XX
On emerging from the restaurant, the Rossanos found Don Agostino awaiting them.
"Giacinta told me I must pay the bill and come away," the professor said to him. "For myself," he added, "I should have preferred to remain another half-hour. That white wine is certainly good. May one ask, monsignore, what made you leave us so suddenly? Did you discover a cardinal of the holy office in disguise?"
Don Agostino laughed. "Not quite a cardinal," he replied, "but somebody very near to a cardinal."
"Do you mean the man who was with Baron d'Antin – the young man?" asked Silvio.
"Precisely," returned Don Agostino. "He is not quite so young as he looks, however," he continued. "In fact, he must be certainly ten or twelve years older. Do you know him, Silvio?"
"By sight, yes. I do not know who he is, but one sees him in the world here in Rome – sometimes with English people – old ladies with odd things on their heads, and their daughters who walk like carabinieri pushing their way through a crowd. Diamine, but how they walk, the English girls! Everything moves at once – arms, shoulders, hips – everything! It is certainly not graceful."
"Never mind the English girls, Silvio, since you are not going to marry one," interrupted Giacinta. "Who is Baron d'Antin's friend, monsignore?" she added.
Don Agostino hesitated. "His name is Peretti," he replied, "the Commendatore Peretti. He is very intimate with the cardinal secretary of state. Some people say that he supplies his eminence with useful information which he acquires in the world outside the Vatican. He gives Italian lessons, I am told, to Silvio's English ladies; also to members of the embassies to the king."
"A spy, in fact," observed Silvio.
Don Agostino shrugged his shoulders. "Mah!" he ejaculated. "In any case," he continued, "I did not particularly wish to be seen by him, for it would at once be known at the Vatican that I had been in Rome in your and your father's company, and – well, the less quelli signoriof the Vatican interest themselves in your affairs, Silvio, the better for you. For me it does not matter."
"It seems to me that it has mattered very much," growled the professor.
"And you think he did not see you?" said Silvio. "Ah, but you are mistaken, Don Agostino. He did see you, and he pointed you out to Baron d'Antin; and the baron saw me, too."
Don Agostino looked at him quickly.
"But you told me that Monsieur d'Antin did not know you by sight," he exclaimed.
"I thought he did not know me, because I did not know him by sight," returned Silvio; "but I was mistaken," he added. "It is true that I never saw Monsieur d'Antin before to-night, to my knowledge, but he has seen me. I saw that he knew me by the expression in his eyes when he looked at me, and I am quite sure that he whispered my name to his friend – Peretti, is it?"
"Ah!" said Don Agostino, "it is certainly unfortunate that they should have seen us together. One never knows – "
"They looked at me in such a way that for two soldi I would have gone up to them and asked what they wanted of me – and then there would have been a row. Yes, Giacinta, for two soldi I would have boxed both their ears – a soldofor each of them," and Silvio's eyes began to flash ominously.
"Less than a soldo," observed his father, quietly. "They have four ears, Silvio. That would be at the rate of two centesimi and a half for each ear. All the same, I am glad you did not do it."
"I thought he would have done it," said Giacinta, in an undertone to Don Agostino, "but I made him come away at once."
Don Agostino looked grave. "I do not understand," he said to Silvio. "How could Monsieur d'Antin know you if you had never seen him before?"
"Che ne so io?" answered Silvio, carelessly – "and what does it matter?" he added, with a laugh. "He probably knows now that I should like to break his head, just as I know that he would like to break mine."
"Not for anything that he would find inside it," interposed the professor, dryly. "Via, Silvio, what is there to wonder at if Baron d'Antin looks at you with some curiosity? He has probably heard his sister speak of you as a lunatic!"
Silvio and Don Agostino glanced at each other. The latter laid his hand on Professor Rossano's arm. "Caro senatore," he said, "we shall do well not to discuss these things here. Let us walk back to Palazzo Acorari; or, still better, let us prolong our walk a little and go to the Forum. I honestly admit that by daylight I detest the Forum – the archæologists have turned it into a hideous affair. But by moonlight it is another matter. I think Domeneddio must have made the moonlight in order to allow the Romans to forget for a few hours that archæologists exist."
Professor Rossano laughed. "Let us go to the Forum, by all means," he observed. "There will be no archæologists at this hour. They will all be calling one another idiots and impostors elsewhere – perhaps in the salon of the Countess Vitali."
It was not to be supposed that the professor and Giacinta would walk from the Castello di Costantino to the Foro Romano; although Don Agostino, accustomed to long expeditions on foot in the Sabines, and Silvio, who could walk the whole day provided that he were carrying a gun, would have thought nothing of doing so. Professor Rossano however, seldom used his legs if he could avail himself of any other means of locomotion, and on the first opportunity he stopped a passing botte and directed the driver to set them down at the Colosseum. Guttural shouts from a party of German tourists about to enter the building caused the professor to turn away from it with an impatient shrug of the shoulders. Much as he admired the scientific and philosophical attainments of the Germans, in common with most Italians he disliked them intensely as a nation. The offending Teutons disappeared into the Colosseum as Professor Rossano and his companions walked slowly towards the arch of Titus. The ruins in the Forum looked ghostly and unreal in the moonlight. In front, the great square mass of the Capitol loomed grimly, while from the dark, cypress-crowned Palatine on their left came the mournful cries of owls flitting to and fro in the roofless halls of the palace of the Cæsars.
"You are sure that Baron d'Antin recognized you?" Don Agostino asked of Silvio, who had stopped to light a cigar, while his sister and the professor walked on a little ahead of them.
"As sure as I am that you were recognized by your little spy, Peretti," Silvio replied. "What puzzles me," he added, "is how he could know me."
"It is not very strange, considering that you live in Palazzo Acorari."
"But I am sure that I have never seen him," insisted Silvio. "After all," he continued, "it does not matter very much; and I do not suppose it matters if Peretti recognized you."
"Except that the accident of his having seen me in your company might lead to my being moved from Montefiano to some other still more remote place," said Don Agostino, quietly.
Silvio looked blank. "Why should it do that?" he asked.
Don Agostino smiled. "One never knows," he said. "The Princess Montefiano has no doubt many friends at the Vatican. If it were suggested to her that I was on friendly terms with you and your family, she might very easily bring about my removal from Montefiano. I wish we had not gone to the Costantino, Silvio. I have a presentiment that our encounter with Monsieur d'Antin and that little busybody, Peretti, may add to our difficulties."
"At any rate," said Silvio, "we will return to Montefiano to-morrow, Don Agostino, and I must find some means of communicating with Bianca. We know now that Baron d'Antin is in Rome and not at Montefiano. Probably," he added, "he has understood by this time that Bianca would not be induced to listen to him."
"If he has," observed Don Agostino, "the fact is not likely to make him feel very friendly towards a more successful suitor. No, Silvio, be guided by me; and do not do anything in a hurry. Remember that if it were discovered that you are living with me at Montefiano, I should certainly be removed from my duties there, of that I am quite sure; and my removal would be a misfortune. Perhaps I can do more for you at Montefiano than you can do for yourself – yet."
"But if you never go to the castle," began Silvio.
"I have never been as yet," returned Don Agostino, "but that does not mean to say that I am never going there. Besides, sooner or later what happens in the castle will be talked about in the paese. It is a mere question of time. And what is talked about in the paese sooner or later is talked about to Ernana," he added, with a smile. "How, for instance, do you suppose I knew that Monsieur d'Antin proposed to marry Donna Bianca Acorari? I do not often listen to Ernana's gossip, for if she were encouraged she would doubtless tell a great deal, and some of it would probably be true – not much, but some of it."
Silvio gave an impatient exclamation.
"How can the princess tolerate the idea of such a marriage?" he burst out, angrily. "I can understand her objecting to me – but surely it is more natural that her step-daughter should marry a young man than that old – "
"Precisely!" interrupted Don Agostino. "You have exactly defined the situation. I, too, understand the objection to you – from a worldly point of view – as a husband for Donna Bianca Acorari. But you are not the only young man in the world, my dear Silvio. There are many others, possessing better social qualifications, from whom the princess could select a husband for her step-daughter. It was assuredly not necessary to fall back upon Baron d'Antin, even in order to get rid of you! No, there must be some other reason for sacrificing the girl – for indeed I call it a sacrifice. It seems to me, Silvio, that we should discover that reason before you attempt to communicate again with Donna Bianca. Until we know it, we are working in the dark. I have my suspicions what the reasons may be; but they are at the best but vague suspicions, which probably I have no right to entertain."
Silvio looked at him keenly.
"What are they?" he asked, briefly.
Don Agostino hesitated. "I said that I had probably no right to entertain them," he repeated. "I do not wish to wrong anybody, but it has sometimes struck me that possibly there may be money difficulties – that it would not be convenient to the administrators of the Montefiano estates were Donna Bianca to marry a stranger."
"Money difficulties!" repeated Silvio. "You mean that perhaps Bianca's property has been interfered with – that she would not be as rich as she was supposed to be when she comes of age? Is that what you mean, Don Agostino?"
"Partly – yes."
Silvio's eyes gleamed blue in the moonlight. "Magari!" he exclaimed, simply.
Don Agostino looked at him for a moment, and then he smiled.
"You would be glad?" he asked.
"Of course I should be glad – I should be delighted," returned Silvio. "If it were not for her money," he continued, "it would all have been so simple – do you not see what I mean? Of course there are the titles – but anybody can have titles. I know a cab-driver in Naples who is a marchese, an absolutely genuine marchese, of Bourbon creation. But the money makes it another affair altogether."
"The money makes it another affair altogether," repeated Don Agostino; "that is very true." He spoke more as though talking to himself than to Silvio.
"Perhaps," continued Silvio, "if the princess and her Belgian confessor could be made to understand that I do not want Bianca's money – that I have enough of my own both for her and for myself – they would not be so anxious to marry her to that old baron. So you see, Don Agostino, my reason for being glad if there has been some mismanagement of the Montefiano properties."
Don Agostino looked at him with a smile.
"Yes, Silvio," he said, "I see your reason – it is one that I should have expected from you. But it is not a good reason."
Silvio glanced at him with surprise.
"Not a good reason!" he repeated. "And why not? It seems to me to be a very natural reason. I want Bianca Acorari herself. I do not want her money, and I would not accept one of her titles."
"It is a very natural reason, yes – for a galantuomo," returned Don Agostino, "but it is not one that will appeal to those who are not galantuomini. You must remember that dishonest people do not easily credit others with honesty. In this case I cannot help suspecting – it is a suspicion only – that Monsieur d'Antin has some hold over his sister, and perhaps also over the Abbé Roux. Moreover, you must recollect that Donna Bianca has evidently aroused – well, a certain passion in him; and the passion of an elderly man for a young girl – "
Silvio Rossano muttered something under his breath. It was not complimentary to Baron d'Antin.
"It is no use to fly into a rage – none at all," proceeded Don Agostino, tranquilly. "We must look at things as they are, and human nature is a complicated affair. What we have to do is to find out, so to speak, all the cards that Monsieur d'Antin holds in his hand. I do not wish to be uncharitable, but it is scarcely credible that the princess would encourage, or even tolerate, her brother's aspirations, were he not able to bring some more convincing argument to bear upon her and the Abbé Roux than the mere fact that he had conceived a sudden passion for her step-daughter."
"Yes," said Silvio, thoughtfully; "I see what you mean. You are more clever at reasoning than I am," he added.
Don Agostino smiled. "I am considerably older than you are, ragazzo mio," he replied; "and," he continued, "I am not in love with Bianca Acorari, though her welfare is very dear to me, for – for her mother's sake." He paused, and Silvio saw him make the sign of the cross almost imperceptibly.
"I think," Don Agostino continued, "that you would do well not to return with me to Montefiano to-morrow. If Baron d'Antin knew that you were in the neighborhood, and especially if he knew that you were in my house – it would certainly not make things easier."
Silvio's face fell. "But what am I to do?" he exclaimed. "I had meant – "
"Yes," interrupted Don Agostino, "let us hear what you had meant to do at Montefiano – or rather, I will tell you. You had meant by some means to obtain another interview with Donna Bianca – to persuade her to escape with you, perhaps – and that I should marry you. In fact, you had a whole romance in your head. Is it not true?"
Silvio laughed. "Something of the sort, I admit," he answered.
"Well," continued Don Agostino, decidedly, "it will not do; it will not do at all. We are not characters in a novel, and we can afford to act like ordinary human beings who are face to face with a difficulty, but who are also not quite sure of their ground. In real life it is wonderful how things settle themselves if we will only be patient and allow them to do so. No; you are not the hero in a romance, and it is not necessary for you to bring about a situation lest the public should become tired of you. The situation will probably come of itself —per forza maggiore."
"And am I to sit down and do nothing, and leave the field clear for Baron d'Antin?" asked Silvio.
"For a short time – for a few days, perhaps – yes."
"But you forget," Silvio interrupted, quickly. "Bianca is expecting to hear from me in some way. I promised her I would communicate with her. That is now nearly a month ago, and as yet I have been unable to send her a single word, for a letter would certainly never reach her – that is to say, until I can find some trustworthy person who would give it to her."
"Write your letter, and I will undertake that it reaches her," said Don Agostino.
"You!" exclaimed Silvio.
"Yes; I will be your messenger. Yesterday I would not have undertaken to help you so far. You can probably guess why, Silvio."
"Because you were not sure of me – that I was worthy of your help?"
"Oh, as to that, I was always sure from the first," said Don Agostino, quietly. "I am very seldom mistaken in my first impressions of people whom I care to study, and I studied you. But I was determined not to act on my impressions until they should have been confirmed by your father. I always told you as much, if you remember."
"And now they are confirmed? I am glad," said Silvio, simply.
Don Agostino smiled. "Amply," he replied, laying his hand affectionately on Silvio's shoulder. "Be guided by me, figlio mio," he continued. "Remain quietly here in Rome until I tell you to come to Montefiano. In the mean time, I will do all I can for you. It may be very little, or it may be more than you think; I cannot tell as yet. Write your letter to-night, and I will take it with me to-morrow morning. You quite understand, however, that it may be some days before I have an opportunity of conveying it safely to its destination, so you must not be impatient."
"You will see that I shall be patient," said Silvio. "It was the apparent impossibility of being able to communicate with Bianca that has made me impatient. It was natural, for the weeks were passing, and after what you told me about Baron d'Antin, I dared not leave Bianca much longer without fulfilling my promise that she should hear from me. However, now that I know that our affairs are in your hands, I will be as patient as you please."
"That is well," replied Don Agostino, briefly. "And, above all, Silvio," he added, "do not confide in anybody. Do not move from Rome until you receive a letter from me bidding you come to Montefiano, or to some other place in its neighborhood that I will name in the letter. Dunque, siamo intesi? Then let us catch up with the others. It is growing late, and I must return to my hotel. You can bring me your letter to-morrow morning. I shall leave Rome by the eight-o'clock train, and it will be wiser for you to come only to the hotel, and not accompany me to the railway station. The less we are seen together now the better. It is a strange thing, but the accident of having met those two individuals to-night has made me feel uncomfortable."
"What harm can they do?" said Silvio, carelessly. "If Monsieur d'Antin had seen us together at Montefiano, then he might well have been suspicious; but here, in Rome, we are – "
"In Rome," interrupted Don Agostino, dryly; and he said no more than might be implied by a slight shrug of the shoulders and a quick gesture with the hands.
The professor and Giacinta had halted at this moment. By this time they had reached the upper end of the Forum, and a few paces more would bring them out into the Via S. Teodoro, close to the narrow flight of steps leading up to the piazza of the Capitol.
As soon as Don Agostino and Silvio joined them, Professor Rossano begged the former to return with them to Palazzo Acorari, but Don Agostino declined. It was time for him to go back to his hotel, he declared, and Silvio, rightly guessing that he did not wish to run any risks of again being seen with them, forebore from seconding his father's invitation. After bidding the professor and Giacinta a cordial farewell, Don Agostino stopped a passing cab, and directed the driver to the Albergo Santa Chiara, a modest little hotel near the Minerva, largely frequented by foreign priests and pilgrims.
"I will be with you at seven o'clock to-morrow morning," said Silvio to him as he got into the cab. Don Agostino nodded, and, raising his broad beaver hat, drove away.
"There," said the professor, jerking his head in the direction of the disappearing botte, "is another of them."
"Another of whom, Babbo?" asked Giacinta.
"Why, another honest man, with a head upon his shoulders, too, whom those priests across the Tiber have driven away!" replied Professor Rossano, angrily.
"Why did he leave the Vatican?" asked Silvio. "He would never tell me his story at Montefiano, but always said that you would remember it well enough."
"Remember it? Of course I remember it!" returned the professor. "At one time all Rome was talking of Monsignor Lelli. They declared at the Vatican that he had speculated and lent money on bad security from the funds intrusted to him; accused him, in short, of a carelessness almost equivalent to fraud. But everybody knew that he had been forced to use the money in the way it was used, and that he was afterwards disgraced when things went contrary to expectations. Che vuoi?"
Silvio said nothing. His thoughts were occupied with the letter he would write to Bianca Acorari that night, and he wondered how Don Agostino would find the means of giving it, or causing it to be safely delivered. It was a disappointment to him not to return to Montefiano on the morrow, but he could not but feel that Don Agostino was right in advising him to remain quietly in Rome. It would certainly not help matters were his only friend at Montefiano to be suddenly transferred to some other post; and Silvio knew enough of his world fully to realize how important a part intrigue and personal animosities played, not only at the Vatican, but also in every phase of Roman life.
The clocks were striking ten when they reached Palazzo Acorari, and though nobody thinks of going home at ten o'clock on a summer night in Rome, or anywhere else in Italy, Silvio Rossano accompanied his father and sister up the dimly lighted staircase to their apartment. The professor was anxious to continue the correction of his proofs, and Silvio was longing to begin his letter to Bianca Acorari.
Apparently, however, he had something else on his mind; for, after the professor had retired to his library, he followed Giacinta into her sitting-room, a little room opening off the drawing-room. Giacinta, who was tired after her walk, took off her hat and the light wrap she was wearing, and settled herself comfortably in an arm-chair; while Silvio, after lighting a cigarette, began to pace somewhat restlessly up and down the room. It was very evident that he had something to say, and Giacinta, who knew her brother's moods, sat waiting for it in silence.
"I am not going back to Montefiano with Don Agostino to-morrow," he began, presently.
"I did not know that you intended to do so," observed Giacinta.
"Of course I intended to do so!" Silvio returned. "However," he continued, "Don Agostino thinks it wiser that I should not return just yet, and I believe he is right. He is going to take a letter from me to Bianca."
Giacinta glanced at him with a smile. "No doubt you think he is right in that also," she observed.
Silvio laughed. "How like you are to Babbo, sometimes!" he exclaimed. "Yes, I think he is quite right. The only thing is, Giacinta – " and he paused, hesitatingly.
"That you would not know what to say in the letter?"
"Ah, no! Well, perhaps I do not know what to say. If it amuses you to think so, I am quite content. The question is, that I want to send something to Bianca – something that I value. You understand? I have given her nothing as yet – I have not even written to her. I want to send her something – with my letter – something that belonged to our mother. It is so easy to walk into a shop and buy a bit of jewelry, but it is not the same thing – "
"I understand," said Giacinta, quietly.
"And so," continued Silvio, a little hurriedly, "I thought that if I sent her one of our mother's rings – you have all her jewelry, Giacinta, have you not? You could spare me one of the rings, perhaps?"
"They are as much yours as mine," answered Giacinta. "Babbo gave the jewelry into my charge; you know there are pearls and other things. Wait, and I will bring you the case from my room, and then you can see for yourself."
She got up from her chair and went into the next room, returning presently with an old case covered with faded red velvet and fastened with heavy clasps of gilded metal.
"Ecco!" she said, holding out to Silvio an elaborately ornamented key, also heavily gilded. "You must turn it three times in the lock before it will open the box. In the upper tray there are the rings, and below are the pearls."
"The pearls can remain where they are," observed Silvio. "You will want them when you marry," he added, as he unlocked and opened the case. "I will take this ring," he continued, pointing to an old "marquise" ring, on which a sapphire was mounted in the centre of a cluster of white Brazilian diamonds. "The rest you will keep, but this one I will send to Bianca and tell her that it belonged to my mother. You do not mind, Giacinta?"
With a sudden movement Giacinta turned and kissed him. "Why should I mind?" she exclaimed; "only – "
"Only what?" asked Silvio, as she paused.
"Only I wish you had sought for a wife elsewhere," she continued, earnestly. "Those people – they will despise you, because they are noble and we are not. You will never be allowed to marry Donna Bianca Acorari, Silvio! Never, I tell you! That priest and Baron d'Antin, they will never permit it. The girl will not be allowed to marry anybody, unless it be Monsieur d'Antin. You will see."
"Sciocchezze!" exclaimed Silvio, contemptuously. "What have I often told you, Giacinta?" he continued. "Bianca and I can afford to wait until she is her own mistress. If they were to attempt to force her to marry Baron d'Antin or anybody else, then we would go away and get some priest to marry us. The civil marriage could wait. I have told you so a hundred times."
Giacinta was silent for a moment. Then she said, suddenly:
"I am glad you are not going back to Montefiano. It was wise of Don Agostino, as you call him, to advise you to remain here."
"Oh, but I shall go back there very soon," returned Silvio. "In a few days Don Agostino will write to me to come. You see, Bianca must be protected from that old baron. She will be glad to know that I am near her, even if we cannot see each other."
"Do not go, Silvio!" Giacinta exclaimed, almost passionately. "You will be mad to go! Ah, but I saw Baron d'Antin's expression when he recognized you! I could see that he recognized you – and you, you looked at him as if you would have struck him."
Silvio laughed. "And I could have struck him – very hard," he replied, "for he stared at me in an insolent manner. Of course, I shall return to Montefiano, Giacinta, whenever Don Agostino writes to me that I can do so. I cannot imagine what you are afraid of."
Giacinta smiled slightly. "After all," she said, "I hardly know myself! But there is some mystery – something I do not understand. I am afraid that it is money – that they want to keep Donna Bianca's money. Oh, not the princess! She is only a fool. But these others, the Abbé Roux and Monsieur d'Antin, they are not fools. And if it is money, and you stand in their way – well, who knows what people will not do for money? They might murder you at Montefiano, and who would be the wiser?"
Silvio laughed again. "Scarcely, Giacinta mia," he replied. "If they tried to put me out of the way, several people would be the wiser, and some of them – Don Agostino, for instance – would make awkward inquiries. Via!we are not in the Middle Ages; and the son of the Senator Rossano is not a completely obscure person who could be made away with with impunity. I assure you that you need not be alarmed. Now I must go and write my letter, for at seven o'clock to-morrow morning I have to be at the Albergo Santa Chiara, for Don Agostino leaves Rome at eight. Buona notte, Giacinta, e buon riposo, and do not get foolish ideas into your head, or you will lie awake."
And so saying, Silvio went off to his own room, taking with him the ring he had selected from his mother's jewel-case.