"Yes--yes!" shouted the abbe. "Drive the _canaglia_ out of the

court-yard! Donna Bianca Acorari, Signor Delegate, has no business to

be here. She is a minor, and has no authority. She is being deceived

by certain adventurers who have incited the peasants to revolt. You,

Signor Capitano, give the order to charge, as the law requires you to

do."

The delegate stamped his foot angrily. "In the name of the law, charge

the crowd!" he shouted to the soldiers.

"No! I, Bianca Acorari, Principessina di Montefiano, forbid it! I will

not have the people--my people--touched."

The Abbe Roux attempted to restrain her; but, breaking away from him,

Bianca rushed down the steps. The soldiers mechanically made way for

her to pass between their ranks; and erect, defiant, she stood between

the troops and the excited mob confronting them.

The delegate, like the majority of the officials of Italian bureaucracy,

was extremely sensitive in any thing which touched his official dignity

or prerogative.

"_Signorina_," he exclaimed, "you will have the goodness to retire. We

are not here to play a comedy. Signor Capitano, order your men to

dislodge the mob from the court-yard."

Bianca turned to the officer, her eyes flashing with anger.

"_Signore_," she said, "your men are not assassins, and you--you will

not give that order! The people have come to see me--to speak with me.

Who has any right, excepting myself, to turn them away? That

priest"--and she pointed with a scornful gesture to the Abbe Roux

standing on the steps above--"has lied!"

The officer lowered the point of his sword.

"Signor Delegato," he said, "I protest. My men shall not charge."

"You are here to obey my orders," shouted the _delegato_, angrily. "I

shall report you to headquarters."

"I undertake the responsibility of disobeying your orders," returned the

officer, coldly. "My men shall not move. Signorina," he added, "you

need not be afraid. As you say, we are not assassins."

A murmur ran through the ranks of the _granatieri_. Every man's eyes

were fixed upon Bianca Acorari.

At this moment Sor Beppe forced his way through the struggling crowd and

approached Bianca.

"Excellenza," he said, quickly, "speak to the people. They will do what

you tell them--you will see."

In the mean time, neither Silvio nor Don Agostino had seen Bianca's

descent into the court-yard, so occupied had they been in reasoning and

almost fighting with the leaders of that faction of the peasants which

was in favor of trying to force a passage through the cordon of troops

in front of the staircase.

In a stentorian voice Fontana shouted out that the Principessina Bianca

wished to speak to the people, and Sor Stefano seconded his efforts to

obtain silence. Bianca moved slowly forward, until she was within a few

paces of her lover and Don Agostino.

"_Evviva la nostra principessina_! Speak, speak!" shouted those nearest

to her.

Bianca smiled. "I have little to say," she said, simply, "but I have

heard that things have been done in my name that are unjust things. You

have come here to tell my step-mother, the princess, this; is it not so?

Well, I shall tell her; and I, Bianca Acorari, promise you that there

shall be no increase in the rents, and that a faithful servant of Casa

Acorari, who has been dismissed because he would not consent to

injustice being done in my step-mother's and my name, shall be--no--is

recalled to his post," and she turned to Sor Beppe with a quiet smile.

A dead silence greeted her words. The peasants forgot to cheer her.

They could only look at her, open-mouthed and wonder-struck. Don

Agostino started forward and gazed at her almost wildly for a moment.

Then, staggering back, and placing his hands to his head, he seemed as

though he would have fallen to the ground had it not been for Silvio,

who supported him in his arms.

"Listen," Bianca continued, tranquilly, "for I do not wish you, the

people of Montefiano, to think what is not the truth. My step-mother is

not responsible for what has been done, any more than I am responsible.

She is good, and she would never have consented to anything which was

unjust. But she has been deceived--yes--deceived by that priest in whom

she trusted, who summoned the soldiers here, and who, as you have heard,

has called upon them to charge you with their bayonets."

An outburst of hisses and groans followed her last words, and once more

the crowd made a movement as though to force its way to the staircase.

The soldiers closed up, lowering their muskets with fixed bayonets to

the charge.

Silvio Rossano and Don Agostino, who by a supreme effort over himself

had regained his composure, sprang to Bianca's side. The color mounted

to her face as she looked at Silvio, and their eyes met. Then she

turned from him to the crowd that was swaying like the swell of the sea

before a coming storm.

"No!" she called out, imperatively. "There must be no more violence.

You say that you will do what I ask you--that you trust me? Well, I ask

you to go quietly to your homes, secure in having my word that the

injustices committed by the Abate Roux will be removed."

"She speaks well! _Evviva la Principessina Bianca!_" shouted the crowd.

"Yes--long live the Principessina Bianca, and long live her betrothed

husband, Signor Silvio Rossano! _Evviva_! _Evviva_!" cried Sor Beppe.

His words were taken up with an almost frenzied enthusiasm. It was

evident that the peasants had been waiting for some allusion to the

_principessina's_ own troubles, now that they had obtained their desire

and had heard from her lips that she disapproved of what had been done

in the princess's and her name. Concetta Fontana's reports had indeed

been cleverly circulated, with a view of securing to Bianca the sympathy

and support of the people. The women of the _paese_ had poured into the

ears of their husbands, brothers, and lovers such stories of the

_principessina's_ unhappiness at being forbidden to marry the man she

loved, and at the prospect of being sacrificed to the lust of an old man

and the dishonest schemes of the Abbe Roux, as had aroused local

indignation to the highest pitch. At the same time, Bianca's defence of

the princess and her decided refusal to allow her step-mother to be

blamed, had only coincided with the sentiments of the large majority of

her hearers. Public opinion in Montefiano had long ago exonerated the

princess from any other offence than that of being a foreigner who

allowed her own compatriots to interfere in the management of her

step-daughter's affairs.

The sight of Silvio Rossano standing by their young _padrona_, who had

shown them that she could fearlessly take the part of her people against

injustice, was all that had been needed to evoke an unmistakable

demonstration that, whatever the princess and her advisers might do, the

Montefianesi approved of Bianca's choice.

"_Evviva i fidanzati!_" rang from all parts of the court-yard, while

there were also not wanting premature shouts of "_Evviva gli sposi!_"

Bianca blushed scarlet. She stood for a moment hesitating and

uncertain, almost unnerved by the acclamations of the crowd of peasants

whose threatening attitude a few minutes before had only served to

kindle her spirit and rouse her courage. Then, shyly, she turned to

Silvio.

"Speak to them," she said, pushing him gently forward.

Silvio was about to obey her, when a sudden movement among the soldiers

at the foot of the staircase arrested the attention of the crowd. At a

word from their officer, the ranks of the _granatieri_ parted, and

Princess Montefiano approached her step-daughter. Monsieur d'Antin was

by her side, and the Abbe Roux followed immediately behind them.

Bianca rushed up to her step-mother. "Ah," she exclaimed, quickly, in a

low voice, "I am glad you have come! See, the people are quite quiet

now. There is no more danger. You must not blame me; I was told that

nothing would happen if I came and spoke to them, but that if I did not,

then they would be more angry than ever, and the troops would

charge--and then--" and she shuddered visibly.

The princess looked at her, and apparently was unable to summon her

words for a moment or two. That she was not suffering from fear was

evident, for she gazed at the crowd of peasants almost indifferently.

"You are angry," said Bianca. "I am sorry; but I did what I

thought--what I was told--was for the best. After all," she added,

"they are my father's people, and they wanted me. Surely it was better

to try to calm them than to allow a fight with the soldiers! Why should

you be angry if I have prevented that?"

"Hush, Bianca, hush!" exclaimed Princess Montefiano. "I am not angry.

You did right. I would have come before, but Monsieur l'Abbe Roux

persuaded me not to show myself, and until five minutes ago I believed

you were in your own room. I have seen and heard everything during the

last few minutes from the gallery, but I do not quite understand. Now I

have come to learn the truth. Monsignor Lelli," she continued, raising

her voice so as to be heard by the crowd, which was now dumb from wonder

and curiosity, "you came to see me this afternoon, and I was advised not

to receive you. Will you now say what you would have said had I not

listened to that advice?"

The Abbe Roux started forward, and was about to speak, but Princess

Montefiano waved him back.

"No, monsieur," she said, with dignity, "the people shall hear you

afterwards. _Monsignore_," she added, again addressing Don Agostino,

"will you have the kindness to explain to me your reasons for wishing to

see me this afternoon?"

Don Agostino bowed to her. "My object in asking you to see me,

principessa, was to communicate to you personally the requests which

would have been made by the deputation you declined to receive. I had,

it is true, another and even more pressing object. This was to interest

you to prevent the despatch of troops to Montefiano."

The princess did not reply for a moment. Then she said, slowly and

emphatically:

"The requests of the deputation which I was advised not to receive,

_monsignore_, have been answered by Donna Bianca Acorari. She has

promised that certain acts of injustice which have been committed in my

name and in hers shall be remedied, and I shall see that her promise is

duly carried into effect."

A murmur of applause interrupted her. Monsieur d'Antin, standing a

little apart, watched his sister critically.

"_Tiens!_" he said to himself, "Jeanne is a capable woman--more capable

than I imagined. She can rise to a situation. If she would only think

less of the next world and more of this, she would be more capable

still."

"As to the despatch of troops to Montefiano," the princess added, "until

five minutes ago I was in ignorance that any such step had been taken.

The requisition for military intervention was made without consulting me

and without my authority."

"_Evviva la principessina! Viva l'esercito!_" shouted the peasants.

"_Signori_," Princess Montefiano continued, addressing the delegate and

the officer in command of the _granatieri_, "perhaps you will be so good

as to tell me at whose request you are here?"

The delegate of public safety bustled forward, full of the consciousness

of his own importance and dignity.

"I am here at the request of the _sindaco_ of Montefiano," he replied,

"to enforce order and respect for the law in this commune."

The princess turned from him abruptly.

"Signor Commandante," she said to the military officer, "I thank you for

your discretion in refusing to allow the people to be attacked at the

bidding of a civilian. My brother has told me of your declining to

order your men to charge the crowd. You may be sure that your conduct

will be represented in its proper light to the authorities. In the mean

time, perhaps you will tell me who summoned you to Montefiano?"

The captain shrugged his shoulders. "Your _sindaco_, Signora

Principessa, telegraphed to the military authorities at Civitacastellana

for troops to be despatched at once. An official of the _pubblica

sicurezza_ accompanied me, according to the requirements of the law in

these circumstances, and the law places me at the Signor Delegate's

orders for the time being. Nevertheless, an officer is allowed to use a

certain discretion as to carrying out any orders that may in his opinion

be inopportune--and I merely exercised that discretion. I may add," he

continued, with a glance of admiration at Bianca, "that had it not been

for the timely arrival of Donna Bianca Acorari on the scene, and her

courage in facing the crowd at a very critical moment, I should probably

have been reluctantly compelled to order my men to clear the court-yard.

We soldiers do not like that kind of work, Signora Principessa; and both

I and my men are grateful to Donna Bianca for having spared us the

unpleasant duty of performing it."

Princess Montefiano looked round her.

"Where is the _sindaco_?" she asked.

A movement took place in the rear of the crowd, and presently the

_avvocato_ Ricci advanced into the open space.

"I understand, Signor Sindaco," the princess said, "that the troops are

here at your request. With the arrangements of the municipal

authorities regarding the town of Montefiano I have nothing to do. But

within the castle of Montefiano I am mistress. Why was I not informed

that troops had been sent for?"

Monsieur d'Antin rubbed his hands together. "Jeanne is superb," he said

to himself, "absolutely superb!"

The _sindaco_ looked petrified with astonishment.

"But," he stammered, "it was after consultation with the Signor Abate

that I made the official application for troops to be sent. The abate

assured me that he was acting in your _eccellenza's_ name. He declared

it to be your wish that troops should at once be despatched to protect

the castle."

"Monsieur l'Abbe," said the princess, quietly, "is this true?"

"Madame," replied the Abbe Roux, sullenly, "I have already explained

that if I did not inform you of the fact that I had applied for military

protection against a possible assault on the castle by the peasants, it

was because I did not wish unduly to alarm you and the inmates of the

castle. I believed that I had full authority to act as I might think

best in this as in other matters."

"You were mistaken, monsieur," the princess returned, coldly. "This

matter," she continued, "has been from the beginning misrepresented to

me. What proof have I that in other matters, also, I have not been

deceived?"

"Your excellency has been deceived all down the line!" shouted a voice

from the crowd. "It is I, Stefano Mazza, who say it!"

Princess Montefiano turned to Don Agostino.

"Stefano Mazza?" she repeated, inquiringly.

Sor Stefano came forward.

"Your excellency, perhaps, is not aware that the Abate Roux is the

lessee of the rents of the property belonging to Casa Acorari at

Montefiano," he said.

The princess started violently, and Monsieur d'Antin drew nearer to

where she was standing.

"What does this mean?" she exclaimed.

"It means, madame, that the man is a liar!" cried the abbe, hoarsely.

Sor Stefano laughed. "If her excellency desires it," he said, "I will

this evening put positive proofs into her hands that it is as I say.

_Sicuro!_ the _affittuario_ of these lands is nominally one Signor

Oreste Francavalli; is it not so, _eccellenza_? But the Signor Oreste

Francavalli is a poor devil of a bankrupt _mercante di campagna_, who

has not a lira left in the world, as I know to my cost, and the real

holder of the rents is at this moment the Abate Roux. It is not

surprising, _eccellenza_, that the _abate_ should have wished to

increase his profits."

*XXXIII*

Princess Montefiano seemed to be almost stunned by Sor Stefano's

assertion. Once or twice she tried to speak, but appeared to be unable

to collect her words.

The Abbe Roux turned furiously to Stefano Mazza. "It is a lie!" he

exclaimed. "You cannot prove your assertion. What have I to do with

this Oreste Francavalli?"

Sor Stefano laughed scornfully.

"_Mah!_" he returned. "It seems that you have a great deal to do with

him, Signor Abate. And I, too, have had a great deal to do with him, as

I shall be happy to prove to you from certain documents which I do not

carry about with me but which I can produce for her excellency's

inspection, should she care to see them. _Sicuro_! Francavalli is an

old acquaintance of mine--an old client, I may say. You are probably

unaware, Signor Abate, that I found myself reluctantly obliged to make

him a bankrupt. It was naturally, therefore, somewhat of a surprise to

me to learn that Signor Francavalli had become the new lessee of the

_latifondo_ of Montefiano. A man does not offer himself as

_affittuario_ of a large property unless he has some capital at his

back--or, if he does do so, his offer is not usually accepted by the

administration of that property. It was news to me--interesting

news--that Francavalli had capital; for he had certainly not discharged

all his liabilities to his creditors, of whom I am not the least

important. Do you understand, Signor Abate?"

"It is untrue," the abbe repeated. "Francavalli has never been a

bankrupt."

"Ah, no?" returned Stefano Mazza, dryly. "But I tell you that he is a

bankrupt--and I will tell you something more, Signor Abate. If

Francavalli were the real _affittuario_ of these lands, then he would be

a fraudulent bankrupt, for he would be in possession of capital and of

income which would belong to his creditors. But he is not the real

lessee of the lands belonging to Casa Acorari."

"And who says that he is not so?" asked the abbe.

Sor Stefano shrugged his shoulders. "He says so himself," he replied.

"Or, rather," he added, "I happen to possess a document signed by him,

declaring that he is merely the nominal lessee; that in consideration of

a sum of money advanced by you, Signor Abate, he allowed you to use his

name, but that the real lessee is yourself. Had it not been for

Francavalli's readiness to sign the said document, I should have been

compelled to proceed against him for fraud. _Sicuro!_ you have been

very cautious, Signor Abate, but not quite cautious enough. If you had

happened to consult me, I could have told you that in selecting the

Signor Oreste Francavalli as your confidant, you had made a bad choice;"

and Sor Stefano laughed dryly.

For a moment the Abbe Roux remained silent. He was evidently unable to

refute Sor Stefano's words, spoken as they were with the calm conviction

of a man who knew that he was in a position to substantiate them. Then

he turned to Princess Montefiano.

"Madame," he said, "it is true that, in a sense, I am the purchaser of

the right to take the rents of these lands; and also that, as I did not

wish to appear as the lessee, I arranged with Francavalli that the

affair should be carried out in his name. You are aware, madame, that a

larger annual sum is now paid by the lessee than has hitherto been the

case, and that the half-yearly payments of this sum have been punctually

made. This being so, I do not see that the fact of my being the real

lessee instead of Francavalli or another need concern anybody but

myself. You, Madame la Princesse, are better off in consequence of my

having taken over the lease; and when I told you that a friend of mine

was disposed to pay more for the lease of the rents than the lessee

whose tenure was just expiring, I only spoke the truth."

Princess Montefiano hesitated, and then turned to her brother with a

distressed look on her face. "It is true," she said, in a low voice.

"Monsieur l'Abbe advised me not to give the late _affittuario_ a renewal

of his term, promising me that he would find a more satisfactory lessee.

As he says, we have been better off since the change, and I do not

see--"

"_Eccellenza_," interrupted Sor Stefano, "there is more to say, and with

your permission, it had better be said now! The peasants are here not

only to obtain justice for themselves, but to support their _padrona_,

the Principessina Bianca--is it not so?" he added, turning towards the

crowd.

"Yes--yes! Long live the Principessina Bianca!" resounded from all

parts of the court-yard. Princess Montefiano bit her lip.

"What does he mean?" she asked, abruptly, of Don Agostino.

"_Evviva la principessina! Evviva! Abbasso gli stranieri! Evviva il

fidanzato della principessina!_"

The shouts were raised again and again, and among them were others, in

which Baron d'Antin was alluded to in terms neither delicate nor

complimentary.

The princess flushed with anger.

"_Monsignore_," she exclaimed, turning again to Don Agostino, "am I to

understand that you, the _parroco_ of Montefiano, encourage your people

to insult my brother and myself? I insist upon an explanation, but I

will not listen to it from peasants--"

"_Signora principessa_," said Don Agostino, quietly, "you are quite

right. Explanations are necessary, but not here--not in the presence of

the crowd. Let the Signor Delegato here dismiss the troops, and at a

word from you and from Donna Bianca Acorari, the people will disperse

quietly. Afterwards," he added, "I shall be entirely at your service to

give what explanations I can of the attitude of the peasants."

Princess Montefiano considered for a moment. "So be it, _monsignore_,"

she said, at length; and then, turning to the delegate, she added:

"_Signore_, as I observed a few minutes ago, I have no right to

interfere with the arrangements of the authorities outside these walls;

but inside the castle of Montefiano I am mistress, and I beg of you to

order the troops to retire. We, I and my step-daughter, have no need of

their protection. We are among our own people."

The officer hesitated and looked at Monsieur d'Antin, who had preserved

an imperturbable demeanor of good-humor even during the uncomplimentary

epithets cast at him by the crowd--epithets, indeed, that he had

scarcely understood so well as did the princess.

"My sister is right, _signore_," Monsieur d'Antin observed, tranquilly.

"If there are explanations to be made, it is scarcely necessary that the

whole population of Montefiano, a company of grenadiers and a detachment

of infantry should assist at them. That gentleman," he continued,

indicating Sor Stefano, "appears to have considerable authority with the

peasants. No doubt he will persuade them to leave the castle quietly,

now that they have received assurances that their grievances will be

removed."

Sor Stefano turned to the crowd. "Her excellency, the princess, has

requested the troops to retire," he said, in a loud voice. "Since she

and the _principessina_ are here at Montefiano they need no soldiers to

protect them. Therefore you will leave the castle quietly and go to

your own homes."

"We will go if the _principessina_ and her _fidanzato_ tell us to go!"

shouted a voice from among the group of younger men.

Princess Montefiano drew back suddenly, and her face flushed. For a

moment she seemed as if about to resent so obvious an affront to her

position and authority.

Monsieur d'Antin advanced towards her. "Jeanne," he said, in a low

voice, "I think you would be wise to allow Bianca to complete her office

of peacemaker. The peasants evidently are ready to listen to her, and

to do what she tells them. Is it not so, _monsignore_?" he added,

turning to Don Agostino.

Don Agostino glanced at him with some surprise, and the Abbe Roux's

countenance exhibited both astonishment and anger.

"You are quite right, monsieur," Don Agostino replied. "The people will

listen to Donna Bianca, and in these cases it is generally prudent to

seize every opportunity of bringing matters to a peaceful solution.

Moreover," he continued, "if I may presume to say so, the fact of Madame

la Princesse putting Donna Bianca forward will have an excellent

effect."

Princess Montefiano looked at him quickly. "You mean--" she began, and

then she paused, abruptly.

"Madame," Don Agostino said, returning her look and making a slight

gesture of apology, "I mean that your encouraging Donna Bianca Acorari

to take her rightful position before the people of Montefiano will

remove many misunderstandings and stop much idle gossip."

The princess gazed inquiringly at him for a moment, then she turned to

Bianca. "Speak to them, _figlia mia_," she said, quietly.

Bianca shook her head. "No," she replied; "now that you are here, it is

for you to speak to them. I came because I knew--"

"You knew what?" interrupted Princess Montefiano.

"Oh, that Monsieur l'Abbe had told you nothing--that you did not even

know the soldiers had been sent for."

"_La principessina_!" shouted the crowd, impatient with a colloquy in a

language it could not understand. "_Vogliamo sentire la

principessina_!"

Princess Montefiano took her step-daughter by the hand and led her

forward. "Speak to them," she repeated, in Italian; and as she spoke,

she drew back, leaving Bianca standing in front of her.

The words and the action accompanying them met with an immediate

response from the peasants. _"Evviva la principessa!_" they cried, and

then pressed forward until Bianca was almost surrounded.

"Go," she said, in a quiet, clear voice--"go back to your homes, now you

know that neither my step-mother nor I will allow any injustice to be

done to our people. _Signori_," she added, addressing the delegate and

the officer in command of the _granatieri_, "you will order the troops

to retire, is it not true? You see well that we are in no danger here

at Montefiano."

An outburst of approval drowned the remainder of her words, and with a

shrug of the shoulders the civil official turned to the officer in

command and bade him give the order to his men to leave the court-yard.

The peasants fell back to allow the troops to pass through their midst,

and cheered the captain of the _granatieri_ as he marched through the

gateway at the head of his company.

As the last of the soldiers disappeared under the archway, the majority

of the peasants prepared tranquilly to follow them. A certain number

lingered, however, talking eagerly among themselves, and presently

shouts of "_Evviva i fidanzati!_" were raised, succeeded by cries of

"_Evviva Rossano!_"

Princess Montefiano turned hastily, and a look of astonishment and anger

crossed her face.

"You see, madame," said the Abbe Roux, quickly, "the whole affair has

another scope than that which you have been made to believe to be the

case. There is the true ringleader of the peasants"--and he pointed

scornfully to Silvio Rossano, who was urging the remainder of the crowd

to leave the castle without making any further demonstration.

The princess did not answer, but she looked intently at Silvio for a

moment. Then she turned to her brother. "Philippe," she said, coldly,

"you will have the goodness to inform Signor Rossano that his presence

here is unwelcome, and that he must leave the castle with--his friends!"

Bianca started forward. "No," she exclaimed, abruptly; "if you send

that message, Monsieur d'Antin shall not be the bearer of it! It is an

insult, a--"

Princess Montefiano waved her back indignantly. "Have you no shame?"

she said, rapidly, beneath her breath.

Monsieur d'Antin smiled. "Bianca is right, Jeanne," he observed. "I

prefer not to be the bearer of your message. No doubt Monsieur l'Abbe

will undertake to deliver it," and then he laughed gently.

Bianca looked at him for a moment in evident perplexity, and then

quickly averted her gaze.

"Wait," she said to her step-mother, earnestly--"wait till you have

heard--till you know."

Princess Montefiano gave a gesture of impatience.

"I think you are all mad!" she exclaimed, angrily. "And in this, at

least, I will be obeyed. Philippe--"

Don Agostino interrupted her.

"Madame," he said, "let me entreat you not to insist. Donna Bianca is

right--it would be an insult. When you have heard all Donna Bianca has

to tell you--all that others have to tell you--you will understand

better, and perhaps you will form a different opinion. But this is not

the place for explanations. It is not necessary to discuss a scandal in

public."

"How, _monsignore_, a scandal!" exclaimed Princess Montefiano,

indignantly.

"I repeat it, madame--a scandal," returned Don Agostino, looking at the

Abbe Roux and Monsieur d'Antin steadily. "Donna Bianca Acorari and

yourself have been the victims of a dishonorable intrigue. Ah, I am not

afraid to use the expression, for I can prove my words."

"But you may be mistaken, _monsignore_--you may be mistaken," observed

Monsieur d'Antin, airily, gently rubbing his hands as he spoke.

"If I am so, monsieur, it is for you and the Abbe Roux to prove it,"

returned Don Agostino, coldly.

"Ah, as to that," Monsieur d'Antin said, composedly, "I can only speak

for myself. Monsieur l'Abbe Roux must make his own defence. I am not

responsible for his actions."

The abbe's face grew livid.

"What do you mean?" he exclaimed, hoarsely. "Do you mean to say that

your honor is less attacked than mine by this disgraced priest?"

"Honor?" repeated Monsieur d'Antin; "honor, Monsieur l'Abbe? Oh, la,

la! Monsignor Lelli is right, Jeanne," he continued. "This is not the

place for explanations. I would suggest retiring in-doors."

The princess looked from one to the other. "I do not understand," she

said, at length, "but if I am to hear of more deceptions--more abuses of

my trust and confidence--this is certainly not the moment to discuss

them. Come, Bianca! _Monsignore_," she continued, "you will doubtless

explain to me your words in the presence of Monsieur l'Abbe Roux and my

brother."

Don Agostino bowed. "I desire nothing better, madame," he said, and

then he paused and glanced at Silvio. "I must ask that Signor Rossano

may also be present," he added, "since what I and others have to say

concerns him nearly, and it is only fair to him and to Donna Bianca that

he should hear it."

The princess gave a gesture of dissent.

"No," she replied, "Signor Rossano is a stranger. I cannot admit that

he is in any way concerned with my step-daughter's affairs or with my

own."

Don Agostino hesitated for a moment. Then he said, quietly: "I cannot

press the subject, madame. It is possible, however, that you may change

your opinion."

"When I do so, I will send for Signor Rossano," returned Princess

Montefiano, obdurately. "Come, Bianca," she repeated, "we will hear

what Monsignor Lelli has to say."

The court-yard was by this time nearly empty. Fontana and Sor Stefano,

together with a few of the older and more prominent tenants, alone

remained. Princess Montefiano turned away, and, accompanied by Bianca,

who, now that she had played her part, seemed to be overcome by a

nervous shyness, slowly ascended the flight of steps leading up to the

portico of the _piano nobile_. Monsieur d'Antin and the Abbe Roux

followed them in silence, but Don Agostino lingered for a moment.

Approaching Silvio, who was standing apart, he said to him, hurriedly:

"Do not go away, _figlio mio_, you may be wanted to plead your own

cause."

And without waiting to offer any further explanations, he followed the

princess and the others into the castle.

*XXXIV*

Of those who accompanied Princess Montefiano into one of the

drawing-rooms on the _piano nobile_ of the castle, Monsieur d'Antin

certainly appeared to be the least embarrassed. Throughout the crisis

which had just been overcome he had preserved an imperturbable air of

composure, and almost, indeed, of indifference. The Abbe Roux glanced

at his confederate every now and then with an expression at once of

bewilderment and resentment on his countenance. Nevertheless, to judge

by his demeanor, Monsieur d'Antin appeared to be completely at his ease,

and even, in a quiet way, to be enjoying the situation in the

development of which he found himself called upon to assist.

"If you have no objection, my dear Jeanne," he observed airily, to his

sister, "I will smoke. It calms the nerves." And, producing his case,

he proceeded to light a cigarette in a leisurely and deliberate manner.

Monsieur d'Antin's action seemed to break the spell of embarrassment

that had fallen upon those around him. The princess, it was true, had

already shown herself to be no longer the weak, pliable individual that

even her brother had been accustomed to consider her. The suspicion,

now almost a conviction, that she had been deceived, that her authority

had been exploited and undermined by the person in whom she had placed

all her confidence and reliance, appeared to have had the effect of

arousing in Princess Montefiano that spirit of imperiousness which in

reality was inherent in her nature, as it has almost invariably been in

that of the deeply religious of both sexes and of all creeds--being,

after all, but a form of intellectual vanity wearing the garb of

holiness. To say the truth, Monsieur d'Antin had been not a little

surprised at the change in his sister's attitude. He had expected that

she would altogether decline to listen to any evidence that should tell

against the Abbe Roux. He had not quite understood that great as was

the glamour of the priesthood in his sister's eyes, her own authority

and power were yet greater, and that she would not readily condone any

action tending to infringe or diminish them.

Moreover, Baron d'Antin had not fully realized how strong was Princess

Montefiano's sense of her duty towards her husband's child, or how

genuine was her desire fully to act up to that sense. He had always

regarded Jeanne's marriage as one of those desperate remedies which

single women of a certain age were apt to take as a palliative for evils

not invariably of a physical nature; and, being quite aware that his

sister had very little real affection for her step-daughter, he had

often wondered whether Bianca's existence must not be, as it were,

something of a thorn in the flesh.

But if Monsieur d'Antin was surprised at his sister's change of

attitude, he was still more astonished at the blunder committed by the

Abbe Roux in basing his schemes to enrich himself at Bianca Acorari's

expense on so unsound a foundation. He had always taken it for granted

that the Abbe Roux was feathering his own nest, but he had never

troubled himself to ascertain the details of the process adopted by that

ecclesiastic, though he was convinced that in some way or another the

abbe had succeeded in making money out of his position in the Montefiano

household. Indeed, Monsieur l'Abbe had not attempted to deny that Donna

Bianca's marriage to a stranger would not at all suit the objects he had

in view. Monsieur d'Antin was perfectly aware that he was dealing with

a rogue--but he had at least given the abbe the credit of being a clever

rogue, though perhaps not quite as clever as himself. He certainly would

not have believed that the priest would have allowed himself to be

outwitted, as he evidently had been outwitted, by a bankrupt _mercante

di campagna_, to whom he had been presumably paying a commission for the

use of his name. This was a folly and an irretrievable blunder; and

Monsieur d'Antin, who was certainly not lacking in astuteness, on

hearing Stefano Mazza's confident assertions, had at once realized that

the game had reached the stage of _rien ne va plus_. If he were to

continue to maintain friendly relations with Jeanne--and it certainly

would not be to his advantage that these relations should cease--he must

walk warily. And the Abbe Roux? Well, the Abbe Roux must pay the

penalty usually inflicted upon the unsuccessful--he must be disowned.

To be sure, he would have liked to possess Bianca; but, as Monsieur

d'Antin had told himself more than once lately, this was obviously

impossible of attainment. He was conscious of being no match for the

girl's quiet, determined will, and he dared not make any second attempt

to force his passion upon her. No, it would be better, more diplomatic,

to retire gracefully from the contest while there was yet time; and the

present moment surely afforded opportunity for a man of ready resource

to do so.

In the mean while, Princess Montefiano had been the object of a keener

observation than that of Monsieur d'Antin. Don Agostino had noted every

expression of her countenance, every inflection of her voice, almost

every movement of her person since she had descended into the

court-yard. He had marked the succession of feelings called forth by

the discovery that she had been deceived where she had most trusted; he

had followed the struggle between her sense of justice, her wounded

pride, her disgust and mortification at finding that her confidence had

been abused by one whose sacred calling had been used as a means whereby

to exploit it. And Don Agostino, far from blaming her former weakness,

had sympathized with her in his heart, for he felt that he understood

all she was suffering, every phase of her trial. Perhaps it had been

some sense of this silent sympathy that had made Princess Montefiano

more than once turn to him as though intuitively seeking the aid of the

man she had so short a time before refused to receive. If Monsieur

d'Antin had found his sister's attitude when brought face to face with

her difficulties superb, as he had expressed it, Don Agostino had been

scarcely less struck by her courage and unexpected assumption of

dignity; and he was fully able to appreciate both the one and the other.

It was clear to him that there was nothing mean about Princess

Montefiano, and that, once persuaded that wrong had been done, she would

right it at whatever cost to her own feelings. Indeed, Don Agostino was

fain to admit that both the princess and Monsieur d'Antin showed _sang

de race_ in a difficult and embarrassing situation. Nevertheless, he

felt himself entirely unable to account for Monsieur d'Antin's apparent

composure and indifference, knowing, as he now did, of the pact existing

between him and the Abbe Roux, whereby Bianca Acorari was, if possible,

to be sacrificed.

Don Agostino's reflections were disturbed by the princess addressing

him.

"_Monsignore_," she said, quietly, "we can now discuss, in private,

matters which it was not fitting to discuss before my step-daughter. I

must ask you to explain the meaning of certain expressions you have used

regarding Donna Bianca Acorari. I do not wish you to be under any

misapprehension, so it will be perhaps as well that I should tell you

that my brother has had my full consent in wishing to make Donna Bianca

his wife. You appear to be aware that my step-daughter has allowed

herself to form another attachment in--in an entirely undesirable

quarter. I am her guardian, and without my consent she cannot marry

until she is twenty-one. This, _monsignore_, was a special clause to

her father's will."

"Madame, I am under no misapprehension," returned Don Agostino. "It is

rather you who are so and I regret to be obliged to say what will give

you pain to hear."

"Continue, _monsignore_," said Princess Montefiano, as he paused.

"You ought to know, madame, that if you have been persuaded to sanction

a union between Baron d'Antin and your step-daughter, it is because such

a union would have enabled the Abbe Roux to continue for some years to

farm the rents of Donna Bianca's lands. Briefly, madame, you have been

tricked by the Abbe Roux, and, I regret to say, by your brother, who, in

return for the abbe's assistance in persuading you to allow such a

marriage, engaged not to interfere with his lease of the rents for a

certain period, before the expiration of which Donna Bianca would long

have attained her majority. The danger of her marrying an honest

gentleman of good family, who has been represented to you as an

adventurer and a nobody, has been perpetually put forward with the

object of gaining your consent to what your own sense of justice, of

propriety, madame, would otherwise have forbidden you to contemplate."

Princess Montefiano started up from her chair. "_Monsignore!_" she

exclaimed; "do you know what you are saying? You forget that you are

accusing my brother of a villanous action! Philippe," she continued,

passionately, "tell Monsignor Lelli that he is mistaken--tell him that

he lies, if you like--but do not let me think that you, my brother, have

also deceived me--that you could lend yourself to such a horrible

intrigue--"

"My dear Jeanne!" interrupted Monsieur d'Antin. "My dear Jeanne!" he

repeated, and then he laughed softly.

"It is incredible--monstrous! I will not believe it!" Princess

Montefiano exclaimed, with increasing agitation.

Monsieur d'Antin blew a ring of smoke into the air from his cigarette.

"Monsignor Lelli is mistaken, Jeanne," he observed, tranquilly; "one can

say as much to him without offence. But to say that he lies would not

be permissible. It would be--well, an exaggeration. Before replying to

his accusation, I should like to ask Monsignor Lelli on what grounds he

bases it. He does not, I presume, derive his information from Monsieur

l'Abbe Roux?"

Don Agostino looked at him steadily.

"I derive my information from those who have overheard conversations

between you and the Abbe Roux--conversations carried on, as you

believed, in private--in which your plans were very fully discussed.

Can you deny, monsieur, that the arrangement I have named exists between

you and the Abbe Roux?"

Monsieur d'Antin shrugged his shoulders. "I have not the least

intention of denying it," he observed, calmly.

"Philippe!" exclaimed the princess.

The abbe started forward. "_Imbecile!_" he muttered, under his breath.

"It is perfectly true," pursued Monsieur d'Antin, ignoring him. "I

entered into the compact with Monsieur l'Abbe, the nature of which

Monsignor Lelli has described fairly accurately. You see, my dear

Jeanne," he continued, "I have not your reverence for the clergy, and I

thought it possible--just possible--that Monsieur l'Abbe Roux was--well,

taking advantage of your belief in the apostolic succession. Is not

that the correct term? By degrees I became convinced of it. It amused

me to see how far Monsieur l'Abbe, with a little encouragement, would

go; and I--yes, I myself--proposed to him the arrangement which

Monsignor Lelli has just disclosed. It was eagerly jumped at, my little

proposal," and Monsieur d'Antin rubbed his hands together gently, with a

quiet chuckle.

"It is a lie!" cried the abbe, furiously. "You confessed to me that you

were in love with Donna Bianca, and asked me to use my influence with

the princess to remove her objections to your becoming the husband of

her step-daughter."

"And you gave me absolution," returned Monsieur d'Antin, dryly. "Ah,

yes, you certainly gave me absolution--but conditionally, Monsieur

l'Abbe, always conditionally, you know!"

"But, Philippe," interrupted Princess Montefiano, "I do not understand.

You told me yourself that you loved Bianca--that you would only be happy

when she consented to be your wife."

"Quite true, my dear Jeanne," Monsieur d'Antin replied. "What would you

have? I do not wear the _soutane_, so I have no protection against the

weaknesses of the flesh. Yes, your step-daughter is charming,

adorable--but her charms are not for me. She has made that very clear

to me. It is deplorable, but I have failed, and there is nothing left

for me but to retire in favor of a more fortunate rival. But my failure

has nothing to do with the point--nothing at all. If Monsieur l'Abbe

wants further explanations of my conduct in allowing him to believe that

in return for his assistance in my unlucky affair of the heart I should

not interfere with his affairs of the pocket, I am quite ready to give

them to him. But, monsieur," he added, as the Abbe Roux, white with

rage and mortification, attempted to interrupt him, "do not forget that

in giving me absolution when I made my little confession to you of my

passion for Donna Bianca, you stipulated for something in return. It is

always so, is it not? One is not supposed to come to _le bon Dieu_

empty handed. You made it clear that without your support I could never

hope to gain my sister's consent to my object, and that you were only

disposed to accord this support on the condition of my not interfering

with your rights over the rents of the Montefiano lands.

"Well, I agreed; but I agreed under that most convenient of all

compromises--a mental reservation. _A la guerre comme a la guerre,

n'est-ce pas_, Monsieur l'Abbe? Ha, ha, ha!" and Monsieur d'Antin

laughed good-humoredly.

The Abbe Roux remained silent. Perhaps he was thinking that the

suspicions he had at times entertained as to whether it were not

Monsieur d'Antin who was manipulating him rather than he Monsieur

d'Antin, had turned out to be entirely justifiable.

In the mean time, Don Agostino had been regarding Monsieur d'Antin with

a peculiar expression, which was certainly not that of a person

convinced of the truth of what he had just heard.

"You wish me to understand, then," he said to him, dryly, "that you

merely pretended to fall in with the Abbe Roux's suggestions, in order

to ascertain how far your suspicions that he was abusing his position as

confidential adviser to Madame la Princesse were correct?"

Monsieur d'Antin turned to him with admirable dignity.

"Assuredly, _monsignore_," he replied. "Do you presume, then, to

suppose that I should lend myself to a conspiracy to deceive my own

sister, and to enrich an unworthy individual at her and Donna Bianca

Acorari's expense? No, monsieur! I may have my little weaknesses where

women are concerned, and I frankly admit that had Donna Bianca not

rejected my advances I should have considered myself a very happy man.

But where my honor is concerned, Monsieur le Cure, or the honor of my

family, I, Philippe d'Antin, have no weaknesses!"

Don Agostino looked at him hard, and his finely moulded lips curved in

an ironical smile.

"I make you my compliments, Monsieur le Baron," he said, quietly. "One

sees that you have done your best to protect yourself from possible

misconstructions being placed upon your actions."

Monsieur d'Antin bowed and smiled benignly.

"Precisely," he said, suavely. "You, _monsignore_, as a man of the

world, will understand--"

"Everything," interposed Don Agostino, with a slight shrug of the

shoulders.

At this moment Princess Montefiano, who had been listening attentively

to all that had passed, suddenly rose from her chair.

"Monsieur l'Abbe," she said, coldly, "I have heard enough to convince me

that I need no longer trouble you for your advice or assistance in the

management of my affairs.

"No, monsieur," she continued, as the abbe tried to speak, "excuses are

useless. My confidence has been abused; and you have presumed to

mislead me in the exercise of my authority over my step-daughter and her

affairs for motives of your own. You may return to Rome, monsieur,

since your services here are no longer required. You will have ample

time to drive to Attigliano and take the evening train."

"Madame!" exclaimed the Abbe Roux.

"Not a word, sir," returned the princess, imperiously. "I trusted you as

a friend and as a priest. You have proved yourself unworthy of that

trust, and it is enough. Until the last moment--until the troops were

within these walls--you have lied to me--yes, lied. And for what? In

order to make money; in order--"

Princess Montefiano's voice failed her, and, suddenly overcome, she sat

down in her chair. The Abbe Roux advanced towards her.

"Yes," he said, in accents trembling with anger and mortification--"yes,

I will go to Rome, and all Rome shall hear how Donna Bianca Acorari has

compromised herself, and how she has given herself to the first man who

crossed her path. You may turn me out of your house, madame, but you

cannot close my mouth. And you," he added, turning to Monsieur d'Antin,

"you are a liar and a coward!"

Baron d'Antin shrugged his shoulders. "And you, Monsieur l'Abbe," he

replied, "are a priest; otherwise--"

"Philippe," said the princess, in a hard, dry voice, "will you be so

kind as to ring the bell?"

"Madame!" vociferated the abbe again.

The princess took no notice of him, and the _maggior-domo_ answered the

summons with suspicious promptitude.

"Giovanni," Princess Montefiano said, "a carriage will be wanted to take

the Signor Abate and his luggage to Attigliano in time for the evening

train to Rome.

"Monsieur," continued the princess, "I will detain you no longer. You

have doubtless arrangements to make for your departure."

For a moment the Abbe Roux seemed as though about to make an appeal to

her. Then, without uttering a word, he walked hastily across the

apartment and disappeared through the double doors leading into the

dining-room, beyond which the room he had occupied as his study was

situated.

He had scarcely gone when Princess Montefiano turned to her brother and

Don Agostino.

"He will ruin that poor girl's reputation!" she exclaimed, bitterly,

"and all Rome will say that I have neglected my duty towards her because

she is not my own child."

"It will be very easy to prevent anything of the kind, princess," said

Don Agostino, quickly.

The princess looked at him. "And how, _monsignore_?" she asked.

"By allowing Donna Bianca to marry the man she loves," returned Don

Agostino, "the man who would make her an absolutely worthy husband."

"The son of an infidel professor? Never, _monsignore_!" exclaimed

Princess Montefiano, emphatically. "Besides," she added, and then,

pausing abruptly, she glanced at Monsieur d'Antin.

Don Agostino looked at him also, and as their eyes met Baron d'Antin

averted his own. He read an expression of warning in Don Agostino's

glance, a silent hint that, however successfully he might have deceived

his sister in his adroit repudiation of any genuine compact having

existed between the Abbe Roux and himself, he had not for an instant

deceived Monsignor Lelli.

"Monsieur le Baron has already announced his readiness to accept Donna

Bianca's refusal to entertain his offer," Don Agostino observed. "Is it

not so?" he added, addressing Monsieur d'Antin.

The latter nodded. "You surely would not wish me to force my love upon

Bianca?" he said to his sister. "You know, Jeanne, that she will have

none of it, and I--well, I must submit," and he sighed.

"No, no, Philippe, of course I should not wish that," the princess

replied, hurriedly. "Indeed," she continued, "I am relieved. I never

approved of your proposal, and I would never have consented to it, had

not the Abbe Roux insisted that Bianca had hopelessly compromised

herself."

"But how compromised herself, madame?" interrupted Don Agostino, almost

angrily. "Because your step-daughter has given her love to one who

loves and respects her, whom she, too, loves, and who is worthy of her

love, in what or how has she compromised herself? But these are fables,

princess, malicious insinuations, invented for the purpose of advancing

the schemes of that--that _imbroglione_ who has just left us. At least,

receive young Rossano, madame, and hear what he has to say for himself.

It is only justice--justice to him and to Donna Bianca. Why ruin the

happiness of two young lives because of caste prejudices, and especially

when the difference is one of rank only--for the Rossano are an old and

well-born family, lacking nothing but a title to make them the equals of

the Acorari."

Princess Montefiano shook her head.

"A man may take his wife from the _bourgeoisie_," she said, "and it does

not matter so much. But a woman loses caste by marrying beneath her.

But it is not the question of difference in position only," she

continued. "You, _monsignore_, cannot expect a stanch Catholic, such as

I am, to consent to my step-daughter's marriage to the son of a

notorious sceptic and freemason."

"The Senator Rossano may be a sceptic," said Don Agostino, "but he is

certainly not a freemason, and he is certainly not antichristian."

"Not a freemason?" repeated the princess. "But, _monsignore_, I have

been told that he is one of the most prominent of that abominable

organization. I have heard that he is a frequent attendant at those

blasphemous orgies in Rome in which sacrileges are committed that I dare

not name."

Don Agostino smiled. "The Abbe Roux was no doubt your informant," he

observed. "I have known Professor Rossano for many years, and he is

most certainly not a freemason. The statement that he is so is as false

and fantastic as the legends concerning the orgies and sacrileges to

which you have just alluded. May I suggest, princess, that you would do

well not to take the assertions of the Abbe Roux too seriously?"

Princess Montefiano colored. "It would indeed seem so," she replied,

bitterly. "Philippe," she added, suddenly, turning to her brother,

"what is your advice? Shall I do as Monsignor Lelli wishes, and receive

Signor Rossano?"

Monsieur d'Antin glanced at Don Agostino.

"Really, Jeanne," he replied, "you are putting my generosity to a severe

test, and I should prefer, under the circumstances, to offer no advice.

However, I will be generous; and since the young man is here--well, you

might take the opportunity of forming your own judgment as to his

suitability to become the husband of your step-daughter. At least, I

beg of you to spare me the ordeal of being present at your interview.

Really, the events of this afternoon have been sufficiently disturbing

to the nerves. With your permission, I will retire to my own room and

leave Monsignor Lelli to support you during your conversation with my

fortunate rival. But, before I leave you, there are one or two little

points that I should like to have explained to me, and no doubt

Monsignor Lelli can explain them.

"In the first place," continued Monsieur d'Antin, "you, _monsignore_,

say that you derive your information from some person or persons who

overheard conversations between me and the Abbe Roux--conversations

which we believed to be held in private. I confess that I do not

understand how this could be the case; although I can perfectly

understand how any third person overhearing certain conversations I have

had with the abbe would very naturally conclude that I was his

confederate."

"You may not understand," replied Don Agostino; "nevertheless, you were

overheard, and much of what passed between you and the Abbe Roux has

been repeated in Montefiano. It was owing to this fact, and to Stefano

Mazza's assurances that the abbe was in reality the _affittuario_ of the

rents, that the peasantry were so determined to see and speak with Donna

Bianca. The whole _paese_ knew, madame," he added to the princess,

"what you were in ignorance of. I was very certain that you were being

deceived, and it was this certainty which made me so anxious to see you

personally, before any disturbance should break out."

Monsieur d'Antin was silent for a moment. He had never contemplated the

possibility of his conversations with the abbe becoming known. They had

been, as he was well aware, compromising enough, and he now felt more

convinced than ever that Monsignor Lelli had not been deceived by his

disavowal of any genuine intention to make himself a partner in the Abbe

Roux's schemes, nor by his declaration that he had only feigned to agree

with them in order to prove to himself the priest's unworthiness to

enjoy his sister's confidence.

Monsieur d'Antin, however, was not wanting in assurance. Its possession

had on more than one occasion stood him in good Stead, and the present

situation was certainly one in which assurance and _aplomb_ were needed.

It did not greatly concern him what Monsignor Lelli might or might not

privately think of him. He had no intention, however, of forfeiting his

sister's good opinion, and her summary dismissal of the Abbe Roux had

shown him very plainly that Jeanne's character was not quite so weak as

he had supposed.

"One must conclude that the walls of Montefiano have ears," he said at

length; "but since the eavesdroppers, whoever they may have been, placed

a wrong, though very natural, interpretation on what they overheard--at

least, so far as my part in the affair was concerned--it does not appear

to me greatly to matter."

"Philippe," exclaimed the princess, "for a moment I wronged you. I

thought you, too, had deceived me. That would have been a hard thing to

bear, for--"

"My dear Jeanne," interrupted Monsieur d'Antin, "do not think of it

again, I beg of you. I saw that you suspected me, but I assure you that

I made every allowance for you under the circumstances. Let us trust

that now you are relieved of the Abbe Roux's presence, there will be no

more misunderstandings. After all, Jeanne, a brother is more likely to

be disinterested than a stranger who is paid for his services; is it not

so?"

Don Agostino looked from Baron d'Antin to the princess, but he said

nothing. Indeed, it was only by a slightly ironical smile that he

betrayed any sign of having listened to Monsieur d'Antin's remarks.

Monsieur d'Antin did not continue the subject. He kissed his sister

affectionately, and then observed: "I leave you, my dear Jeanne. As I

said before, the last hour or so has been sufficiently trying to the

nerves, and in any case, I do not feel equal to assisting at your

interview with Monsieur Silvio Rossano. All the same, I am generous

enough to say that, in my opinion, you do quite right to receive him.

It may be that our friend the abbe has painted him in blacker colors

that he deserves, and perhaps your interview with him will remove other

misunderstandings. My only desire, Jeanne, is for Bianca's happiness,"

and Monsieur d'Antin placed his hand on his heart and sighed.

"_Au revoir_, monsieur," he continued, bowing to Don Agostino; "_a

bientot_, I hope," and then, humming a little tune to himself, he left

the room.

"My brother has certainly a generous nature," remarked Princess

Montefiano. Don Agostino did not consider himself called upon to reply

to her observation.

"You have known this young Rossano for some time, _monsignore_, is it

not so?" she asked, presently.

"For some time--yes," Don Agostino replied; "not for long, certainly,"

he added, "but I know enough of him from his father, who, as I told you,

madame, is an old friend of mine, to make me confident that he would

make any woman a good husband."

"The Professor Rossano is not an individual of whom I could approve,"

the princess said, dryly. "Such men do much to create unhappiness in

family life by their teaching. You must pardon me if I say that I should

not accept his opinion concerning a young man's character."

"Because you do not know him, princess," returned Don Agostino, bluntly.

"If I had not full confidence both in Professor Rossano and in his son,"

he added, "I should certainly not sympathize with the latter in his

desire to marry Donna Bianca Acorari. The responsibility would have

been too great, and--" He hesitated for a moment, and then was silent.

Princess Montefiano glanced at him with some curiosity. "My

responsibility is great," she said, "for my step-daughter is certainly

not like other girls. She has a peculiar disposition--inherited, I

fear, from her mother--my poor husband's first wife. I do not wish to

speak ill of the dead, _monsignore_, but--"

"No," exclaimed Don Agostino, abruptly, "no, madame! Let the dead rest

in peace."

Princess Montefiano made the sign of the cross. "Of course," she said,

gravely. "But I have a duty towards the living, and I cannot forget

that my step-daughter's mother was--well, not all she should have been

as a wife. Oh, I do not mean to imply that, after her marriage, she was

guilty of any misconduct," she continued, hurriedly, "but she did not

make her husband happy--it was a wretched marriage. At any rate,

_monsignore_, I am not injuring her memory by saying that she never

loved my poor husband. She had formed an unfortunate attachment, before

her marriage, for somebody who was not, I believe, quite her equal, and

this seems to have ruined her whole life. You cannot wonder if I am

determined to prevent her daughter from falling into the same unhappy

circumstances. Indeed, I have sometimes felt an almost superstitious

alarm lest the mother's story were destined to be repeated in her

daughter's life. It is certainly strange that Bianca also should have

formed this violent attachment for a young man who, however worthy he

may be individually, is not of her own order."

Don Agostino did not answer immediately. He leaned his arm upon a table

beside him, and his face was partially concealed by his hand.

Presently he raised his head and looked earnestly at Princess

Montefiano.

"Madame," he said, in a low voice, "you bear the name and have succeeded

to the place of her who is no longer here to speak in her own behalf.

Do not, I beg of you, misjudge her."

The princess started. "_Monsignore!_" she exclaimed. "What do you know

of my husband's first wife? You speak as though her story were known to

you. But I forgot. No doubt, during the years you were in Rome you

heard stories concerning the disagreements between her and the prince;

for I believe there was much gossip at one time."

"I knew her story well, princess," replied Don Agostino, quietly.

"Perhaps I ought to tell you that very few people knew it better."

"You knew her?" the princess asked, with surprise.

"Yes--I knew her."

Princess Montefiano hesitated for a moment.

"Ah!" she said, at length. "You were, perhaps, in her confidence,

_monsignore_--in your priestly capacity, I mean. If that is the case, of

course we will not discuss the subject any more. You must forgive me,

but I was quite unaware that you even knew her history, and still less

that you had been personally acquainted with her. Naturally, under the

circumstances, you would not wish to hear her conduct discussed,

especially by me. Believe me, it is only my desire to do my duty by the

child she left which makes me dread taking any action which might lead

to that child following in her mother's footsteps."

"I was in her confidence--yes," said Don Agostino, after a pause, "but

not in the sense you mean, princess--not as a priest. I knew her--ah,

many years ago--and you are right: I cannot discuss the subject. At the

same time, will you permit me to ask you a question?"

Princess Montefiano bent her head without speaking.

"Are you sure," proceeded Don Agostino, "that in your determination to

oppose Donna Bianca's love for Silvio Rossano you are not running the

grave risk of bringing about the very state of things you wish to avoid?

Ah, madame," he continued, earnestly, "I must ask for your patience--for

your pardon--if I seem to interfere in matters which you might justly

tell me can be no concern of mine. You fear lest your step-daughter may

have inherited her mother's nature. Well, I believe your fears to be

justified. Her mother loved once, and once only, during her lifetime,

and, strangely enough, under circumstances almost identical with those

accompanying Donna Bianca's attachment. She was forced to marry a man

she did not love, in order to satisfy the prejudices and the ambition of

her family. What was the result, madame? Disaster--unhappiness. What

will be the result of pursuing the same course with the daughter as that

pursued with the mother--in the case of two natures so similar?

"And whom will you bring forward in the place of young Rossano? Some

Roman with a title borrowed from his father, but with nothing else; some

young spendthrift who, like many we could name, has paid his court to

every rich American, to every wealthy foreign girl, Christian or Jewess,

in the hope of buying her fortune with his name--and who will use his

wife's money to pay off his creditors and to support a mistress. We

need not--we who know Rome--seek far in order to find such examples,

princess. You talk of responsibility. Do you venture to contemplate

what responsibility for such a course would mean?"

He spoke earnestly, gravely, with a note of warning in his voice which

silenced the objections already rising to Princess Montefiano's lips.

The princess did not know very much of the under-currents of life, but

she was sufficiently well acquainted with the world to be aware that

Monsignor Lelli had not exaggerated his presentment of them. Perhaps,

too, she contrasted in her own mind his simple, straightforward

statements with the more flowery moral speeches she had been accustomed

to hear from the Abbe Roux.

"I want my step-daughter to marry happily," she repeated; "and--yes, I

will see this young man, _monsignore_. But I will not give my consent to

my step-daughter marrying him until I have satisfied myself that he is

worthy to be her husband. The fact of the Rossanos not being noble, is,

after all, not an insuperable difficulty--one hears of cases every day

in which traditions of class are departed from--"

"It is a mere question of money," interrupted Don Agostino. "And money,

to make a very banal remark, does not always bring happiness; whereas

love-- Princess," he added, abruptly, "I feel sure that you will not

repent your action in receiving this young Rossano. I will bring him to

you; and then, if you will permit me, I will leave you to speak with him

alone. Afterwards, if you wish to see me, I shall be entirely at your

service."

"Certainly, _monsignore_!" exclaimed Princess Montefiano, hurriedly.

"There is much that I wish to learn

*XXXV*

Don Agostino was amused to find Silvio engaged in earnest conversation

with Concetta Fontana outside the court-yard of the castle. The open

space beyond the gateway, lately the scene of so much confusion, was now

entirely deserted; for the peasants had retired into the _paese_, where

all the Montefianesi--men, women, and children--were busy discussing the

events of the last few hours at the tops of their voices.

It was evident that Silvio was making the best of his opportunities to

learn from Concetta all that she might be able to tell him concerning

Bianca, and also as to how she had acquired her information concerning

the understanding between the Abbe Roux and Monsieur d'Antin. It was

evident, also, that Concetta was readily imparting all the information

she had to give on the subject, for the pair were so engrossed in their

conversation that they were unaware of Don Agostino's approach.

"The princess wishes to see you," Don Agostino said to Silvio. "I have

come to take you to her."

Concetta clapped her hands.

"Vittoria!" she exclaimed. "What have I been telling the _signorino_?

That once her excellency's eyes were opened, there would be no more

difficulties."

Don Agostino smiled. He thought to himself that if her excellency were

to look at Silvio through Concetta's eyes, difficulties would in all

probability quickly be smoothed away. But the question yet remained to

be proved whether she would do so.

"Come, Silvio," he said, briefly, "you will find the princess alone."

"And Monsieur d'Antin?" asked Silvio.

Don Agostino took his arm and turned into the court-yard. "Monsieur

d'Antin?" he repeated. "Ah, Monsieur d'Antin's nerves are upset; he has

gone to his room. For the rest, he will not interfere with you. No,

indeed; he will probably give you his blessing! Do you know, Silvio,

that I cannot make up my mind as to which is the greater scoundrel of

the two, Monsieur le Abbe or Monsieur le Baron. But there can be no

question as to which has the better head--oh, none at all! The Abbe

Roux put all his eggs in one basket; but Monsieur d'Antin divided his

with admirable judgment. All the same, with it all, Monsieur d'Antin is

a gentleman in his villanies, and a man of courage. The abbe is neither

the one nor the other. Moreover, Monsieur d'Antin has a decided sense of

humor; and humor, like charity, covers many sins. No, you need not fear

Monsieur d'Antin. And now, Silvio, before we go to the princess, tell

me what you have heard from Fontana's daughter. Everything, I suppose?"

"_Sicuro!_ everything. She repeated to me the conversation between the

abbe and Monsieur d'Antin she had overheard while standing in the secret

passage, and also some of those between the abbe and the princess--so

far as she was able to follow those last."

Don Agostino nodded. "It is as well that you should know of them," he

said. "But, Silvio," he added, "do not say anything to the princess

further to shake her confidence in what she believes to be her brother's

generosity. She must suffer enough, poor woman, from the discovery of

the abbe's treachery, and it would be cruel to give her another

disillusion. You and Donna Bianca can afford to pretend that you both

realize Monsieur d'Antin's disinterested conduct."

Silvio laughed. "I could, perhaps," he replied, "but Bianca--Concetta

Fontana says that Bianca has declared she will never speak to him again;

and when Bianca has made up her mind to do a thing--"

"She will do it," concluded Don Agostino. "One sees that very plainly,"

and then he paused and sighed. "Silvio," he said, suddenly, "there is

one other thing I wish to say to you. It may be that the princess will

ask you how it has come about that I have pleaded your cause with her.

If she does so, tell her that I have pleaded it in the name of her whose

name she bears. She will know what I mean. And show her this--as my

credentials," and, drawing the little case containing the miniature of

Bianca Acorari's mother from beneath his _soutane_, he placed it in

Silvio's hand.

"You will bring it back to me," he said. "Yes, I took it with me

to-day, thinking that if anything happened--if the soldiers had fired on

the people--it would have been with me at the last--for they would have

had to fire through me. There would have been a scandal afterwards, I

suppose," he added, "when the portrait was found upon me; but by that

time I should have been nearer to her--far away from the judgments of

men. Come, Silvio _mio_," he continued, with a smile. "It is your

passport, I hope--and it is not I only who give it to you, but one who

has a better right than I to do so, and whose envoy I am."

Silvio took the case, and as he did so he kissed Don Agostino's hand.

"If somebody had done by you as you have done by me!" he burst out,

passionately.

Don Agostino smiled. "_Ragazzo mio_," he interrupted, "the whole of

life is an 'if.' Come." And mounting the steps together, they entered

the vestibule of the _piano nobile_, where the _maggior-domo_ advanced

towards them, saying that he had orders to conduct them to the

princess's private sitting-room.

Princess Montefiano, as Don Agostino had told Silvio she would be, was

alone. She received Silvio with a distant courtesy, which,

nevertheless, was not unkindly, as he was presented to her.

"My friend, Silvio Rossano, will tell you his own story, _principessa_,"

Don Agostino observed. "With your permission I will wait for him in the

drawing-room, for he will return with me to my house," and he left them

together. The princess did not speak for a few moments. She appeared to

be thinking deeply, and every now and then Silvio felt that her eyes

were fixed upon him, while, as he met her glance, he saw an inquiring

and almost surprised expression in them. A more embarrassing situation

it would certainly have been hard to conceive; but Silvio, who was

accustomed to being interviewed by all sorts and conditions of people,

comforted himself with the reflection that if he were ill at ease,

Princess Montefiano could scarcely be less so. At length the princess

broke the silence.

"Signor Rossano," she said, "we need not waste words in coming to our

point. I have consented to receive you because--you must pardon me if I

speak plainly you have placed my step-daughter, Donna Bianca Acorari, in

an intolerable position for a young girl--a position which exposes her

to the mercy of any malicious gossip who may choose to make free with

her name."

Silvio started to his feet from the chair to which Princess Montefiano

had motioned him.

"Signora Principessa," he exclaimed, "you forget that your consent was

asked in the usual way."

"No, I do not forget," interrupted the princess. "It was asked after

you had spoken to my step-daughter spoken to her alone--a thing unheard

of, _signore_."

Silvio was silent for a moment. The princess was certainly right, and

he could not deny it.

"Had I not spoken to Donna Bianca," he said, presently, "I could never

have been certain that she returned my love. From the instant that I

knew she did so, I never attempted to see her again until my father had

made a formal offer on my behalf."

"Which offer was declined by me," returned the princess.

"By you, Signora Principessa, yes--"

"And should not that have been sufficient?"

In spite of himself, Silvio's eyes twinkled. "Well, no!" he replied.

"It was sufficient neither for Donna Bianca nor for me."

"Signor Rossano!" exclaimed the princess, in amazement.

"Neither for Donna Bianca nor for me," repeated Silvio, tranquilly;

"because, princess, we love each other, and we mean to marry--oh, not

this year, or next year, perhaps--but when Donna Bianca is of an age to

do as she chooses. Until that time arrives we are quite content to wait,

if necessary. It will make no difference in the end."

Princess Montefiano tapped her foot impatiently on the floor. Bianca

had said the very same words to her more than once.

"But surely," she began, "you must see for yourself the drawbacks--the

difficulties! It is a delicate subject, and I do not wish to offend

you, Signor Rossano, but--"

"But I am not noble? I understand that," interrupted Silvio. "It is

doubtless a drawback in your eyes," he continued, quickly; "but as to

difficulties, I have never been afraid of those. One can always

surmount them. And I am not here to make excuses for not having a

title," he added, a little haughtily. "We Rossanos have no need to be

ashamed of our blood; and, if it comes to that, my mother was of a noble

family. I have no need of Donna Bianca's money. My father is not a

poor man, and I can earn money if I choose."

"Ah, your mother was noble?" asked Princess Montefiano. "I did not know

that--"

"Oh, not of the _alta nobilta_," said Silvio, "but of a noble family of

the Romagna, of older descent than most of the Roman houses. But,

Signora Principessa, as you said a few minutes ago, we need not waste

words in discussion. Donna Bianca Acorari has done me the honor to say

that she will marry me, and I am content to wait until she is in a

position to do so. I thank you for having received me, if only because

you have given me the opportunity of saying to you that under no

circumstances will I seek to make Donna Bianca act against your consent

and authority. We both recognize that authority, princess, and while it

exists I shall certainly not be the one to dispute it. I should not, it

is true, have promised as much twelve hours ago."

Princess Montefiano looked at him quickly, and there was an expression

of approval in her glance. Had Silvio Rossano known it, he could not

have uttered words more likely to ingratiate himself with her than those

in which he expressed his recognition of her authority.

"And why not?" she asked.

Silvio hesitated. "Because I knew that Donna Bianca was the object of

an intrigue--that an arrangement had been made whereby she was to marry

a man much older than herself whom she could not love--"

"You allude to my brother, _signore_," the princess said, hastily. "But

there was no intrigue on his part. He has behaved throughout this

painful affair with a marvellous generosity and unselfishness. I must

be frank with you, Signor Rossano, and tell you that my brother's

primary object was to save Donna Bianca from the possible consequences

of the false position in which your thoughtlessness--for I do you the

justice, now that I have seen you and spoken with you, to believe it was

nothing more had placed her."

Silvio bowed. "The fact remains," he said, "that Donna Bianca rejected

Baron d'Antin's offer, knowing that she was already engaged to me. It

is not a matter which I need discuss--the more so, as Don Agostino

informs me that the baron has declared his determination to withdraw his

suit. It is sufficient for me, Signora Principessa, to know that you no

longer regard me as an adventurer, as a man whose birth and character do

not permit of his aspiring to be the husband of Donna Bianca Acorari.

For the rest, there is no more to be said. Time will prove that I do

not seek Donna Bianca because she is heiress to lands and titles, but

because I love her, and I know that she loves me. Signora Principessa,

I have the honor to salute you, and with your permission I will rejoin

Don Agostino."

"Wait, _signore_!" exclaimed the princess, suddenly, as, with a low bow,

Silvio moved towards the door. "There are certain things I wish to ask

you."

"Ask me anything," Silvio replied. "I am entirely at your service."

"What brings you here--to Montefiano--at this moment?" she continued,

looking at him keenly. "It has been said that this disturbance of the

peasantry has been largely fomented by you, for obvious reasons--that

you wished to enlist public sympathy on your behalf."

"It has been said so, yes," returned Silvio, "by the Abbe Roux. But the

Abbe Roux has said many things which will not bear investigation."

The princess winced. "But why are you here--at such a time?" she

insisted.

"Because I knew from Donna Bianca that there were threatenings of a

rising on the part of the peasants, and yesterday evening I read in a

newspaper in Rome that troops had been asked for, to proceed to

Montefiano. When I saw that, I determined to come by the first

available train, lest there should be danger to her."

"You heard from my step-daughter!" repeated the princess in amazement.

"But she knew nothing. Besides, how could she communicate with you, or

you with her? There is some fresh mystery here, some new deception that

I do not yet understand. Will you be so good as to explain yourself,

_signore_?"

"Donna Bianca knew everything," said Silvio, "except that the troops had

been summoned. This she did not know. When the mob burst into the

court-yard of the castle, your _fattore's_ daughter went to Donna

Bianca's room by the secret passage, in order to implore her to come out

and speak to the people--"

The princess stared at him. "By the secret passage!" she repeated.

"Signor Rossano, what fables are these?"

"Ah--you do not know--they have not explained to you yet?" asked Silvio,

quickly. "_Sicuro_--by the secret passage which leads into Donna

Bianca's room--where the portrait of the cardinal is--"

"Maria Santissima!" ejaculated the princess. "How do you know," she

continued, angrily, "that there is such a portrait in my step-daughter's

room? It is an outrage--"

"I know it because Donna Bianca has described it to me," returned

Silvio, who did not at the moment understand what it might be that had

so suddenly aroused the princess's indignation. "The picture moves into

the wall, and behind it is the secret entrance. Concetta Fontana, when

she went to warn Donna Bianca that the peasants were forcing their way

into the castle, found her locked in her room--"

"_Sciocchezze!_" exclaimed Princess Montefiano. "Why should she be

locked in her room?"

"For a very simple reason. The Abbe Roux did not want Donna Bianca to

know what was going on. She had retired to her room after breakfast,

and when the disturbances began, he turned the key of the door opening

into your apartment."

"It is true," said the princess, as if to herself. "The child

complained of a headache, and had gone to her room. I thought she was

there, until, to my astonishment, I heard that she was speaking to the

peasants."

"Concetta Fontana took her down the concealed passage," said Silvio,

"and it is fortunate she did so, princess, or there would certainly have

been bloodshed at Montefiano to-day."

"Holy Virgin! how many more things am I to hear?" exclaimed Princess

Montefiano. "As to this mysterious passage," she continued, "why have I

never been told of its existence? Even now I will not believe it until

I see it. Concetta Fontana must be romancing. At any rate, I will

investigate the matter for myself. And so it was by means of this

unknown passage that you communicated--by letter, of course--with my

step-daughter?"

"Yes," replied Silvio, simply. "I sent a letter to Don Agostino,

begging him to get it conveyed to Donna Bianca if he possibly could do

so. The agent--Fontana--told him of the passage, and how Donna Bianca's

room could be entered at any time by a person knowing the secret

communication. Concetta delivered the letter, and another subsequent

one, and took Donna Bianca's replies to Don Agostino. He posted them to

me. You see, Signora Principessa," added Silvio, "that I have answered

your questions frankly. And you will not blame Concetta, for she only

did as she was told."

Princess Montefiano looked at him with something like a smile on her

face. Possibly the straightforward manner in which Silvio had spoken to

her throughout their conversation had impressed her more favorably than

she was fully aware of.

"I do not understand why Monsignor Lelli--Don Agostino, as you call

him--should have taken upon himself to help you so untiringly," she

observed, presently. "In your case I conclude his friendship with your

father to have been the motive. But he seems to be equally concerned

for my step-daughter's happiness. To be sure he tells me that he knew

her mother, many years ago. He seemed to be under a strange emotion

when he spoke of her, and hinted at some kind of responsibility he felt

towards my step-daughter."

"Monsignor Lelli considers that he has a certain responsibility towards

Donna Bianca," said Silvio; and then he paused.

"But why, _signore_--why? It is inexplicable. Am I to understand that

this strange idea forms one of his reasons for so obviously supporting

your suit?"

Silvio looked at her quickly. "It is not inexplicable," he replied,

quietly. "It is an idea--a sentiment, perhaps--or perhaps it is more

than that. If one does not believe that the dead are conscious beings,

princess, what is the use of praying for them? And, if they are

conscious beings, why may they not exercise an influence over those who

are dear to them, and whom they have left behind?"

Princess Montefiano regarded him with surprise--but at the same time

with evident approval. She had certainly not expected to hear any such

arguments from the lips of a son of Professor Rossano.

"Signor Rossano," she exclaimed, "I thought that you believed in

nothing--I mean, that you were an atheist."

Silvio laughed. "Why, princess?" he asked.

"Why? Oh, because--well, because you are your father's son."

"My father is not an atheist," returned Silvio, simply. "He knows too

much--or not enough--to be one."

The princess stared at him. Perhaps she scarcely understood the full

significance of his answer; but all the same his words, coupled with his

preceding remark, gave her a sense both of satisfaction and of relief.

"I am glad," she said, somewhat irrelevantly, "very glad. But as

regards Monsieur Lelli, and this strange idea of responsibility towards

the daughter of one whom he knew many years ago--how can you explain

that? I feel sure that Monsignor Lelli is a good man, though I have

heard him much abused. But I have also heard people say that he has

been very hardly treated; and possibly his long exile here at Montefiano

may have made him somewhat morbid."

"Signora Principessa," said Silvio, approaching the armchair in which

she was sitting, "Don Agostino has authorized me to answer your

question, in the event of your asking it. Had it not been for this

authorization, I must have kept silence. It may be that his idea is a

morbid idea; or it may be that, as he is firmly convinced, he is being

guided by another intelligence than his own. Of that, princess, you

must be the judge," and taking the case Don Agostino had confided to him

from his pocket, he gave it into her hands.

Princess Montefiano opened it, and then she suddenly turned very pale.

"It is Bianca!" she exclaimed. "It is Bianca herself! Signor Rossano,"

she added, "what does this mean?"

"No," returned Silvio, in a low voice, "it is not Bianca."

Princess Montefiano did not notice his unconscious departure from the

formalities. She bent over the miniature and examined it attentively.

"No," she said, after a pause, "it is not Bianca--the face has not her

character in its expression. It is a weaker face. It is strange," she

continued, as though speaking to herself, "but I have never seen any

portrait of my husband's first wife; there is none at Palazzo

Acorari--and, of course, this is she. But how did the miniature come

into Monsignor Lelli's possession?" she added.

"Can you not guess, princess?" asked Silvio, gravely.

Princess Montefiano looked at him. "You mean--" she began, and then she

paused.

Silvio nodded. "Yes," he said.

The princess remained silent. She appeared to be deeply moved, for her

hands trembled as, after another intent look at the portrait, she closed

the case and returned it to Silvio.

He took it from her almost reverently. "Don Agostino told me to say to

you that you were to regard the miniature as his credentials; and," he

added, "as he hoped, my passport."

"Your passport?" repeated Princess Montefiano.

"Yes. If he had not known me to be worthy of Bianca--to be one who

would make her a good husband--he would not have delivered it to me,"

continued Silvio, quickly. "Listen, princess," and he rapidly told her

all that had passed between him and Don Agostino from the day when he

had first come to Montefiano and had been received into the _parroco's_

house. He told her how Don Agostino had shown him the miniature on that

occasion; and how the priest had from the first been convinced that he

was only obeying some unseen but powerful influence in giving him his

friendship and support.

Princess Montefiano listened to him without uttering a word; but she

never took her eyes off his countenance as he spoke.

As he ceased, she rose from her chair and held out her hand. "Thank

you, Signor Rossano," she said, gravely, but very courteously--"thank

you. You have been very frank with me, and I appreciate your

confidence. You stay with Monsignor Lelli to-night, is it not so?

Well, you and he will, I hope, give me the pleasure of seeing you here

at breakfast at twelve to-morrow. You will find me alone--me and

Bianca--for my brother will most probably be returning to Rome in the

morning."

Silvio bent over her hand and kissed it. "I will come with great

pleasure, princess," he said, "and I think I can answer for Don Agostino

that he also will do so."

A happy light shone in his eyes as he spoke. The princess looked at him

again and smiled slightly.

"I must think," she said, slowly. "Monsignor Lelli has fulfilled his

responsibilities, and you must both allow me to fulfil mine. To-morrow

we can talk of many things, and in a few days, Signor Rossano, I promise

you that I will give you an answer to a question which I know you are

longing to ask me."

With a slight inclination of her head, Princess Montefiano turned

towards the bell and rang it. A moment or two afterwards the

_maggior-domo_, who had been waiting in the adjoining room, opened the

double doors and conducted Silvio to the apartment where Don Agostino

was awaiting him.

*XXXVI*

A year had passed; and on the anniversary of the day that had witnessed

the forcible entry of the peasants into the court-yard of the castle at

Montefiano, a still larger and scarcely less noisy crowd was assembled

on the same spot. Now, however, instead of angry discussions and

threatening cries, laughter and jests resounded in the still air of a

mellow September morning. The entire population of Montefiano was

gathered together inside or around the castle walls, and the peasants

and farmers had come into the _paese_ from many an outlying village and

hamlet in the Sabina to assist at the wedding of the young Princess of

Montefiano.

The year that had passed had been a year of probation. True to her word,

the _principessa madre_, as she was now termed by the retainers and

dependants of Casa Acorari, had given Silvio her answer to his unasked

question some ten days or so after he had shown her Don Agostino's

so-called credentials. There had been, indeed, no doubt in Princess

Montefiano's mind from the moment of her interview with Silvio that he

and Bianca Acorari would marry one another in the future, even were she

to insist on withholding her consent to their union for the present.

Monsieur d'Antin had been right when he said to himself that his sister

was capable of rising to a situation. In this instance she had done so

at considerably less cost, either to her feelings or to her authority

than she had anticipated, for she had speedily come to conceive a strong

liking for Silvio, a liking which had only increased as she grew better

acquainted with him. Nevertheless, in withdrawing her opposition to his

marriage to her step-daughter, she had insisted that a year should

elapse before it should take place: and in this stipulation she had been

supported not only by Don Agostino, who, indeed, had counselled her to

make it, but also by the Senator Rossano. Professor Rossano was

determined that nobody should be able to say that his son was over eager

to ally himself with Casa Acorari, or with any other noble house; and

there was, moreover, another motive for delay, which neither he nor

Monsignor Lelli deemed it advisable to explain to the princess, although

they had been obliged to do so to Silvio.

The Abbe Roux had apparently been as good as his word when he declared

that he would cause all Rome to learn that Donna Bianca Acorari had

compromised herself by receiving, unknown to her relatives, the

addresses of a young man. Carefully veiled paragraphs had even appeared

in various Roman journals of the second rank, in which the clandestine

love-affair between the only daughter and last representative of a

princely house and the son of a well-known senator and scientist was

mysteriously hinted at. It did not need any great knowledge of the

world to realize what would infallibly be whispered were a marriage

between Donna Bianca Acorari and Silvio Rossano to be celebrated too

speedily.

Silvio himself had been the first to see the wisdom of allowing twelve

months to expire before Bianca should become his wife; and he, no less

than his father, had no desire to be supposed to be over anxious for the

alliance on account of its worldly advantages.

And so everything had been arranged satisfactorily for all the parties

chiefly concerned. Bianca herself, now that opposition to her

engagement was withdrawn, was quite content to listen to the advice of

those round her, especially as Silvio pointed out to her the wisdom of

delay. After the uncertainty of the past, the assurance that in a short

year they would be united for the remainder of their lives had seemed

almost too good to be true.

And the months had sped quickly enough. Silvio had pursued his

profession, and had won for himself an increased reputation; and Bianca

Acorari and the princess had been happier together than they had ever

been before, passing the time between Montefiano and the Villa Acorari

near Velletri, and visiting only at rare intervals the old palace in

Rome. Bianca had developed a great affection for her home at

Montefiano; and, much to the satisfaction of the population, the castle

had been gradually refurnished and put in order, and she had announced

her intention of making it her almost constant residence in future.

Afterwards, when she and Silvio were married, the princess dowager would

occupy an apartment in Palazzo Acorari at Rome, and, if she so chose,

the villa at Velletri, to both of which she had a right for her

lifetime. She and her brother, Baron d'Antin, had already decided that

they would live together until such time as Monsieur d'Antin should

elect to return to his native country.

A day or two before their wedding, Bianca had received a letter from

Monsieur d'Antin. It was a gay letter, full of congratulations and airy

trifles, but containing not even the most indirect allusion to the past.

Monsieur d'Antin was vexed beyond words--he assured his dear niece--that

he would be unable to interrupt the course of his baths at Aix, and thus

be present at her wedding; but the pores of his skin being now well

opened, it would be absolutely dangerous to travel so far. Bianca

showed the note to Silvio, who laughed and said nothing; but Don

Agostino, to whom he subsequently recounted the condition of Monsieur

d'Antin's skin, shrugged his shoulders and observed that the material in

question was assuredly too thick to be porous.

And now the year of waiting had passed. In Cardinal Acorari's chapel,

inside the castle, Monsignor Lelli was saying the few brief words that

would make Silvio Rossano and Bianca Acorari man and wife. The civil

marriage had already been performed by the _sindaco_ of Montefiano, the

day before, and now the crowd was waiting in the court-yard for the

appearance of the _sposi_.

Suddenly the doors at the top of the stone staircase were thrown back,

and shout after shout rent the air as Bianca and Silvio, followed by the

princess and Professor Rossano, Giacinta, and the remainder of the

witnesses of the religious ceremony appeared.

Bianca led her husband forward, and for a few moments they stood

together, bowing and smiling in response to the vociferous applause from

below.

Presently the cries of "_Evviva gli sposi!_" died away, to be succeeded

by cheers for the _principessa madre_ and for the Senator Rossano. Then

shouts of _"Evviva Don Agostino--evviva il nostro parroco_!" were

raised, as Don Agostino, more popular and beloved by his people than

ever, since the attack made upon him in that very place a year before,

advanced to where the young couple were standing.

He had removed his vestments, and his tall, black form stood out in

sombre contrast with the color of the bridal dresses and the flowers

round him.

For a moment or two he paused, holding both Silvio's and Bianca's hands

in his own.

"God, and the spirits of God, protect you both, in this life and in the

life to come," he said; and, dropping their hands, he made the sign of

the cross over them.

Then he turned, and, descending the steps, made his way quickly through

the crowd, and passed through the dark gateway into the golden sunlight

beyond.