected to the introduction of Donna

Bianca's name into the business, but it was better to let the

_contadini_ have their own way about what is, after all, a mere trifle.

They do not realize that the _principessina_ has, as you say, no voice

in such matters, being a minor."

The abbe nodded. "I quite understand," he said, pleasantly. "No doubt

it has been part of the scheme of these agitators to work upon the

sentiment of the peasantry for Donna Bianca, as being their future

_padrona_. But, luckily for her, she has those about her who know how

to protect her interests and to guard her against being imposed upon.

Well, Signor Sindaco, to-morrow morning the princess will send her

answer. It is, as I have already told you, a refusal to receive the

deputation, or to discuss its objects. You may be sure that her

excellency will not give way, no matter what attitude the people may

assume. If that attitude should become threatening, we may have to seek

the aid of the authorities through you. _A proposito_, would it not be

as well to warn the military authorities that a handful of soldiers

might be required to keep order at Montefiano? On the receipt of a

telegram they could then be despatched without delay. You can doubtless

arrange to do this without the matter becoming known; and then, should

it be necessary, we would request you to send the telegram regarding the

immediate presence of the troops. By these means we could give the

idiots the unpleasant surprise of finding that we were prepared for any

folly they might attempt to commit. At least the display of a little

force could do no harm, and would probably have an excellent moral

effect. But not a word, _caro signore_, of our conference to-night. I

trust that your visit to the castle will not have been observed by any

of the people. By-the-way, should there be any fresh development in the

situation to-morrow morning, after the tenor of the princess's reply has

become known, I must beg that you will communicate with me."

The _sindaco_ of Montefiano took his leave, assuring the Abbe Roux that

all should be done as he had suggested. The evening was dark and rainy,

and he encountered nobody on the steep road leading up to the castle

from the town below. At any rate, the _avvocato_ Ricci thought to

himself, he had secured himself against any misrepresentation at Rome of

his conduct. If Sor Stefano and the peasantry insisted upon continuing

the agitation, there would infallibly be mischief, and in that case it

was as well to be on the winning side, which side must inevitably be

supported by the authorities. It was certainly no affair of his to

enlighten the _abate_ as to the real object of the deputation in having

insisted upon seeing Donna Bianca Acorari. His affair was to avoid

compromising himself in the eyes of the authorities in Rome, and the

Abate Roux would have to weather the storm he had created as best he

could. The lawyer was not a little struck by the Abbe Roux's caution in

providing for a speedy and unexpected appearance on the scene of

military force, should its presence be desirable. "Even Sor Stefano,"

he said to himself, with a chuckle, "would talk less loudly if he were

suddenly to find himself confronted by a company of infantry with fixed

bayonets, and he, Augusto Ricci, might earn the approval of the minister

of the interior and head of the government in Rome for his promptitude

in suppressing threatened disorder in the commune of which he was

_sindaco_."

*XXXI*

After leaving the Caffe Garibaldi, Don Agostino returned to his house in

a very thoughtful frame of mind. He had promised to go himself to

Princess Montefiano and put the peasants' case before her. He had

promised, also, that he would speak with Donna Bianca Acorari

personally. The question now arose how he was to accomplish what he had

undertaken. The princess, it was true, could scarcely refuse to receive

him without that refusal being a marked rudeness to him as _parroco_ of

Montefiano; at the same time, Don Agostino was perfectly aware that she

had certainly not displayed any desire to make his personal

acquaintance. He had duly left his card, as politeness required, after

her arrival at the castle, and had received no invitation to repeat his

visit. The fact had not surprised or annoyed him. He had been

tolerably well acquainted with the Abbe Roux in the days when that

ecclesiastic was the secretary to a cardinal who had always been his

bitter enemy, and who, he well knew, had been more active than any one

else at the Vatican in clamoring for his removal and disgrace. The

acquaintance had not been a pleasant one, and certain details in the

abbe's career which happened to have come to his knowledge had not made

Don Agostino desirous of improving it.

It was not likely, therefore, that the Abbe Roux would welcome his

presence at the castle of Montefiano, and he would doubtless have used

his influence with the princess to prevent her from knowing him in any

way than as a priest on Acorari property, who might sometimes have

occasion to address a letter to her concerning the needs of his

parishioners.

It was certainly from no personal motives that Don Agostino, as he

walked back to his house that morning, felt almost nervously anxious

lest he should be refused admittance to Princess Montefiano's presence.

When he had sought to defend her against the accusations which he was

well aware had been made against her of unmotherly conduct towards her

step-daughter, he had done so because he believed these accusations to

be, if not altogether unfounded, at least erroneous. He had always felt

confident that the princess was a victim to her own religious

enthusiasm; she had fallen an easy prey to a type of ecclesiastic with

which his experience in Rome had brought him into contact on several

occasions, and of which the Abbe Roux was no uncommon example. He was

convinced that the moment had arrived when the Princess Montefiano's

eyes might be opened, and when it might be demonstrated to her, beyond

any possibility of doubt, that the counsellor in whom she had trusted

had never been worthy of her confidence.

At the same time it was clear that the Abbe Roux was master of the

actual situation, and that, having succeeded in getting rid of the one

official at Montefiano who for thirty years had had the true interests

of his employers at heart, it was not likely he would permit the

princess to be approached by the _parroco_ of Montefiano, who was known

to regard the agent's dismissal as both a mistake and an injustice. The

position, however, was serious; and all the more so because it was quite

evident that neither the princess nor the abbe realized its gravity.

Any rebellious attitude that the peasants might be driven by

exasperation to assume could, it was true, be ultimately suppressed by

the intervention of the military at the instance of the civil

authorities of the commune. But Don Agostino well knew the legacy of

hatred and smouldering resentment which such intervention almost

invariably left behind it. If he could save his lost Bianca's child

from the enduring unpopularity which her step-mother and the Abbe Roux

were certainly doing their best to bring upon her by their mistaken

policy regarding the administration of her property, he would certainly

do so, at whatever cost to himself. Yes, at four o'clock that afternoon

he would go to the castle. By that hour the princess would certainly be

visible, if she chose to be visible. He would send up his card to her

with an urgent request that she would see him on a matter of grave

importance. If she refused to do so, he would write to her--but such a

letter as would leave her no possibility of mistaking his meaning.

The afternoon's task was certainly neither an easy nor an agreeable one;

but it must in some way or another be accomplished. At least, Don

Agostino reflected, he would have done his duty to his people at

Montefiano, to Bianca Acorari, and to that absent Bianca who had

assuredly willed that he should strive to protect her child.

Don Agostino entered his garden through the little gate by the side of

the church. As he approached the house, he was surprised to hear,

through the open window of his study, Ernana talking in earnest tones

inside the room. His surprise was still greater, however, when at the

sound of his footsteps on the gravel-path, Silvio Rossano's form

appeared at the window. For a moment, indeed, Don Agostino felt

something very like dismay. There were complications enough and to

spare without fresh material being added to increase their number. He

had purposely delayed writing again to Silvio, thinking that in a day or

two the threatened disturbances would have either subsided or assumed

proportions which might make his presence at Montefiano desirable in his

own and Bianca Acorari's interest. Don Agostino doubted very much,

however, whether this was the moment for Silvio to be seen at

Montefiano. If his presence became known at the castle, it would

probably be regarded by the princess as a proof that the agitation among

the peasants had a further scope than merely to obtain the redress of

their own and Fontana's grievances. She would not unreasonably suspect

that he, Don Agostino, was using the agitation as a means whereby to

help Silvio Rossano in renewing his endeavors to marry her

step-daughter. As a matter of fact, Don Agostino was quite prepared so

to use it, if its results were such as to encourage him to do so. But

it would most certainly not further Bianca's or Silvio's interests were

it to be supposed that these interests were in any way connected with

the business that would take Don Agostino to the castle that afternoon.

He hurried into the house and met Silvio in the little passage outside

his study.

"Am I an unwelcome guest?" Silvio said to him, quickly. "I hope not,

because--"

"You are always welcome," interrupted Don Agostino, "but--well, to tell

you the truth, Silvio, I am not sure that I am very pleased to see you.

But if I am not pleased, it is on your own account, not on mine. May

one ask what has brought you here so unexpectedly, _ragazzo mio_?"

Silvio took a crumpled newspaper out of his pocket--the number of the

_Tribuna_ that his father had shown him the night before.

"That," he replied, briefly, handing the paper to Don Agostino, and

pointing to the telegram dated from Montefiano.

Don Agostino read it. Then he uttered an exclamation of anger.

"Idiots!" he exclaimed; "idiots, and cowards, too! This is the Abbe

Roux's doing, of course. Well, it is another blunder, an irremediable

blunder. In two or three hours' time the report will be all over

Montefiano that troops have been sent for. The afternoon post will

bring the _Tribuna_--" He paused in evident agitation.

"I could not remain quietly in Rome after reading that," said Silvio.

"So I took the morning train, and here I am. At first I could not

understand what it all meant; for Bianca, though she mentioned that

there was some trouble with the people because the Abbe Roux had

persuaded her step-mother to dismiss the _fattore_, certainly did not

write as if it was anything serious. All the same, I was uneasy, for

one never knows what a small matter of this kind may not develop into.

But Ernana, to whom I have been talking while waiting for you, has given

me to understand that it is by no means a small matter, but that the

people are really angry and threatening to force their way into the

castle."

Don Agostino nodded. "Ernana is right," he said; "it is not a small

thing. I fear, directly this telegram in the _Tribuna_ becomes known,

that it will speedily become a very much bigger thing."

"Then I am doubly glad that I am here," observed Silvio, quietly.

Don Agostino glanced at him. "A moment ago," he said, "I wished that

you had not appeared upon the scene. I did not think the time had

arrived for you to do so. It was for this reason I delayed writing to

you. I had hoped that, whatever might occur, no military aid would be

asked for in order to settle a question which only needed to be handled

with a little tact and in a conciliatory spirit. This telegram, however,

alters the aspect of affairs considerably, and, on the whole, yes,

Silvio, I think I am glad you have come. But for the next few hours, at

any rate, you must not show yourself. Do you think your arrival here

has been observed?" he added.

Silvio shook his head. "I think not," he replied. "Indeed, I hardly

met a soul on my way here from Attigliano."

"The people are all in the _paese_," said Don Agostino. "The peasants

have come in from miles around. No, you must certainly not be seen--at

all events, till I have been to the castle."

"You are going to the castle?" Silvio asked, in some surprise.

Don Agostino briefly related to him the events of the morning, and

explained how, as a last hope of bringing about a pacific solution of

the situation, and of making the princess realize the danger of the

policy the Abbe Roux had made her adopt, he had volunteered to ask to

see her and Bianca Acorari personally.

"It was by no means easy," he said, "to persuade the more excited among

the people to consent to my going to the princess. They suspected me of

being in sympathy with the Abbe Roux," he added, with a smile.

"Fortunately, however, the _sindaco_ supported me, and I persuaded a

certain Mazza, who is practically the money-lender to all this district,

and who for some reasons of his own is backing up the peasants, to

advise the people to refrain from any further action until I had

communicated to them the results of my interview with the princess. One

thing is very certain," he continued, "I must, if possible, see Princess

Montefiano before the news that troops have been asked for is known in

the place. There is no saying what may not happen, in the mood the

peasants are now in, should it be known that the princess has sought the

intervention of the authorities rather than consent to receive a

deputation."

"The telegram does not say that troops have actually been

requisitioned," said Silvio; "it alludes to the probability of their

being so, if the situation at Montefiano should not improve. It appears

to me," he continued, "that the communication is something in the nature

of a warning, or a threat, whichever you like to call it."

Don Agostino read the paragraph in the _Tribuna_ again.

"That is true," he said, "and you are right, Silvio. Whoever

communicated the intelligence to the _Tribuna_ probably intended it both

as a warning and as a threat. Well, as the former, it will have very

little effect. As the latter, it will have a very bad effect, for it

will be bitterly resented, unless I am much mistaken. In the mean time,

there is no time to be lost. We must trust to the people keeping quiet

for another few hours, until I have been to the castle. But you, my

friend, must remain quietly here, unseen by anybody. I shall tell

Ernana she must hold her tongue about your arrival. For you have become

a celebrity in Montefiano, Silvio," he added, with a smile, "and

everybody would know what had brought you here."

"Ah," exclaimed Silvio, "that is a thing I do not understand! How in

the world have the people here got to know about Bianca and myself?

Certainly the princess would not allow it to be talked about by anybody

belonging to her household; and who else, except yourself, knows of it?"

Don Agostino shrugged his shoulders. "It is known by everybody that

Donna Bianca has declared that she will marry nobody if she does not

marry you," he replied. "Indeed," he continued, "I believe it is this

love-affair of the _principessina_, as they call her, that has done more

than anything else to arouse the indignation of the people against the

princess and her brother and against the Abbe Roux. As yet they have not

seen the young Roman whom their _padrona_ wishes for a husband instead

of Baron d'Antin. When they do see him-- But do not let us waste any

more time in talking, Silvio. Before we do anything else, let us have

breakfast. You must be quite ready for it after your journey, and it is

nearly one o'clock."

A couple of hours later Don Agostino left his house, and, choosing a

lane leading through the outskirts of the town, in order to avoid the

groups of peasants which would still be thronging the main street, made

his way to the castle, having extracted a promise from Silvio that the

latter would not go into the _paese_ until he had returned from his

visit to the princess.

He could not help suspecting that his appearance at the entrance-gate of

the castle was not altogether unexpected; for the two servants who, in

response to his ringing the bell, drew back a lattice and surveyed him

from the inside, promptly closed it, and threw open the great wooden

doors studded with heavy iron nails, and as promptly closed and bolted

them again as soon as he had passed into the court-yard.

Don Agostino informed them that he had come to see her excellency the

princess on important business, and producing his card, asked that it

might be taken to her at once, with the urgent request that she would

receive him.

He was conducted across the court and up a flight of steps leading into

a large hall on the first floor of the building, where he was left while

the domestics went to execute their commission. In a few minutes one of

the men returned. He was desired by her excellency to tell his

reverence that she regretted being unable to receive him in person, but

her brother, Baron d'Antin, and the Abbe Roux would be happy to see him

in her place.

Don Agostino attempted to demur. It was of the greatest importance, he

said, that he should see her excellency personally.

The venerable _maggior-domo_ spread out his hands with an apologetic

gesture. He was grieved, he declared, to be obliged to disappoint his

reverence, but her excellency had given strict orders that she was not

to be disturbed--that she could receive no one. The Signor Barone and

the Abbe Roux were ready to receive his reverence, if he would be

pleased to follow him.

Don Agostino hesitated for a moment. Then he came to the conclusion

that he had better accept the compromise that had evidently been made.

Perhaps, indeed, the princess's absence might be an advantage. He could

speak very plainly to Monsieur d'Antin and to the Abbe Roux if it became

necessary to do so--more plainly, perhaps, than he could have done had

Princess Montefiano been present. At any rate, he was inside the

castle, and had been offered an opportunity of discussing the situation

with those who were chiefly responsible for its existence, and this was

something gained.

He had thought it more than likely that he would not be admitted within

the castle walls, and that he would have to return to the _paese_ with

the intelligence that he had failed in his mission.

He followed the _maggior-domo_ through the long gallery, with which the

hall where he had waited communicated, and was ushered into the room

used by the Abbe Roux as his study. The abbe, however, was not present,

and Monsieur d'Antin came forward and introduced himself. His sister,

he assured Don Agostino, much regretted her inability to receive him,

but the events of the last day or two had somewhat upset her--and, after

all, if he were not mistaken, Monsignor Lelli's business was more

suitable for discussion by himself and Monsieur l'Abbe Roux than by

ladies--was it not so? Monsieur l'Abbe would join them in a few

minutes. In the mean time, anything that Monsignor Lelli might wish to

say, he, Baron d'Antin, would faithfully refer to the princess.

_Monsignore_ spoke French, of course? That was well, for Monsieur

d'Antin's Italian was not sufficiently fluent to embark upon a business

conversation. A cigarette? No? Well, if it was permitted, he would

smoke one himself, and he was all attention, if _monsignore_ would

proceed.

Don Agostino sat and watched the baron quietly. Monsieur d'Antin was

very suave--very polite, and nothing could be more conciliatory than his

attitude. It seemed, indeed, as though he were tacitly apologizing for

his sister's refusal to receive the _parroco_, and that he was only

anxious to do his best to remove all misunderstandings. Don Agostino

recognized the diplomatic manner, and, so to speak, took Baron d'Antin's

measure before he had uttered a dozen words.

"Doubtless, monsieur," he said, "you are aware of the object of my

visit. The importance of that object must be my excuse for seeking to

intrude myself upon Madame la Princesse. I regret that she is unable to

receive me, because it is to her and to Donna Bianca Acorari that I am,

as it were, accredited by the people of Montefiano. However, one cannot

question a lady's right to receive or to refuse to receive a visitor,

especially if that visitor comes on an unpleasant errand.

"Monsieur le Baron, I think there is no necessity to waste words, and

this is not the moment to discuss the rights and the wrongs of the

questions which are agitating the minds of the people here at

Montefiano. I have come to ask--nay, to implore the princess to

reconsider her refusal to receive the deputation suggested by the

peasants, and to allow me to tell the people that she and Donna Bianca

will listen to their representatives. The people are within their

rights, monsieur, and it is I, their priest, who tell you so. They have

been treated unjustly in the name of Casa Acorari, and they appeal to

the princess and to Donna Bianca Acorari for permission personally to

represent their grievances."

Monsieur d'Antin nodded gravely. "I quite understand your view of the

matter, Monsieur le Cure," he said. "It is natural that the sympathies

of a priest should be with his people; but you must remember that my

sister has to regard the question from a business, and not from the

sentimental, point of view. Her position obliges her to think, first of

all, of her step-daughter, Donna Bianca's, interests. Those in whom my

sister confides to advise her in business matters connected with the

Montefiano property, do not share your view as to any injustice having

been committed."

"Because, monsieur," returned Don Agostino, bluntly, "Madame la

Princesse confides in individuals who are ignorant as to the condition

in which the people live, and who are, therefore, incompetent to advise

her--"

At this moment the door opened, and the Abbe Roux entered the room. The

greeting between him and Monsignor Lelli, if courteous, was certainly

not cordial. It was some years since they had last beheld each other,

but no allusion was made by either to their past acquaintance.

Monsieur d'Antin looked quickly at the abbe as he came into the room,

and Don Agostino fancied that, as he returned the glance, the Abbe Roux

shook his head almost imperceptibly.

"Monsignor Lelli," Monsieur d'Antin observed airily, "has come this

afternoon as an ambassador from--what shall we call them, Monsieur

l'Abbe--the rebels, eh? He wishes my sister to reconsider her refusal

to receive their deputation."

"It would seem scarcely necessary for madame to do so," said the abbe,

coldly. "Monsignor Lelli," he continued, "has apparently taken upon

himself the functions of the deputation."

"Precisely, monsieur," observed Don Agostino, tranquilly. "It seemed to

me not impossible that the princess and Donna Bianca Acorari might

listen to my representations as _parroco_ of Montefiano, even though the

reception of a deputation might not be permitted by their advisers."

The Abbe Roux frowned angrily.

"Permitted, monsieur!" he repeated. "I do not understand you. The

princess stands in no need of permission to act as she thinks fit and as

may be advantageous to Donna Bianca's future interests. Nor do I

understand why you assume Donna Bianca Acorari to have any voice in what

the princess may choose to do as her guardian. You must surely be well

aware that, until she is of age, Donna Bianca has absolutely nothing to

say in the management of her properties. It is, therefore, absurd to

drag her name into any question arising in connection with that

management."

Don Agostino looked at him steadily. "I am aware that Donna Bianca does

not enter into the full possession of her estates until she is of

age--or until she marries," he said. "Nevertheless, the fact does not

prevent her from being regarded by the people in and round Montefiano as

their mistress--as the only child of and successor to the late Prince of

Montefiano. And the people will insist on regarding her as such, and

upon being permitted access to her.

"It is not for me, Monsieur l'Abbe, to discuss what may be your motives

for advising the princess to pursue a course which is not only unjust to

the people, but injurious to her step-daughter's true interests. I have

come here this afternoon to warn the princess that the people intend to

insist upon being heard, not by her only, but by Donna Bianca Acorari.

They are loyal to Donna Bianca--but--you must pardon me for my plain

speaking--they look upon the princess as a foreigner who allows foreign

influence to interfere between them and their lawful _padrona_. At any

moment, Monsieur l'Abbe, unless you advise the princess to adopt a more

conciliatory course, you may hear this from the people themselves. They

will tell it you more roughly than I have told it you."

The Abbe Roux laughed disagreeably. "You are very disinterested,

_monsignore_," he remarked, "but I regret that I cannot accept your

views upon business matters--and this affair of the peasants is purely a

business--a financial--matter. You may very possibly be mistaken in

your judgment, _monsignore_. It would not be the first time, I think,

that you were mistaken in your estimate of sound finance. No, Madame la

Princesse will not, I imagine, be disposed to accept your advice on such

matters."

The sneer and the insinuation contained in the abbe's words were patent

enough, and for a moment Don Agostino reddened with anger. He

restrained himself with an effort, however. It was very evident that

the Abbe Roux was losing his temper; and time, valuable time, was

passing.

Don Agostino shrugged his shoulders, and then, turning his back upon the

abbe, he addressed Monsieur d'Antin, whose face he had noticed with some

surprise had worn a sudden but unmistakable look of disgust and contempt

while the Abbe Roux was speaking.

"Monsieur le Baron," he said, quietly, "I appeal to you as to one who is

not a professional man of business in the employ of Madame la Princesse,

but who is her brother, and who may therefore not be altogether

influenced by pecuniary considerations. I entreat you to take my

warning to the princess, and to persuade her to allow me to return,

while there is yet time, to the people, with the news that I have spoken

with her and with Donna Bianca, and that she is prepared to make some

concessions. I entreat you, also, to recall, in her name, the

application which has been made for military aid--"

The abbe and Monsieur d'Antin both started. "How, monsieur?" exclaimed

the abbe. "Military aid! What folly is this? Who talks of military

aid having been applied for?"

Don Agostino drew Silvio's _Tribuna_ from his _soutane_ and gave it to

Monsieur d'Antin.

"If it has not been actually applied for," he said, pointing to the

telegram from Montefiano, "its requisition is threatened. That

newspaper arrives in Montefiano every afternoon from Rome," he added,

"and by this time the telegram will have been read by everybody in the

_paese_."

The Abbe Roux muttered something very like an oath under his breath.

Then he looked furtively, almost apologetically, at Don Agostino.

"Absurd!" he exclaimed. "A mere canard! Probably some occasional

correspondent to the _Tribuna_, in Montefiano thought he would be very

clever and anticipate events."

Don Agostino looked at him narrowly. It was clear that, whoever had

sent the telegram to the _Tribuna_, the abbe was disagreeably surprised

by its publication. He looked, indeed, both taken aback and ill at

ease. Don Agostino, always watching him, saw him take out his watch and

look at it, glancing at Monsieur d'Antin as he did so.

"_Enfin_, monsieur," said Don Agostino, again addressing Monsieur

d'Antin, "once more I appeal to you as the brother of Madame la

Princesse. Am I to go back to the people and tell them that I have

obtained nothing, and that I have not been permitted to see either the

princess or Donna Bianca? Monsieur," he added, earnestly, "let me beg

of you to consider. So little is demanded of the princess--so much

bitterness and misery will be the result of not giving way. At least

send a telegram to countermand any despatch of troops to Montefiano, and

authorize me to tell the people that the telegram in the _Tribuna_ was

communicated without there being any foundation for it."

Monsieur d'Antin rose from the arm-chair in which he had been smoking

cigarettes unremittingly.

"One moment, my dear monsieur," he said to Don Agostino; "believe me, if

the matter rested with me, you should go back to your peasants with

hands full of concessions. But I have no influence with my sister in

these matters. I do not think she understands them; that is true. But

unfortunately she knows that I understand them even less than she does.

After all, it is natural. We are not Italians, as you pointed out to

Monsieur l'Abbe just now."

"It is not necessary to be Italian, monsieur, in order to understand

when injustices are being committed. A little common sympathy and a

little common-sense are all that is required in this instance; and these

qualities are not the exclusive attribute of my compatriots," said Don

Agostino, dryly.

The Abbe Roux came forward and placed himself between Don Agostino and

Monsieur d'Antin.

"Monsieur le Baron," he said, casting an angry glance at Don Agostino,

"it seems to me that we are wasting time. Monsignor Lelli has come here,

apparently, with the object of attempting to induce the princess to give

way to the insolent demands of these ignorant peasants, and to dictate

to her what she should and should not do. Well, I, Monsieur le Baron,

as you well know, am honored by the princess's confidence; and, as you

also know, I am deputed by her excellency to give Monsignor Lelli her

final and definite answer to his representations on behalf of the

peasants and their friends."

Don Agostino interrupted him.

"How did the princess know that I was coming here to-day on behalf of

the peasants?" he asked, abruptly.

The Abbe Roux looked suddenly perplexed; and Monsieur d'Antin joined the

tips of his fingers together and laughed softly to himself. Don

Agostino glanced at him keenly. Baron d'Antin's manner puzzled him. It

was the manner that an amused spectator of a comedy might display, but

it was certainly not fitting to one of the characters on the stage.

The abbe scowled. "_Parbleu!_" he exclaimed, roughly, "we are not all

imbeciles here; and we are better informed as to what has been going on

than Monsignor Lelli is aware! We know, for instance, that he did not

hesitate to compromise his position as _parroco_ by encouraging with his

presence a meeting held this morning in a _caffe_ by the leaders of this

agitation, and that he took upon himself the responsibility of being

their spokesman. Ah, yes, _monsignore_, the princess expected your

visit this afternoon; but, as you see, she altogether declines to

receive you in person."

Don Agostino turned to him with quiet dignity.

"So be it, Monsieur l'Abbe," he said, tranquilly. "The princess must

take the responsibility of declining to receive me in person, and to

allow me access to Donna Bianca Acorari. Nevertheless, I am here as the

representative of Donna Bianca's people, and I will discharge my duty.

I shall say, boldly--"

"To the princess and Donna Bianca? No, _monsignore_, you will not have

the opportunity. It would be well that you should understand this

finally."

"No, not to the princess and Donna Bianca, but to you!" continued Don

Agostino. "You tell me that you are honored with the princess's entire

confidence. I hope that she equally enjoys your own, Monsieur l'Abbe.

If so, you will repeat to her what I say. As you are aware that I

attended the meeting held this morning in the principal _caffe_ of

Montefiano, you are, no doubt, also aware of the attitude of the people

towards the princess, towards Monsieur le Baron d'Antin, and towards

yourself. You no doubt know that they regard you, Monsieur l'Abbe Roux,

as a foreigner who has abused the confidence the princess has had in you

as a priest, in order by degrees to fill your own pockets out of Donna

Bianca Acorari's possessions and at the expense of the people. You

doubtless know that they accuse you of being the real lessee of the

rents paid by the tenants on this estate, and believe that the recent

raising of those rents and the dismissal of the _fattore_ Fontana, for

having protested against any increase in the rent, was due to you. You

will have heard, also, that you are credited with having devised a

scheme whereby Donna Bianca Acorari is to marry Monsieur le Baron

d'Antin in order to keep her patrimony in the family--so to speak--and

enable you to continue to administer the properties for some years to

come. Of course, Monsieur l'Abbe, you know all this, since you are well

informed of what is being said and done in Montefiano."

The Abbe Roux's face while Don Agostino was speaking presented a study

in some of the various feelings capable of being reflected on the human

countenance. Anger, mortification, dismay--all these displayed

themselves in turn as he listened to Don Agostino's words, each one of

which was delivered with a calm incisiveness which added to the force of

his speech.

"_Monsignore!_" he exclaimed, furiously. "Are you aware of what you are

saying? Monsieur le Baron," he added, turning to Monsieur d'Antin,

"this is an insult--not to me only, but to the princess and to

yourself--"

Monsieur d'Antin looked from one to the other curiously, almost as if he

enjoyed the situation.

"I think not, Monsieur l'Abbe," he said, with a little smile, and

rubbing his white hands gently together. "I think not, my dear friend.

Monsignor Lelli is merely stating the opinion that others hold

concerning you--or concerning us, perhaps I should say. He does not, I

am convinced, mean us to suppose that he shares this opinion."

Don Agostino was silent.

"In any case," continued Monsieur d'Antin, with a slight shrug of the

shoulders as the silence became markedly prolonged, "it is not worth

your while to be angry, my dear abbe, for Monsignor Lelli might regard

your anger as a proof that the peasants at Montefiano are a very shrewd

race--ha, ha, ha!" and he broke into a gentle laugh which sounded

genuine enough, but certainly did not tend to allay the abbe's fury.

"No," he continued. "Let us remain calm, I beg of you, and let us hear

what else Monsignor Lelli has to tell us from these admirable peasants."

"I have little else to add to what I have already said," observed Don

Agostino, "and I make no apologies for the words I have used. They are

plain words, and even the Abbe Roux will not, I think, misunderstand

them. As to my own opinion--well, I agree with you, Monsieur le Baron,

that the people of Montefiano are shrewd, and I believe their

accusations to be just."

The Abbe Roux made a step forward, and, purple with rage, shook his

clinched fist in Don Agostino's face.

"And you," he exclaimed, "you, whom the Holy Father sent to minister to

these pigs of peasants in order to avoid the scandal of proceeding

against you for fraudulent speculation with money intrusted to you, you

dare to bring these accusations against me! Liar, hypocrite, pig--like

the peasants you represent!"

"My dear friend," remonstrated Monsieur d'Antin, laying his hand on the

abbe's arm, "let me implore you to be calm. Recollect that you and

Monsignor Lelli are priests--that you both wear the _soutane_. You

cannot demand satisfaction of each other in the usual way--you cannot

challenge each other to a duel. It would be--excessively funny," and

Monsieur d'Antin laughed again, in evident enjoyment of the idea.

"Besides," he continued, "Monsignor Lelli has, no doubt, more to tell

us. We have not yet heard what it is that the peasants require of my

sister."

"Monsieur," said Don Agostino, "I can answer for the peasants that, if

they are allowed to see and speak with Donna Bianca Acorari, they will

certainly not proceed to any excesses. They will probably return

quietly to their occupations."

"And you," interrupted the Abbe Roux, in a voice that was hoarse and

trembling with anger, "can take back to the peasants the princess's

answer which I am commissioned to give in her name. The answer is, that

they will not be permitted to see Donna Bianca Acorari, who has nothing

to say in the matter of the administration of these lands, or to

approach her with any story of their grievances. The princess,

_monsignore_, is perfectly well aware of all that underlies this

agitation, and that it is directed chiefly against myself. She will not

be intimidated into recalling Giuseppe Fontana, or into lowering the

rents. She--"

He stopped abruptly. A confused sound of voices came from the gallery

outside, and a moment afterwards the door was flung hastily open and the

old _maggior-domo_ burst into the room, followed by several of the

servants, who stood in a frightened group on the threshold.

"The _contadini_!" he exclaimed. "There is a crowd of three hundred or

more outside the entrance-gates, and they declare that if the gates are

not opened, they will break them down, Signor Abate! Ah, _Madonna mia_!

It is a _repubblica_--a revolution--listen!" and rushing across the

gallery, he threw open one of the windows looking into the court-yard.

The thick walls of the castle had effectually prevented any sound from

penetrating to the apartments on the other side of the gallery, all of

which were situated in the portion of the building added to the

mediaeval fortress by Cardinal Acorari, and overlooked the terrace and

open country beneath it. From the gallery, however, the angry roar of

an excited mob could distinctly be heard; and, when the windows were

opened by the old _maggior-domo_, shouts of "Down with the foreigners!

Long live the Principessina Bianca!" became plainly audible.

Don Agostino looked at the abbe and Monsieur d'Antin. "You see,

monsieur," he said, quietly, to the latter, "I did not exaggerate

matters. But even now it is not too late. If the princess and Donna

Bianca will show themselves to the peasants, and allow me to address the

people in their name, I am confident that order will quickly be

restored. Hark!" he added. "They are attempting to break open the

gates." And even as he spoke, the noise of heavy blows falling on

wood-work re-echoed through the court-yard.

Monsieur d'Antin, to do him justice, appeared to be far more composed

than the Abbe Roux. He listened for a moment or two almost impassively

to the shouts and the uproar which were growing ever louder and more

violent. The abbe, on the contrary, was trembling with an excitement

that might have proceeded either from fear or from rage, and probably,

as Don Agostino thought, from both. He had his watch in his hand, and

looked at it repeatedly, as though counting every minute that passed.

Don Agostino noticed his action, and as he did so a sudden suspicion

dawned upon him.

Monsieur d'Antin drew the abbe aside, and spoke with him for a minute or

so in an undertone. The Abbe Roux, it was evident, dissented

energetically from his remarks, and finally, with a shrug of the

shoulders, Monsieur d'Antin left him and advanced to Don Agostino.

"Monsieur le Cure," he said, "as I have already told you, my sister does

not take advice from me as to the management of her affairs, and I

frankly confess to you that I do not understand the situation

sufficiently to make interference on my part warrantable. The Abbe Roux

is my sister's adviser in all that concerns her affairs. I must refer

you to him."

Monsieur d'Antin approached the window again; and then, taking his

cigarette-case from his pocket, he proceeded to light a cigarette with

quiet deliberation. Don Agostino glanced at him almost with approval.

At any rate, he reflected, Baron d'Antin, whatever else he might be, was

no coward, and knew how to _se tirer d'affaires_ like a gentleman.

"Yes," exclaimed the Abbe Roux, "you, Monsieur le Cure, have to refer to

me in this matter. And I tell you again that it is useless that you and

the _canaille_ attempt to intimidate the princess--absolutely useless.

What did I say to you a few minutes ago? We are not imbeciles

here--certainly not imbeciles, monsieur; as you and your friends outside

will find out--if they dare to continue this violence much longer. No;

go to these insolent peasants, and tell them that your mission has

failed."

Don Agostino looked the abbe steadily in the face for a moment, and

then, without a word, turned his back upon him for the second time that

afternoon.

"Monsieur le Baron," he said, coldly, "it would be well that you should

inform the princess what is taking place, and you will doubtless know

how to prevent her and Donna Bianca Acorari from being unduly alarmed.

I have done my office here, and it is not my fault if I have failed. My

place now is with my people."

Don Agostino was about to pass Monsieur d'Antin with a formal bow, when

the latter suddenly held out his hand.

"_Monsignore_," he said, "you came as a peacemaker; and, believe me, I

regret that you do not take away with you terms of peace. I regret it,

I repeat, and I am not responsible for what has occurred, or for what

may occur."

Don Agostino scarcely heard him. He hurried down the gallery and across

the entrance-hall, followed by two trembling domestics, who unbarred the

doors opening on to the court-yard.

By this time the fury of the crowd at finding itself prevented from

entering the castle had passed all bounds of control. Blow after blow

rained upon the wooden gates leading into the court; and suddenly, while

Don Agostino was in the act of crossing the court-yard, the gates burst

open with a crash, having given way before the impetus of a mad rush

from the mob without.

For a moment the peasants stood undecided--surprised, perhaps, at the

sudden yielding of the gates.

Don Agostino, seeing their indecision, advanced towards them.

"My friends--" he began.

A great shout drowned his voice.

"_Traditore! Vigliacco d'un prete!_"

Then a stone struck him, and, with a hoarse roar like that of an angry

beast, the crowd surged into the court-yard.

*XXXII*

The stone hurled at Don Agostino had fortunately only hit him on the

body, for, owing to the violence with which it had been thrown, it

certainly would have stunned him had it struck him on the head. As it

was, however, the folds of his _soutane_ somewhat broke the force of the

blow. Don Agostino was scarcely conscious that he had been struck, so

great was his amazement at the savage reception he had met with at the

hands of his parishioners. Looking round on the angry faces and

threatening gestures of the mob of peasants in front of him, Don

Agostino speedily realized that neither Sor Stefano nor any of the more

prominent supporters of the peasantry were among those who had forced

their way into the court-yard. A feeling of anger and indignation took

possession of him as he noted the fact. It was the usual thing, he

thought bitterly--the invariable system of the incitement of the poor

and the ignorant to do the dirty work by those who would instantly

desert them in the hour of danger.

Disgust at what he believed to be treachery on the part of those who had

been mainly instrumental in instigating the peasants to their present

action quickly took the place of the surprise and indignation that Don

Agostino had felt at the way in which the people had suddenly turned

against him.

Without hesitation, and with a demeanor as calm and composed as though

he were mounting the steps of his pulpit, he ascended the double stone

staircase leading from the court-yard to the doors from which he had

issued only a minute or two previously. The doors were shut and bolted

now. The servants had fled precipitately at the sight of the

entrance-gates giving way before the assault of the mob, and Don

Agostino found himself alone with an angry and menacing crowd

confronting him, and behind him the great Renaissance palace of Cardinal

Acorari, with its portal barred, and the wooden shutters outside the

windows on the _piano nobile_ already closed by its inmates. He stopped

at the top of the first flight of steps; and, advancing to the stone

balustrade, looked down on the peasants below him.

They were still crowded together round the entrance-gates, and seemed as

though uncertain what their next move should be. Possibly, too, they

were taken aback at finding themselves within a deserted court-yard,

with closed windows all round them, and nothing but the solitary black

figure of Don Agostino standing in front of the entrance to that portion

of the castle inhabited by the princess and Bianca Acorari.

Drawing himself up to his full height, Don Agostino made a gesture as

though to wave back a group of peasants who, detaching themselves from

the rest, were approaching the flight of steps on which he stood--a

gesture that was almost imperious.

"You have broken your word to me," he cried; "you, and those who have

sent you here and are afraid to come themselves! You promised that you

would make no move until I returned from the castle--" Shouts of

"_Abbasso il pretaccio_! Liar--traitor!" interrupted and drowned his

words.

Don Agostino's eyes flashed with anger.

"Silence!" he exclaimed. "And if there is a man among you, let him

stand out and tell me what you mean--what you accuse me of. Choose your

spokesman. I am waiting to hear what he has to say." He folded his

arms and leaned against the balustrade almost indifferently. His

demeanor was not lost on the crowd, composed of peasants though it was.

Its members fell to talking excitedly among themselves, and presently

one of the younger men came forward. Don Agostino recognized him as the

speaker at the Caffe Garibaldi that morning, who had advocated no delay

in going to the castle and insisting on seeing Donna Bianca Acorari in

person.

"You ask us what it is we accuse you of!" he exclaimed, in a threatening

voice. "_Porca Madonna_!"

"There is no necessity to be blasphemous," interrupted Don Agostino,

sternly.

"If it had not been for your promises, and because we believed that you

would not deceive us, we should have been here this morning. You

persuaded us to delay, because all the time you knew that the soldiers

had been sent for."

"I did not know it," said Don Agostino, in a voice that rang through the

court-yard. "I swear that I did not know it until I read the telegram

in the paper that you have probably all seen. Even now I do not know

that the report is true. In the castle they deny that there has ever

been any idea of sending for troops, and, still more, that they have

been actually sent for. You accuse me of having deceived you. I tell

you that until a few minutes ago I have been doing my best to persuade

the princess to give you a hearing. But other counsels have prevailed,

and I have not succeeded in seeing either her or the Principessina Donna

Bianca. No--I have deceived you in nothing, but you have been deceived

all the same. You have been deceived by those who have encouraged you

to come here and commit acts of violence, but who have, nevertheless,

taken good care not to compromise themselves. Now, my friends, I have

answered your accusations. What further reasons have you to give for

turning against me, who have never done anything to deserve your want of

confidence?"

Cries of "_E vero! E vero!_" greeted Don Agostino's words, and a few

shouts of "_Evviva il parroco!_" were raised from the back of the crowd.

Don Agostino slowly descended the steps, and advanced towards the

foremost group of peasants.

"Listen to me, _ragazzi miei_," he said. "Be wise and go back to the

_paese_, quietly. I told you this morning that you would obtain nothing

by violence, and I tell it you again. There are other means--better

means--of obtaining your rights than by committing wrongs. Have I ever

deceived you? I think not. Did I deceive _you_, Angelo Frassi, when

you were nearly crippled for life, and I sent you to the hospital in

Rome, and you came back cured? Or _you_, Pietro Santucci, when your

mother was dying, and you had not money left in the house to buy a piece

of meat to make her a cup of broth? _Via, figli miei_, you have called

me some hard names, but I think, all the same, that you will trust me

for a little yet."

Don Agostino paused, and an outburst of cheering came from his audience.

The peasants he had named, who were among the most threatening of the

younger men among the mob, shrunk back shamefaced and abashed. The

_parroco's_ appeal was true, and they knew it to be so. There were few

in the crowd, moreover, who, in some way or another, had not experienced

Don Agostino's sympathy and generosity.

Almost mechanically they made way for him to pass between their ranks,

and followed him over the debris of the broken gates out on to the

square-paved piazza, in front of the walls and round battlemented towers

flanking the main entrance to the castle.

Don Agostino had just breathed a sigh of relief at the effects of his

appeal, when a band of some fifty or sixty men, accompanied by as many

women and children, rushed into the piazza out of the steep road leading

up to the castle from the town.

"The troops!" they shouted. "The troops! They are entering the town

now. In a few minutes they will be here!"

A howl of rage answered them from the mob of peasants behind and around

Don Agostino.

"_Traditore--traditore! porco d'un prete_! It was for this you were

waiting--deceiving us with your lies till you knew the soldiers would be

here! Ah, _vigliacco_!"

A rush was made at him by those nearest, and Don Agostino had just time

to defend himself from a blow dealt with the handle of a broken spade,

the end of which was still covered by the rusty iron ferrule. His

suspicions were verified now. The Abbe Roux had lied to him, and when

Don Agostino had seen him glancing every now and again at his watch, he

had been calculating how many minutes might elapse before the appearance

of the troops he had caused to be summoned. It had been the knowledge

that these troops were in the vicinity that had doubtless given the abbe

courage to refuse to listen to any representations, even from Monsieur

d'Antin, as to the advisability of treating with the peasants.

It had been the suspicion--nay, almost the certainty, that the Abbe Roux

was lying, and that troops had already been requisitioned, which had

made Don Agostino determined if possible to persuade the peasants to

leave the court-yard of the castle. If the troops should arrive when

the mob was within the walls, the peasants would be caught, as it were,

in a trap, and any additional act of violence on their part, or error of

judgment on the part of the officers of the _pubblica sicurezza_, who,

in accordance with the law, would have to accompany the officer

commanding and call upon him to order the soldiers to charge or fire on

the crowd, might lead to appalling results.

It had been of the safety of his people that Don Agostino had been

thinking, far more than of his own safety, and even now, with the angry

mob shouting execrations and threats upon him for his treachery, he

reproached himself bitterly for having played into the Abbe Roux's

hands, by delaying his exit from the castle until the peasants had

already commenced their assault.

He had little time to think of this now, however. It was in vain that

he attempted for a moment to make his voice heard above the din. The

mob was too angry now, too certain that it had been deceived, to listen

to him a second time, and Don Agostino knew it.

He turned and faced the crowd in silence, and the thought of the irony

of his situation brought a fleeting smile to his lips. How could the

peasants know that he sympathized with them--that it was not he who had

deceived them, but that he himself had been deceived?

"_Morte--morte al pretaccio! Morte all 'assassino!_"

Well, death must come some time; and, at any rate, he had tried to do

his duty. Death, perhaps, would come to him as it had done to his

Master, at the hands of those who knew not what they did.

"_Morte--morte al traditore!_"

A heavy blow struck from behind him fell upon his head, causing him to

reel and totter back. Don Agostino shut his eyes, and his lips moved

silently. Surely, death was very near now. Surely--

Suddenly another voice sounded in his ears. His name was shouted out

loudly; yes, but in very different accents from those of the peasants

now closing round him.

Don Agostino opened his eyes in time to see two men with raised

reaping-hooks, who were apparently about to strike him a more deadly

blow than the rest, hurled right and left, and the next moment Silvio

Rossano stood by his side.

"Stand back!" Silvio shouted. "Back, I say, or by God, I will blow the

brains out of the first man who comes within a metre of Don Agostino!"

and as he spoke he covered the nearest peasant with a revolver.

"_Coraggio_, Don Agostino!" he said, quickly, "you are not hurt--no? In

a minute or two the troops will be here. Ah, I could stay no longer. I

knew the mob had gone to the castle, and that you were still there. And

then, on my way here, I met Fontana and his daughter, and they told me

the peasants had turned against you. When I heard that I ran as hard as

I could--and here I am!"

Don Agostino felt sick and dizzy from the blow he had received. "You

are just in time, Silvio _mio_," he said. "Another minute, and who knows

whether you would have found me alive? Oh, but it is not their fault,

the poor people--they think that I knew the troops had been sent for,

and that I meant to deceive them."

The peasants, who had fallen back at Silvio's unexpected appearance and

at the sight of his revolver, now began to crowd round Don Agostino

again, and once more cries of "_Morte al pretaccio!_" were raised,

coupled with threats against Silvio and curses at his interference.

Suddenly a woman's voice rose above the uproar. "Fools!--idiots! Are

you trying to murder your best friend, Don Agostino? And that

other---do you know who he is? He is the _fidanzato_ of the

Principessina Bianca!"

The voice was Concetta Fontana's. Accompanied by her father and Sor

Stefano, she forced her way through the crowd to where Don Agostino and

Silvio were standing.

"Yes," roared out Sor Beppe, "my daughter is right--and you--you are

pigs and beasts, and it is I who say it! Don Agostino knew no more than

I did that the soldiers had been summoned. _Evviva il fidanzato della

principessina!_"

The effect of Sor Beppe's intervention was instantaneous, and the mob

took up his cry, while Concetta, after whispering a few words in her

father's ear, disappeared within the gateway of the castle.

Suddenly a cry arose from the end of the piazza. "The troops--the

troops!"

The leaders of the peasants shouted to the rest to follow them. "Back

to the castle!" they cried. "The soldiers shall find us there!" and the

crowd surged again through the broken-down gates into the court-yard.

"For the love of God, come!" exclaimed Don Agostino to his companions.

"We must put ourselves between them and the soldiers, or who knows what

may happen? You, Signor Mazza, speak to the peasants--they will listen

to you." Accompanied by Silvio, Fontana, and Sor Stefano, Don Agostino

hurried to the gateway and entered the court-yard. Already the mob had

swarmed up the staircase at the opposite end of the court, and the

foremost were attempting to break in the great double doors in the

centre of the _piano nobile_.

They were scarcely inside the court, when the quick tramp of armed men

was heard in the piazza; a sharp word of command re-echoed through the

gateway, and then a long metallic rattle of steel, as a company of

grenadiers and a detachment of infantry fixed bayonets. A moment

afterwards the _granatieri_ marched through the gateway, the officer in

command of them being accompanied by a delegate of public safety wearing

the tricolor scarf.

The delegate stepped forward, and in the name of the law called upon the

rioters to desist. A shout of defiance answered his words. "We go to

see our _padrona! Evviva la principessina, abbasso gli stranieri!_" and

a volley of blows resounded on the doors at the top of the double flight

of steps.

At this moment the outside shutters of a window in the gallery were

thrown open, and the Abbe Roux appeared at it.

"Signor Delegate," he cried, "in the name of the Principessa di

Montefiano, I call upon you to protect the inhabitants of this castle

from the assault of a disorderly mob. Those men," he added, pointing to

Don Agostino and his companions, "are the ringleaders--they are

responsible for this agitation."

A howl of execration from the mob followed the Abbe Roux's speech, and

sticks and stones were hurled at the window at which he was standing.

The delegate looked from the abbe to Don Agostino and Silvio Rossano,

who was standing by his side, in some perplexity.

"Your names, _signori_," he said, curtly.

"Agostino Lelli, _parroco_ of Montefiano."

"Silvio Rossano, son of the Senator Rossano."

"_Evviva! Evviva il fidanzato della nostra principessina!_" shouted the

crowd.

The official looked up to the window again.

"There is surely some mistake--" he began.

"I tell you, Signor Delegate, that there is no mistake," shouted the

Abbe Roux. "Is this a time to waste words, when in a moment the mob

will be inside the castle?"

The delegate shrugged his shoulders. Then he turned to Don Agostino and

Silvio. "Signori," he said, courteously, "I must ask you to consider

yourselves under arrest pending further inquiries. Have the kindness to

place yourselves behind the troops!"

The peasants began to leave the staircase and flock into the body of the

court-yard.

"_Morte al prele straniero!_" they shouted. "We will have no arrests!"

The delegate made a sign to the officer in command of the grenadiers,

and immediately the three bugle-calls which the law ordains shall

precede any action on the part of troops against the public resounded

through the court-yard.

Moved partly by rage and partly by fear, the peasants made another rush

towards the staircase. The delegate called upon the officer in command

to order his men to charge. The captain hesitated.

"Signor Delegate," he said, "a little patience; it maybe that my men may

be saved from having to perform a disagreeable duty."

Don Agostino went up to him. "You are right, Signor Capitano. For

God's sake, let us have patience! Let me see if I can make them hear

reason--ah!"

"_Cristo!_" swore the officer, drawing in his breath sharply.

A sudden silence had fallen on the mob, and those who were half-way up

the stone staircase paused and stood still.

Then, Sor Stefano's voice rang out:

"_Ecco la principessina! Evviva la nostra padrona!_"

A great shout answered him. The doors at the top of the staircase had

opened, and in the centre of them stood Bianca Acorari. She remained

for a moment or two looking steadily down on the astonished crowd of

peasants and the double line of _granatieri_ drawn up at the back of the

court-yard. Then, raising her head proudly, she moved forward and

rested her hands on the stone balustrade. It was perhaps no wonder that

a silence had fallen on the crowd; that the captain of _granatieri_ had

sworn, and that one of his men had let his musket fall with a clatter to

the ground. The sudden appearance of a young girl, simply dressed in

white, with the light falling on her tawny gold hair, and her creamy

complexion flushed with a glow of excitement, her every movement full of

high-bred grace and dignity, among a mob of angry peasants, formed a

picture that certainly could not be seen every day.

"They tell me that you want to see me--to speak with me. Well, I am

here to speak with you. I am Bianca Acorari."

The low, clear voice could be heard all over the court-yard. There was

no tremor of fear, no trace of excitement, even, in its tones. For a

few moments soldiers and peasants gazed, as though spellbound, at the

girlish figure standing alone upon the steps against the background

formed by the columns and heavy mouldings of the portico. Then the

silence which succeeded her appearance was broken; and when she ceased

speaking, the peasants greeted her with an outburst of cheering, in

which--did discipline permit--the soldiers looked as though they would

willingly join.

If the delegate representing the law had been perplexed before, he was

fairly bewildered now at the turn events had taken. The message

received that morning from the _sindaco_ of Montefiano had been urgent,

and the instant despatch of an armed force had been requested by that

official for the purpose both of maintaining public order and of

protecting the Princess Montefiano and Donna Bianca Acorari from

violence at the hands of their unruly tenants.

The _delegato_, indeed, was about to demand an explanation from the

_avvocato_ Ricci, who had waited for the arrival of the troops before

venturing to show himself among the mob in his official capacity as

_syndic_, when the Abbe Roux, livid with rage and excitement, rushed

from the doorway down the steps to where Bianca was standing.

"Signor Delegato," he cried, "once more I request that the castle be

cleared of these rioters. In the name of her excellency, the

princess--" A woman's voice interrupted him.

"_Eccolo--Ecco l'Abate! Fuori gli stranieri!_"

A cry of execration rose from the crowd, and in an instant its passions

were kindled afresh. A sudden rush was made for the staircase, but the

captain in command of the _granatieri_ had watched his opportunity, and

by a rapid movement his men had placed themselves between the mob and

its base. At the same time a detachment of the infantry left outside

the court-yard filed through the gateway and occupied the space in the

rear of the mob.

The peasants, as Don Agostino had foreseen would probably be the case

were they to be surprised in the court-yard by the troops, were trapped;

and it was the discovery that they were so which redoubled their fury

against the foreign priest. Uttering a volley of curses and

blasphemies, a group of the younger men attempted to force their way to

the staircase. For the second time the bugle sounded the three warning

blasts. At that instant both Silvio and Don Agostino hurled themselves

against the foremost of the peasants who were struggling to break

through the ranks of the _granatieri_. They tried to force them back,

imploring them at the same time not to oblige the troops to use their

weapons.

The delegate misunderstood the action of the two men whom he had a few

minutes previously told to consider themselves as under arrest, and a

further furious appeal from the Abbe Roux did not help him to keep his

head or his temper. He turned angrily to the officer in command, and

ordered him to give the word to his men to charge the crowd.