Orsino posted his letter with an odd sensation of relief. He felt that
he was once more in communication with humanity, since he had been able
to speak out and tell some one of the troubles that oppressed him. He
had assuredly no reason for being more hopeful than before, and matters
were in reality growing more serious every day; but his heart was
lighter and he took a more cheerful view of the future, almost against
his own better judgment.
He had not expected to receive an answer from Maria Consuelo for some
time and was surprised when one came in less than ten days from the date
of his writing. This letter was short, hurriedly written and carelessly
worded, but there was a ring of anxiety for him in every line of it
which he could not misinterpret. Not only did she express the deepest
sympathy for him and assure him that all he did still had the liveliest
interest for her, but she also insisted upon being informed of the state
of his affairs as often as possible. He had spoken of three
possibilities, she said. Was there not a fourth somewhere? There might
often be an issue from the most desperate situation, of which no one
dreamed. Could she not help him to discover where it lay in this case?
Could they not write to each other and find it out together?
Orsino looked uneasily at the lines, and the blood rose to his temples.
Did she mean what she said, or more, or less? He was overwrought and
over-sensitive, and she had written thoughtlessly, as though not
weighing her words, but only following an impulse for which she had no
time to find the proper expression. She could not imagine that he would
accept substantial help from her--still less that he would consent to
marry her for the sake of the fortune which might save him. He grew very
angry, then turned cold again, and then, reading the words again, saw
that he had no right to attach any such meaning to them. Then it struck
him that even if, by any possibility, she had meant to convey such an
idea, he would have no right at all to resent it. Women, he reflected,
did not look upon such matters as men did. She had refused to marry him
when he was prosperous. If she meant that she would marry him now, to
save him from ruin, he could not but acknowledge that she was carrying
devotion near to its farthest limit. But the words themselves would not
bear such an interpretation. He was straining language too far in
suggesting it.
"And yet she means something," he said to himself. "Something which I
cannot understand."
He wrote again, maintaining the tone of his first letter more carefully
than she had done on her part, though not sparing the warmest
expressions of heartfelt thanks for the sympathy she had so readily
given. But there was no fourth way, he said. One of those three things
which he had explained to her must happen. There was no hope, and he was
resigned to continue his existence of slavery until Del Ferice's death
brought about the great crisis of his life. Not that Del Ferice was in
any danger of dying, he added, in spite of the general gossip about his
bad health. Such men often outlasted stronger people, as Ugo had
outlived Donna Tullia. Not that his death would improve matters, either,
as they stood at present. That he had explained before. If the count
died now, there were ninety-nine chances out of a hundred that Orsino
would be ruined. For the present, nothing would happen. In little more
than a month--in six weeks at the utmost--a new arrangement would be
forced upon him, binding him perhaps for years to come. Del Ferice had
already spoken to him of a great public undertaking, at least half of
the contract for which could easily be secured or controlled by his
bank. He had added that this might be a favourable occasion for Andrea
Contini and Company to act in concert with the bank. Orsino knew what
that meant. Indeed, there was no possibility of mistaking the meaning,
which was clear enough. The fourth plan could only lie in finding
beforehand a purchaser for buildings which could not be so disposed of,
because they were built for a particular purpose, and could only be
bought by those who had ordered them, namely persons whom Del Ferice so
controlled that he could postpone their appearance if he chose and drive
Orsino into a failure at any moment after the completion of the work.
For instance, one of those buildings was evidently intended for a
factory, and probably for a match factory. Del Ferice, in requiring that
Contini and Company should erect what he had already arranged to dispose
of, had vaguely remarked that there were no match factories in Rome and
that perhaps some one would like to buy one. If Orsino had been less
desperate he would willingly have risked much to resent the suave
insolence. As it was, he had laughed in his tyrant's face, and bitterly
enough; a form of insult, however, to which Ugo was supremely
indifferent. These and many other details Orsino wrote to Maria
Consuelo, pouring out his confidence with the assurance of a man who
asks nothing but sympathy and is sure of receiving that in overflowing
measure. He no longer waited for her answers, as the crucial moment
approached, but wrote freely from day to day, as he felt inclined.
There was little which he did not tell her in the dozen or fifteen
letters he penned in the course of the month. Like many reticent men who
have never taken up a pen except for ordinary correspondence or for the
routine work of a business requiring accuracy, and who all at once begin
to write the history of their daily lives for the perusal of one trusted
person, Orsino felt as though he had found a new means of expression and
abandoned himself willingly to the comparative pleasure of complete
confidence. Like all such men, too, he unconsciously exhibited the chief
fault of his character in his long, diary-like letters. That fault was
his vanity. Had he been describing a great success he could and would
have concealed it better; in writing of his own successive errors and
disappointments he showed by the excessive blame he cast upon himself,
how deeply that vanity of his was wounded. It is possible that Maria
Consuelo discovered this. But she made no profession of analysis, and
while appearing outwardly far colder than Orsino, she seemed much more
disposed than he to yield to unexpected impulses when she felt their
influence. And Orsino was quite unconscious that he might be exhibiting
the defects of his moral nature to eyes keener than his own.
He wrote constantly therefore, with the utmost freedom, and in the
moments while he was writing he enjoyed a faint illusion of increased
safety, as though he were retarding the events of the future by
describing minutely those of the past. More than once again Maria
Consuelo answered him, and always in the same strain, doing her best,
apparently, to give him hope and to reconcile him with himself. However
much he might condemn his own lack of foresight, she said, no man who
did his best according to his best judgment, and who acted honourably,
was to be blamed for the result, though it might involve the ruin of
thousands. That was her chief argument and it comforted him, and seemed
to relieve him from a small part of the responsibility which weighed so
heavily upon his shoulders, a burden now grown so heavy that the least
lightening of it made him feel comparatively free until called upon to
face facts again and fight with realities.
But events would not be retarded, and Orsino's own good qualities tended
to hasten them, as they had to a great extent been the cause of his
embarrassment ever since the success of his first attempt, in making him
valuable as a slave to be kept from escaping at all risks. The system
upon which the business was conducted was admirable. It had been good
from the beginning and Orsino had improved it to a degree very uncommon
in Rome. He had mastered the science of book-keeping in a short time,
and had forced himself to an accuracy of detail and a promptness of
ready reference which would have surprised many an old professional
clerk. It must be remembered that from the first he had found little
else to do. The technical work had always been in Contini's hands, and
Del Ferice's forethought had relieved them both from the necessity of
entering upon financial negotiations requiring time, diplomatic tact and
skill of a higher order. The consequence was that Orsino had devoted the
whole of his great energy and native talent for order to the keeping of
the books, with the result that when a contract had been executed there
was hardly any accountant's work to be done. Nominally, too, Andrea
Contini and Company were not responsible to any one for their
book-keeping; but in practice, and under pretence of rendering valuable
service, Del Ferice sent an auditor from time to time to look into the
state of affairs, a proceeding which Contini bitterly resented while
Orsino expressed himself perfectly indifferent to the interference, on
the ground that there was nothing to conceal. Had the books been badly
kept, the final winding up of each contract would have been retarded for
one or more weeks. But the more deeply Orsino became involved, the more
keenly he felt the value and, at last, the vital importance, of the
most minute accuracy. If worse came to worst and he should be obliged
to fail, through Del Ferice's sudden death or from any other cause, his
reputation as an honourable man might depend upon this very accuracy of
detail, by which he would be able to prove that in the midst of great
undertakings, and while very large sums of money were passing daily
through his hands, he had never received even the very smallest share of
the profits absorbed by the bank. He even kept a private account of his
own expenditure on the allowance he received from his father, in order
that, if called upon, he might be able to prove how large a part of that
allowance he regularly paid to poor Contini as compensation for the
unhappy position in which the latter found himself. If bankruptcy
awaited him, his failure would, if the facts were properly made known,
reckon as one of the most honourable on record, though he was pleased to
look upon such a contingency as a certain source of scandal and more
than possible disgrace.
Unconsciously his own determined industry in book-keeping gave him a
little more confidence. In his great anxiety he was spared the terrible
uncertainty felt by a man who does not precisely know his own financial
position at a given critical moment. His studiously acquired outward
calm also stood him in good stead. Even San Giacinto who knew the
financial world as few men knew it watched his youthful cousin with
curiosity and not without a certain sympathy and a very little
admiration. The young man's face was growing stern and thoughtful like
his own, lean, grave and strong. San Giacinto remembered that night a
year and a half earlier when he had warned Orsino of the coming danger,
and he was almost displeased with himself now for having taken a step
which seemed to have been unnecessary. It was San Giacinto's principle
never to do anything unnecessary, because a useless action meant a loss
of time and therefore a loss of advantage over the adversary of the
moment. San Giacinto, in different circumstances, would have made a
good general--possibly a great one; his strange life had made him a
financier of a type singular and wholly different from that of the men
with whom he had to deal. He never sought to gain an advantage by a
deception, but he won everything by superior foresight, imperturbable
coolness, matchless rapidity of action and undaunted courage under all
circumstances. It needs higher qualities to be a good man, but no others
are needed to make a successful one. Orsino possessed something of the
same rapidity and much of a similar coolness and courage, but he lacked
the foresight. It was vanity, of the most pardonable kind, indeed, but
vanity nevertheless which had led him to embark upon his dangerous
enterprise--not in the determination to accomplish for the sake of
accomplishing, still less in the direct desire for wealth as an ultimate
object, but in the almost boyish longing to show to his own people that
there was more in him than they suspected. The gift of foresight is
generally weakened by the presence of vanity, but when vanity takes its
place the result is as likely to be failure as not, and depends almost
directly upon chance alone.
The crisis in Orsino's life was at hand, and what has here been finally
said of his position at that time seemed necessary, as summing up the
consequences to him of more than two years' unremitting labour, during
which he had become involved in affairs of enormous consequence at an
age when most young men are spending their time, more profitably perhaps
and certainly more agreeably, in such pleasures and pursuits as mother
society provides for her half-fledged nestlings.
On the day before his final interview with Del Ferice Orsino wrote a
lengthy letter to Maria Consuelo. As she did not receive it until long
afterwards it is quite unnecessary to give any account of its contents.
Some time had passed since he had heard from her and he was not sure
whether or not she were still in Egypt. But he wrote to her,
nevertheless, drawing much fictitious comfort and little real advantage
from the last clear statement of his difficulties. By this time, writing
to her had become a habit and he resorted to it naturally when over
wearied by work and anxiety.
On this same day also he had spent several hours in talking over the
situation with Contini. The architect, strange to say, was more
reconciled with his position than he had formerly been. He, at least,
received a certain substantial remuneration. He, at least, loved his
profession and rejoiced in the handling of great masses of brick and
stone. He, too, was rapidly making a reputation and a name for himself,
and, if business improved, was not prevented from entering into other
enterprises besides the one in which he found himself so deeply
interested. As a member of the firm, he could not free himself. As an
architect, he could have an architect's office of his own and build for
any one who chose to employ him. For his own part, he said, he might
perhaps be more profitably employed upon less important work; but then,
he might not, for business was very bad. The great works in which Del
Ferice kept him engaged had the incalculable advantage of bringing him
constantly before the public as an architect and of keeping his name,
which was the name of the firm, continually in the notice of all men of
business. He was deeply indebted to Orsino for the generous help given
when the realities of profit were so greatly at variance with the
appearances of prosperity. He would always regard repayment of the money
so advanced to him as a debt of honour and he hoped to live long enough
to extinguish it. He sympathised with Orsino in his desire to be freer
and more independent, but reminded him that when the day of liberation
came, he would not regret the comparatively short apprenticeship during
which he had acquired so great a mastery of business. Business, he said,
had been Orsino's ambition from the beginning, and business he had, in
plenty, if not with profit. For his own part, he was satisfied.
Orsino felt that his partner could not be blamed, and he felt, too, that
he would be doing Contini a great injury in involving him in a failure.
But he regretted the time when their interests had coincided and they
had cursed Del Ferice in common and with a good will. There was nothing
to be done but to submit. He knew well enough what awaited him.
On the following morning, by appointment, he went with a heavy heart to
meet Del Ferice at the bank. The latter had always preferred to see
Orsino without Contini when a new contract was to be discussed. As a
personal acquaintance he treated with Orsino on a footing of social
equality, and the balance of outwardly agreeable relations would have
been disturbed by the presence of a social inferior. Moreover, Del
Ferice knew the Saracinesca people tolerably well, and though not so
timid as many people supposed, he somewhat dreaded a sudden outbreak of
the hereditary temper; if such a manifestation really took place, it
would be more agreeable that there should be no witnesses of it.
Orsino was surprised to find that Ugo was out of town. Having made an
appointment, he ought at least to have sent word to the Palazzo
Saracinesca of his departure. He had indeed left a message for Orsino,
which was correctly delivered, to the effect that he would return in
twenty-four hours, and requesting him to postpone the interview until
the following afternoon. In Orsino's humour this was not altogether
pleasant. The young man felt little suspense indeed, for he knew how
matters must turn out, and that he should be saddled with another
contract. But he found it hard to wait with equanimity, now that he had
made up his mind to the worst, and he resented Del Ferice's rudeness in
not giving a civil warning of his intended journey.
The day passed somehow, at last, and towards evening Orsino received a
telegram from Ugo, full of excuses, but begging to put off the meeting
two days longer. The dispatch was from Naples whither Del Ferice often
went on business.
It was almost unbearable and yet it must be borne. Orsino spent his time
in roaming about the less frequented parts of the city, trying to make
new plans for the future which was already planned for him, doing his
best to follow out a distinct line of thought, if only to distract his
own attention. He could not even write to Maria Consuelo, for he felt
that he had said all there was to be said, in his last long letter.
On the morning of the fourth day he went to the bank again. Del Ferice
was there and greeted him warmly, interweaving his phrases with excuses
for his absence.
"You will forgive me, I am sure," he said, "though I have put you to
very great inconvenience. The case was urgent and I could not leave it
in the hands of others. Of course you could have settled the business
with another of the directors, but I think--indeed, I know--that you
prefer only to see me in these matters. We have worked together so long
now, that we understand each other with half a word. Really, I am very
sorry to have kept you waiting so long!"
"It is of no importance," answered Orsino coolly. "Pray do not speak of
it."
"Of importance--no--perhaps not. That is, as you could not lose by it,
it was not of financial importance. But when I have made an engagement,
I like to keep it. In business, so much depends upon keeping small
engagements--and they may mean quite as much in the relations of
society. However, as you are so kind, we will not speak of it again. I
have made my excuses and you have accepted them. Let that end the
matter. To business, now, Don Orsino--to business!"
Orsino fancied that Del Ferice's manner was not quite natural. He was
generally more quiet. His rather watery blue eyes did not usually look
so wide awake, his fat white hands were not commonly so active in their
gestures. Altogether he seemed more nervous, and at the same time better
pleased with himself and with life than usual. Orsino wondered what had
happened. He had perhaps made some very successful stroke in his
affairs during the three days he had spent in Naples.
"So let us now have a look into your contracts, Don Orsino," he said.
"Or rather, look into the state of the account yourself if you wish to
do so, for I have already examined it."
"I am familiar enough with the details," answered the young man. "I do
not need to look over everything. The books have been audited as you
see. The only thing left to be done is to hand over the work to you,
since it is executed according to the contract. You doubtless remember
that verbal part of the agreement. You receive the buildings as they now
stand and our credit cash if there is any, in full discharge of all the
obligations of Andrea Contini and Company to the bank--acceptances
coming due, balance of account if in debit, and mortgages on land and
houses--and we are quits again, my firm being discharged of all
obligation."
Del Ferice's expression changed a little and became more grave.
"Doubtless," he answered, "there was a tacit understanding to that
effect. Yes--yes--I remember. Indeed it was not altogether tacit. A word
was said about it, and a word is as good as a contract. Very well, Don
Orsino--very well. Since you desire it, we will cry quits again. This
kind of business is not very profitable to the bank--not very--but it is
not actual loss."
"It is not profitable to us," observed Orsino. "If you do not wish any
more of it, we do not."
"Really?"
Del Ferice looked at him rather curiously as though wishing that he
would say more. Orsino met his glance steadily, expecting to be informed
of the nature of the next contract to be forced upon him.
"So you really prefer to discontinue these operations--if I may call
them so," said Del Ferice thoughtfully. "It is strange that you should,
I confess. I remember that you much desired to take a part in affairs,
to be an actor in the interesting doings of the day, to be a financial
personage, in short. You have had your wish, Don Orsino. Your firm plays
an important part in Rome. Do you remember our first interview on the
steps of Monte Citorio? You asked me whether I could and would help you
to enter business. I promised that I would, and I have kept my word. The
sums mentioned in those papers, here, show that I have done all I
promised. You told me that you had fifteen thousand francs at your
disposal. From that small beginning I have shown you how to deal with
millions. But you do not seem to care for business, after all, Don
Orsino. You really do not seem to care for it, though I must confess
that you have a remarkable talent. It is very strange."
"Is it?" asked Orsino with a shade of contempt. "You may remember that
my business has not been profitable, in spite of what you call my
talent, and in spite of what I know to have been hard work."
Del Ferice smiled softly.
"That is quite another matter," he answered. "If you had asked me
whether you could make a fortune at this time, I would have told you
that it was quite impossible without enormous capital. Quite impossible.
Understand that, if you please. But, negatively, you have profited,
because others have failed--hundreds of firms and contractors--while you
have lost but the paltry fifteen thousand or so with which you began.
And you have acquired great knowledge and experience. Therefore, on the
whole, you have been the gainer. In balancing an account one takes but
the sordid debit and credit and compares them--but in estimating the
value of a firm one should consider its reputation and the goodwill it
has created. The name of Andrea Contini and Company is a power in Rome.
That is the result of your work, and it is not a loss."
Orsino said nothing, but leaned back in his chair, gloomily staring at
the wall. He wondered when Del Ferice would come to the point, and begin
to talk about the new contract.
"You do not seem to agree with me," observed Ugo in an injured tone.
"Not altogether, I confess," replied the young man with a contemptuous
laugh.
"Well, well--it is no matter--it is of no importance--of no consequence
whatever," said Del Fence, who seemed inclined to repeat himself and to
lengthen, his phrases as though he wished to gain time. "Only this, Don
Orsino. I would remind you that you have just executed a piece of work
successfully, which no other firm in Rome could have carried out without
failure, under the present depression. It seems to me that you have
every reason to congratulate yourself. Of course, it was impossible for
me to understand that you really cared for a large profit--for actual
money--"
"And I do not," interrupted Orsino with more warmth than he had hitherto
shown.
"But, in that case, you ought to be more than satisfied," objected Ugo
suavely.
Orsino grew impatient at last and spoke out frankly.
"I cannot be satisfied with a position of absolute dependence, from
which I cannot escape except by bankruptcy. You know that I am
completely in your power. You know very well that while you are talking
to me now you contemplate making your usual condition before crying
quits, as you express it. You intend to impose another and probably a
larger piece of work on me, which I shall be obliged to undertake on the
same terms as before, because if I do not accept it, it is in your power
to ruin me at once. And this state of things may go on for years. That
is the enviable position of Andrea Contini and Company."
Del Ferice assumed an air of injured dignity.
"If you think anything of this kind you greatly misjudge me," he said.
"I do not see why I should judge otherwise," retorted Orsino. "That is
exactly what took place on the last occasion, and what will take place
now--"
"I think not," said Del Ferice very quietly, and watching him.
Orsino was somewhat startled by the words, but his face betrayed
nothing. It was clear to him that Ugo had something new to propose, and
it was not easy to guess the nature of the coming proposition.
"Will you kindly explain yourself?" he asked.
"My dear Don Orsino, there is nothing to explain," replied Del Ferice
again becoming very bland.
"I do not understand."
"No? It is very simple. You have finished the buildings. The bank will
take them over and consider the account closed. You stated the position
yourself in the most precise terms. I do not see why you should suppose
that the bank wishes to impose anything upon you which you are not
inclined to accept. I really do not see why you should think anything of
the kind."
In the dead silence which followed Orsino could hear his own heart
beating loudly. He wondered whether he had heard aright. He wondered
whether this were not some new manoeuvre on Del Ferice's part by which
he must ultimately fall still more completely under the banker's
domination. Ugo doubtless meant to qualify what he had just said by
adding a clause. Orsino waited for what was to follow.
"Am I to understand that this does not suit your wishes?" inquired Ugo,
presently.
"On the contrary, it would suit me perfectly," answered Orsino
controlling his voice with some difficulty.
"In that case, there is nothing more to be said," observed Del Ferice.
"The bank will give you a formal release--indeed, I think the notary is
at this moment here. I am very glad to be able to meet your views, Don
Orsino. Very glad, I am sure. It is always pleasant to find that
amicable relations have been preserved after a long and somewhat
complicated business connexion. The bank owes it to you, I am sure--"
"I am quite willing to owe that to the bank," answered Orsino with a
ready smile. He was almost beside himself with joy.
"You are very good, I assure you," said Del Ferice, with much
politeness. He touched a bell and his confidential clerk appeared.
"Cancel these drafts," he said, giving the man a small bundle of bills.
"Direct the notary to prepare a deed of sale, transferring all this
property, as was done before--" he hesitated. "I will see him myself in
ten minutes," he added. "It will be simpler. The account of Andrea
Contini is balanced and closed. Make out a preliminary receipt for all
dues whatsoever and bring it to me."
The clerk stared for one moment as though he believed that Del Ferice
were mad. Then he went out.
"I am sorry to lose you, Don Orsino," said Del Ferice, thoughtfully
rolling his big silver pencil case on the table. "All the legal papers
will be ready to-morrow afternoon."
"Pray express to the directors my best thanks for so speedily winding up
the business," answered Orsino. "I think that, after all, I have no
great talent for affairs."
"On the contrary, on the contrary," protested Ugo. "I have a great deal
to say against that statement." And he eulogised Orsino's gifts almost
without pausing for breath until the clerk returned with the preliminary
receipt. Del Ferice signed it and handed it to Orsino with a smile.
"This was unnecessary," said the young man. "I could have waited until
to-morrow."
"A matter of conscience, dear Don Orsino--nothing more."