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