XXXI
After leaving the Caffè Garibaldi, Don Agostino returned to his house in a very thoughtful frame of mind. He had promised to go himself to Princess Montefiano and put the peasants' case before her. He had promised, also, that he would speak with Donna Bianca Acorari personally. The question now arose how he was to accomplish what he had undertaken. The princess, it was true, could scarcely refuse to receive him without that refusal being a marked rudeness to him as parroco of Montefiano; at the same time, Don Agostino was perfectly aware that she had certainly not displayed any desire to make his personal acquaintance. He had duly left his card, as politeness required, after her arrival at the castle, and had received no invitation to repeat his visit. The fact had not surprised or annoyed him. He had been tolerably well acquainted with the Abbé Roux in the days when that ecclesiastic was the secretary to a cardinal who had always been his bitter enemy, and who, he well knew, had been more active than any one else at the Vatican in clamoring for his removal and disgrace. The acquaintance had not been a pleasant one, and certain details in the abbé's career which happened to have come to his knowledge had not made Don Agostino desirous of improving it.
It was not likely, therefore, that the Abbé Roux would welcome his presence at the castle of Montefiano, and he would doubtless have used his influence with the princess to prevent her from knowing him in any way than as a priest on Acorari property, who might sometimes have occasion to address a letter to her concerning the needs of his parishioners.
It was certainly from no personal motives that Don Agostino, as he walked back to his house that morning, felt almost nervously anxious lest he should be refused admittance to Princess Montefiano's presence. When he had sought to defend her against the accusations which he was well aware had been made against her of unmotherly conduct towards her step-daughter, he had done so because he believed these accusations to be, if not altogether unfounded, at least erroneous. He had always felt confident that the princess was a victim to her own religious enthusiasm; she had fallen an easy prey to a type of ecclesiastic with which his experience in Rome had brought him into contact on several occasions, and of which the Abbé Roux was no uncommon example. He was convinced that the moment had arrived when the Princess Montefiano's eyes might be opened, and when it might be demonstrated to her, beyond any possibility of doubt, that the counsellor in whom she had trusted had never been worthy of her confidence.
At the same time it was clear that the Abbé Roux was master of the actual situation, and that, having succeeded in getting rid of the one official at Montefiano who for thirty years had had the true interests of his employers at heart, it was not likely he would permit the princess to be approached by the parroco of Montefiano, who was known to regard the agent's dismissal as both a mistake and an injustice. The position, however, was serious; and all the more so because it was quite evident that neither the princess nor the abbé realized its gravity. Any rebellious attitude that the peasants might be driven by exasperation to assume could, it was true, be ultimately suppressed by the intervention of the military at the instance of the civil authorities of the commune. But Don Agostino well knew the legacy of hatred and smouldering resentment which such intervention almost invariably left behind it. If he could save his lost Bianca's child from the enduring unpopularity which her step-mother and the Abbé Roux were certainly doing their best to bring upon her by their mistaken policy regarding the administration of her property, he would certainly do so, at whatever cost to himself. Yes, at four o'clock that afternoon he would go to the castle. By that hour the princess would certainly be visible, if she chose to be visible. He would send up his card to her with an urgent request that she would see him on a matter of grave importance. If she refused to do so, he would write to her – but such a letter as would leave her no possibility of mistaking his meaning.
The afternoon's task was certainly neither an easy nor an agreeable one; but it must in some way or another be accomplished. At least, Don Agostino reflected, he would have done his duty to his people at Montefiano, to Bianca Acorari, and to that absent Bianca who had assuredly willed that he should strive to protect her child.
Don Agostino entered his garden through the little gate by the side of the church. As he approached the house, he was surprised to hear, through the open window of his study, Ernana talking in earnest tones inside the room. His surprise was still greater, however, when at the sound of his footsteps on the gravel-path, Silvio Rossano's form appeared at the window. For a moment, indeed, Don Agostino felt something very like dismay. There were complications enough and to spare without fresh material being added to increase their number. He had purposely delayed writing again to Silvio, thinking that in a day or two the threatened disturbances would have either subsided or assumed proportions which might make his presence at Montefiano desirable in his own and Bianca Acorari's interest. Don Agostino doubted very much, however, whether this was the moment for Silvio to be seen at Montefiano. If his presence became known at the castle, it would probably be regarded by the princess as a proof that the agitation among the peasants had a further scope than merely to obtain the redress of their own and Fontana's grievances. She would not unreasonably suspect that he, Don Agostino, was using the agitation as a means whereby to help Silvio Rossano in renewing his endeavors to marry her step-daughter. As a matter of fact, Don Agostino was quite prepared so to use it, if its results were such as to encourage him to do so. But it would most certainly not further Bianca's or Silvio's interests were it to be supposed that these interests were in any way connected with the business that would take Don Agostino to the castle that afternoon.
He hurried into the house and met Silvio in the little passage outside his study.
"Am I an unwelcome guest?" Silvio said to him, quickly. "I hope not, because – "
"You are always welcome," interrupted Don Agostino, "but – well, to tell you the truth, Silvio, I am not sure that I am very pleased to see you. But if I am not pleased, it is on your own account, not on mine. May one ask what has brought you here so unexpectedly, ragazzo mio?"
Silvio took a crumpled newspaper out of his pocket – the number of the Tribuna that his father had shown him the night before.
"That," he replied, briefly, handing the paper to Don Agostino, and pointing to the telegram dated from Montefiano.
Don Agostino read it. Then he uttered an exclamation of anger.
"Idiots!" he exclaimed; "idiots, and cowards, too! This is the Abbé Roux's doing, of course. Well, it is another blunder, an irremediable blunder. In two or three hours' time the report will be all over Montefiano that troops have been sent for. The afternoon post will bring the Tribuna– " He paused in evident agitation.
"I could not remain quietly in Rome after reading that," said Silvio. "So I took the morning train, and here I am. At first I could not understand what it all meant; for Bianca, though she mentioned that there was some trouble with the people because the Abbé Roux had persuaded her step-mother to dismiss the fattore, certainly did not write as if it was anything serious. All the same, I was uneasy, for one never knows what a small matter of this kind may not develop into. But Ernana, to whom I have been talking while waiting for you, has given me to understand that it is by no means a small matter, but that the people are really angry and threatening to force their way into the castle."
Don Agostino nodded. "Ernana is right," he said; "it is not a small thing. I fear, directly this telegram in the Tribuna becomes known, that it will speedily become a very much bigger thing."
"Then I am doubly glad that I am here," observed Silvio, quietly.
Don Agostino glanced at him. "A moment ago," he said, "I wished that you had not appeared upon the scene. I did not think the time had arrived for you to do so. It was for this reason I delayed writing to you. I had hoped that, whatever might occur, no military aid would be asked for in order to settle a question which only needed to be handled with a little tact and in a conciliatory spirit. This telegram, however, alters the aspect of affairs considerably, and, on the whole, yes, Silvio, I think I am glad you have come. But for the next few hours, at any rate, you must not show yourself. Do you think your arrival here has been observed?" he added.
Silvio shook his head. "I think not," he replied. "Indeed, I hardly met a soul on my way here from Attigliano."
"The people are all in the paese," said Don Agostino. "The peasants have come in from miles around. No, you must certainly not be seen – at all events, till I have been to the castle."
"You are going to the castle?" Silvio asked, in some surprise.
Don Agostino briefly related to him the events of the morning, and explained how, as a last hope of bringing about a pacific solution of the situation, and of making the princess realize the danger of the policy the Abbé Roux had made her adopt, he had volunteered to ask to see her and Bianca Acorari personally.
"It was by no means easy," he said, "to persuade the more excited among the people to consent to my going to the princess. They suspected me of being in sympathy with the Abbé Roux," he added, with a smile. "Fortunately, however, the sindaco supported me, and I persuaded a certain Mazza, who is practically the money-lender to all this district, and who for some reasons of his own is backing up the peasants, to advise the people to refrain from any further action until I had communicated to them the results of my interview with the princess. One thing is very certain," he continued, "I must, if possible, see Princess Montefiano before the news that troops have been asked for is known in the place. There is no saying what may not happen, in the mood the peasants are now in, should it be known that the princess has sought the intervention of the authorities rather than consent to receive a deputation."
"The telegram does not say that troops have actually been requisitioned," said Silvio; "it alludes to the probability of their being so, if the situation at Montefiano should not improve. It appears to me," he continued, "that the communication is something in the nature of a warning, or a threat, whichever you like to call it."
Don Agostino read the paragraph in the Tribuna again.
"That is true," he said, "and you are right, Silvio. Whoever communicated the intelligence to the Tribunaprobably intended it both as a warning and as a threat. Well, as the former, it will have very little effect. As the latter, it will have a very bad effect, for it will be bitterly resented, unless I am much mistaken. In the mean time, there is no time to be lost. We must trust to the people keeping quiet for another few hours, until I have been to the castle. But you, my friend, must remain quietly here, unseen by anybody. I shall tell Ernana she must hold her tongue about your arrival. For you have become a celebrity in Montefiano, Silvio," he added, with a smile, "and everybody would know what had brought you here."
"Ah," exclaimed Silvio, "that is a thing I do not understand! How in the world have the people here got to know about Bianca and myself? Certainly the princess would not allow it to be talked about by anybody belonging to her household; and who else, except yourself, knows of it?"
Don Agostino shrugged his shoulders. "It is known by everybody that Donna Bianca has declared that she will marry nobody if she does not marry you," he replied. "Indeed," he continued, "I believe it is this love-affair of the principessina, as they call her, that has done more than anything else to arouse the indignation of the people against the princess and her brother and against the Abbé Roux. As yet they have not seen the young Roman whom their padrona wishes for a husband instead of Baron d'Antin. When they do see him – But do not let us waste any more time in talking, Silvio. Before we do anything else, let us have breakfast. You must be quite ready for it after your journey, and it is nearly one o'clock."
A couple of hours later Don Agostino left his house, and, choosing a lane leading through the outskirts of the town, in order to avoid the groups of peasants which would still be thronging the main street, made his way to the castle, having extracted a promise from Silvio that the latter would not go into the paese until he had returned from his visit to the princess.
He could not help suspecting that his appearance at the entrance-gate of the castle was not altogether unexpected; for the two servants who, in response to his ringing the bell, drew back a lattice and surveyed him from the inside, promptly closed it, and threw open the great wooden doors studded with heavy iron nails, and as promptly closed and bolted them again as soon as he had passed into the court-yard.
Don Agostino informed them that he had come to see her excellency the princess on important business, and producing his card, asked that it might be taken to her at once, with the urgent request that she would receive him.
He was conducted across the court and up a flight of steps leading into a large hall on the first floor of the building, where he was left while the domestics went to execute their commission. In a few minutes one of the men returned. He was desired by her excellency to tell his reverence that she regretted being unable to receive him in person, but her brother, Baron d'Antin, and the Abbé Roux would be happy to see him in her place.
Don Agostino attempted to demur. It was of the greatest importance, he said, that he should see her excellency personally.
The venerable maggior-domo spread out his hands with an apologetic gesture. He was grieved, he declared, to be obliged to disappoint his reverence, but her excellency had given strict orders that she was not to be disturbed – that she could receive no one. The Signor Barone and the Abbé Roux were ready to receive his reverence, if he would be pleased to follow him.
Don Agostino hesitated for a moment. Then he came to the conclusion that he had better accept the compromise that had evidently been made. Perhaps, indeed, the princess's absence might be an advantage. He could speak very plainly to Monsieur d'Antin and to the Abbé Roux if it became necessary to do so – more plainly, perhaps, than he could have done had Princess Montefiano been present. At any rate, he was inside the castle, and had been offered an opportunity of discussing the situation with those who were chiefly responsible for its existence, and this was something gained.
He had thought it more than likely that he would not be admitted within the castle walls, and that he would have to return to the paese with the intelligence that he had failed in his mission.
He followed the maggior-domo through the long gallery, with which the hall where he had waited communicated, and was ushered into the room used by the Abbé Roux as his study. The abbé, however, was not present, and Monsieur d'Antin came forward and introduced himself. His sister, he assured Don Agostino, much regretted her inability to receive him, but the events of the last day or two had somewhat upset her – and, after all, if he were not mistaken, Monsignor Lelli's business was more suitable for discussion by himself and Monsieur l'Abbé Roux than by ladies – was it not so? Monsieur l'Abbé would join them in a few minutes. In the mean time, anything that Monsignor Lelli might wish to say, he, Baron d'Antin, would faithfully refer to the princess. Monsignore spoke French, of course? That was well, for Monsieur d'Antin's Italian was not sufficiently fluent to embark upon a business conversation. A cigarette? No? Well, if it was permitted, he would smoke one himself, and he was all attention, if monsignore would proceed.
Don Agostino sat and watched the baron quietly. Monsieur d'Antin was very suave – very polite, and nothing could be more conciliatory than his attitude. It seemed, indeed, as though he were tacitly apologizing for his sister's refusal to receive the parroco, and that he was only anxious to do his best to remove all misunderstandings. Don Agostino recognized the diplomatic manner, and, so to speak, took Baron d'Antin's measure before he had uttered a dozen words.
"Doubtless, monsieur," he said, "you are aware of the object of my visit. The importance of that object must be my excuse for seeking to intrude myself upon Madame la Princesse. I regret that she is unable to receive me, because it is to her and to Donna Bianca Acorari that I am, as it were, accredited by the people of Montefiano. However, one cannot question a lady's right to receive or to refuse to receive a visitor, especially if that visitor comes on an unpleasant errand.
"Monsieur le Baron, I think there is no necessity to waste words, and this is not the moment to discuss the rights and the wrongs of the questions which are agitating the minds of the people here at Montefiano. I have come to ask – nay, to implore the princess to reconsider her refusal to receive the deputation suggested by the peasants, and to allow me to tell the people that she and Donna Bianca will listen to their representatives. The people are within their rights, monsieur, and it is I, their priest, who tell you so. They have been treated unjustly in the name of Casa Acorari, and they appeal to the princess and to Donna Bianca Acorari for permission personally to represent their grievances."
Monsieur d'Antin nodded gravely. "I quite understand your view of the matter, Monsieur le Curé," he said. "It is natural that the sympathies of a priest should be with his people; but you must remember that my sister has to regard the question from a business, and not from the sentimental, point of view. Her position obliges her to think, first of all, of her step-daughter, Donna Bianca's, interests. Those in whom my sister confides to advise her in business matters connected with the Montefiano property, do not share your view as to any injustice having been committed."
"Because, monsieur," returned Don Agostino, bluntly, "Madame la Princesse confides in individuals who are ignorant as to the condition in which the people live, and who are, therefore, incompetent to advise her – "
At this moment the door opened, and the Abbé Roux entered the room. The greeting between him and Monsignor Lelli, if courteous, was certainly not cordial. It was some years since they had last beheld each other, but no allusion was made by either to their past acquaintance.
Monsieur d'Antin looked quickly at the abbé as he came into the room, and Don Agostino fancied that, as he returned the glance, the Abbé Roux shook his head almost imperceptibly.
"Monsignor Lelli," Monsieur d'Antin observed airily, "has come this afternoon as an ambassador from – what shall we call them, Monsieur l'Abbé – the rebels, eh? He wishes my sister to reconsider her refusal to receive their deputation."
"It would seem scarcely necessary for madame to do so," said the abbé, coldly. "Monsignor Lelli," he continued, "has apparently taken upon himself the functions of the deputation."
"Precisely, monsieur," observed Don Agostino, tranquilly. "It seemed to me not impossible that the princess and Donna Bianca Acorari might listen to my representations as parroco of Montefiano, even though the reception of a deputation might not be permitted by their advisers."
The Abbé Roux frowned angrily.
"Permitted, monsieur!" he repeated. "I do not understand you. The princess stands in no need of permission to act as she thinks fit and as may be advantageous to Donna Bianca's future interests. Nor do I understand why you assume Donna Bianca Acorari to have any voice in what the princess may choose to do as her guardian. You must surely be well aware that, until she is of age, Donna Bianca has absolutely nothing to say in the management of her properties. It is, therefore, absurd to drag her name into any question arising in connection with that management."
Don Agostino looked at him steadily. "I am aware that Donna Bianca does not enter into the full possession of her estates until she is of age – or until she marries," he said. "Nevertheless, the fact does not prevent her from being regarded by the people in and round Montefiano as their mistress – as the only child of and successor to the late Prince of Montefiano. And the people will insist on regarding her as such, and upon being permitted access to her.
"It is not for me, Monsieur l'Abbé, to discuss what may be your motives for advising the princess to pursue a course which is not only unjust to the people, but injurious to her step-daughter's true interests. I have come here this afternoon to warn the princess that the people intend to insist upon being heard, not by her only, but by Donna Bianca Acorari. They are loyal to Donna Bianca – but – you must pardon me for my plain speaking – they look upon the princess as a foreigner who allows foreign influence to interfere between them and their lawful padrona. At any moment, Monsieur l'Abbé, unless you advise the princess to adopt a more conciliatory course, you may hear this from the people themselves. They will tell it you more roughly than I have told it you."
The Abbé Roux laughed disagreeably. "You are very disinterested, monsignore," he remarked, "but I regret that I cannot accept your views upon business matters – and this affair of the peasants is purely a business – a financial – matter. You may very possibly be mistaken in your judgment, monsignore. It would not be the first time, I think, that you were mistaken in your estimate of sound finance. No, Madame la Princesse will not, I imagine, be disposed to accept your advice on such matters."
The sneer and the insinuation contained in the abbé's words were patent enough, and for a moment Don Agostino reddened with anger. He restrained himself with an effort, however. It was very evident that the Abbé Roux was losing his temper; and time, valuable time, was passing.
Don Agostino shrugged his shoulders, and then, turning his back upon the abbé, he addressed Monsieur d'Antin, whose face he had noticed with some surprise had worn a sudden but unmistakable look of disgust and contempt while the Abbé Roux was speaking.
"Monsieur le Baron," he said, quietly, "I appeal to you as to one who is not a professional man of business in the employ of Madame la Princesse, but who is her brother, and who may therefore not be altogether influenced by pecuniary considerations. I entreat you to take my warning to the princess, and to persuade her to allow me to return, while there is yet time, to the people, with the news that I have spoken with her and with Donna Bianca, and that she is prepared to make some concessions. I entreat you, also, to recall, in her name, the application which has been made for military aid – "
The abbé and Monsieur d'Antin both started. "How, monsieur?" exclaimed the abbé. "Military aid! What folly is this? Who talks of military aid having been applied for?"
Don Agostino drew Silvio's Tribuna from his soutane and gave it to Monsieur d'Antin.
"If it has not been actually applied for," he said, pointing to the telegram from Montefiano, "its requisition is threatened. That newspaper arrives in Montefiano every afternoon from Rome," he added, "and by this time the telegram will have been read by everybody in the paese."
The Abbé Roux muttered something very like an oath under his breath. Then he looked furtively, almost apologetically, at Don Agostino.
"Absurd!" he exclaimed. "A mere canard! Probably some occasional correspondent to the Tribuna, in Montefiano thought he would be very clever and anticipate events."
Don Agostino looked at him narrowly. It was clear that, whoever had sent the telegram to the Tribuna, the abbé was disagreeably surprised by its publication. He looked, indeed, both taken aback and ill at ease. Don Agostino, always watching him, saw him take out his watch and look at it, glancing at Monsieur d'Antin as he did so.
"Enfin, monsieur," said Don Agostino, again addressing Monsieur d'Antin, "once more I appeal to you as the brother of Madame la Princesse. Am I to go back to the people and tell them that I have obtained nothing, and that I have not been permitted to see either the princess or Donna Bianca? Monsieur," he added, earnestly, "let me beg of you to consider. So little is demanded of the princess – so much bitterness and misery will be the result of not giving way. At least send a telegram to countermand any despatch of troops to Montefiano, and authorize me to tell the people that the telegram in the Tribuna was communicated without there being any foundation for it."
Monsieur d'Antin rose from the arm-chair in which he had been smoking cigarettes unremittingly.
"One moment, my dear monsieur," he said to Don Agostino; "believe me, if the matter rested with me, you should go back to your peasants with hands full of concessions. But I have no influence with my sister in these matters. I do not think she understands them; that is true. But unfortunately she knows that I understand them even less than she does. After all, it is natural. We are not Italians, as you pointed out to Monsieur l'Abbé just now."
"It is not necessary to be Italian, monsieur, in order to understand when injustices are being committed. A little common sympathy and a little common-sense are all that is required in this instance; and these qualities are not the exclusive attribute of my compatriots," said Don Agostino, dryly.
The Abbé Roux came forward and placed himself between Don Agostino and Monsieur d'Antin.
"Monsieur le Baron," he said, casting an angry glance at Don Agostino, "it seems to me that we are wasting time. Monsignor Lelli has come here, apparently, with the object of attempting to induce the princess to give way to the insolent demands of these ignorant peasants, and to dictate to her what she should and should not do. Well, I, Monsieur le Baron, as you well know, am honored by the princess's confidence; and, as you also know, I am deputed by her excellency to give Monsignor Lelli her final and definite answer to his representations on behalf of the peasants and their friends."
Don Agostino interrupted him.
"How did the princess know that I was coming here to-day on behalf of the peasants?" he asked, abruptly.
The Abbé Roux looked suddenly perplexed; and Monsieur d'Antin joined the tips of his fingers together and laughed softly to himself. Don Agostino glanced at him keenly. Baron d'Antin's manner puzzled him. It was the manner that an amused spectator of a comedy might display, but it was certainly not fitting to one of the characters on the stage.
The abbé scowled. "Parbleu!" he exclaimed, roughly, "we are not all imbeciles here; and we are better informed as to what has been going on than Monsignor Lelli is aware! We know, for instance, that he did not hesitate to compromise his position as parroco by encouraging with his presence a meeting held this morning in a caffè by the leaders of this agitation, and that he took upon himself the responsibility of being their spokesman. Ah, yes, monsignore, the princess expected your visit this afternoon; but, as you see, she altogether declines to receive you in person."
Don Agostino turned to him with quiet dignity.
"So be it, Monsieur l'Abbé," he said, tranquilly. "The princess must take the responsibility of declining to receive me in person, and to allow me access to Donna Bianca Acorari. Nevertheless, I am here as the representative of Donna Bianca's people, and I will discharge my duty. I shall say, boldly – "
"To the princess and Donna Bianca? No, monsignore, you will not have the opportunity. It would be well that you should understand this finally."
"No, not to the princess and Donna Bianca, but to you!" continued Don Agostino. "You tell me that you are honored with the princess's entire confidence. I hope that she equally enjoys your own, Monsieur l'Abbé. If so, you will repeat to her what I say. As you are aware that I attended the meeting held this morning in the principal caffè of Montefiano, you are, no doubt, also aware of the attitude of the people towards the princess, towards Monsieur le Baron d'Antin, and towards yourself. You no doubt know that they regard you, Monsieur l'Abbé Roux, as a foreigner who has abused the confidence the princess has had in you as a priest, in order by degrees to fill your own pockets out of Donna Bianca Acorari's possessions and at the expense of the people. You doubtless know that they accuse you of being the real lessee of the rents paid by the tenants on this estate, and believe that the recent raising of those rents and the dismissal of the fattoreFontana, for having protested against any increase in the rent, was due to you. You will have heard, also, that you are credited with having devised a scheme whereby Donna Bianca Acorari is to marry Monsieur le Baron d'Antin in order to keep her patrimony in the family – so to speak – and enable you to continue to administer the properties for some years to come. Of course, Monsieur l'Abbé, you know all this, since you are well informed of what is being said and done in Montefiano."
The Abbé Roux's face while Don Agostino was speaking presented a study in some of the various feelings capable of being reflected on the human countenance. Anger, mortification, dismay – all these displayed themselves in turn as he listened to Don Agostino's words, each one of which was delivered with a calm incisiveness which added to the force of his speech.