Approaching Silvio, who was standing apart, he said to him, hurriedly: "Do not go away, figlio mio, you may be wanted to plead your own cause."
And without waiting to offer any further explanations, he followed the princess and the others into the castle.
XXXIV
Of those who accompanied Princess Montefiano into one of the drawing-rooms on the piano nobile of the castle, Monsieur d'Antin certainly appeared to be the least embarrassed. Throughout the crisis which had just been overcome he had preserved an imperturbable air of composure, and almost, indeed, of indifference. The Abbé Roux glanced at his confederate every now and then with an expression at once of bewilderment and resentment on his countenance. Nevertheless, to judge by his demeanor, Monsieur d'Antin appeared to be completely at his ease, and even, in a quiet way, to be enjoying the situation in the development of which he found himself called upon to assist.
"If you have no objection, my dear Jeanne," he observed airily, to his sister, "I will smoke. It calms the nerves." And, producing his case, he proceeded to light a cigarette in a leisurely and deliberate manner.
Monsieur d'Antin's action seemed to break the spell of embarrassment that had fallen upon those around him. The princess, it was true, had already shown herself to be no longer the weak, pliable individual that even her brother had been accustomed to consider her. The suspicion, now almost a conviction, that she had been deceived, that her authority had been exploited and undermined by the person in whom she had placed all her confidence and reliance, appeared to have had the effect of arousing in Princess Montefiano that spirit of imperiousness which in reality was inherent in her nature, as it has almost invariably been in that of the deeply religious of both sexes and of all creeds – being, after all, but a form of intellectual vanity wearing the garb of holiness. To say the truth, Monsieur d'Antin had been not a little surprised at the change in his sister's attitude. He had expected that she would altogether decline to listen to any evidence that should tell against the Abbé Roux. He had not quite understood that great as was the glamour of the priesthood in his sister's eyes, her own authority and power were yet greater, and that she would not readily condone any action tending to infringe or diminish them.
Moreover, Baron d'Antin had not fully realized how strong was Princess Montefiano's sense of her duty towards her husband's child, or how genuine was her desire fully to act up to that sense. He had always regarded Jeanne's marriage as one of those desperate remedies which single women of a certain age were apt to take as a palliative for evils not invariably of a physical nature; and, being quite aware that his sister had very little real affection for her step-daughter, he had often wondered whether Bianca's existence must not be, as it were, something of a thorn in the flesh.
But if Monsieur d'Antin was surprised at his sister's change of attitude, he was still more astonished at the blunder committed by the Abbé Roux in basing his schemes to enrich himself at Bianca Acorari's expense on so unsound a foundation. He had always taken it for granted that the Abbé Roux was feathering his own nest, but he had never troubled himself to ascertain the details of the process adopted by that ecclesiastic, though he was convinced that in some way or another the abbé had succeeded in making money out of his position in the Montefiano household. Indeed, Monsieur l'Abbé had not attempted to deny that Donna Bianca's marriage to a stranger would not at all suit the objects he had in view. Monsieur d'Antin was perfectly aware that he was dealing with a rogue – but he had at least given the abbé the credit of being a clever rogue, though perhaps not quite as clever as himself. He certainly would not have believed that the priest would have allowed himself to be outwitted, as he evidently had been outwitted, by a bankrupt mercante di campagna, to whom he had been presumably paying a commission for the use of his name. This was a folly and an irretrievable blunder; and Monsieur d'Antin, who was certainly not lacking in astuteness, on hearing Stefano Mazza's confident assertions, had at once realized that the game had reached the stage of rien ne va plus. If he were to continue to maintain friendly relations with Jeanne – and it certainly would not be to his advantage that these relations should cease – he must walk warily. And the Abbé Roux? Well, the Abbé Roux must pay the penalty usually inflicted upon the unsuccessful – he must be disowned.
To be sure, he would have liked to possess Bianca; but, as Monsieur d'Antin had told himself more than once lately, this was obviously impossible of attainment. He was conscious of being no match for the girl's quiet, determined will, and he dared not make any second attempt to force his passion upon her. No, it would be better, more diplomatic, to retire gracefully from the contest while there was yet time; and the present moment surely afforded opportunity for a man of ready resource to do so.
In the mean while, Princess Montefiano had been the object of a keener observation than that of Monsieur d'Antin. Don Agostino had noted every expression of her countenance, every inflection of her voice, almost every movement of her person since she had descended into the court-yard. He had marked the succession of feelings called forth by the discovery that she had been deceived where she had most trusted; he had followed the struggle between her sense of justice, her wounded pride, her disgust and mortification at finding that her confidence had been abused by one whose sacred calling had been used as a means whereby to exploit it. And Don Agostino, far from blaming her former weakness, had sympathized with her in his heart, for he felt that he understood all she was suffering, every phase of her trial. Perhaps it had been some sense of this silent sympathy that had made Princess Montefiano more than once turn to him as though intuitively seeking the aid of the man she had so short a time before refused to receive. If Monsieur d'Antin had found his sister's attitude when brought face to face with her difficulties superb, as he had expressed it, Don Agostino had been scarcely less struck by her courage and unexpected assumption of dignity; and he was fully able to appreciate both the one and the other. It was clear to him that there was nothing mean about Princess Montefiano, and that, once persuaded that wrong had been done, she would right it at whatever cost to her own feelings. Indeed, Don Agostino was fain to admit that both the princess and Monsieur d'Antin showed sang de race in a difficult and embarrassing situation. Nevertheless, he felt himself entirely unable to account for Monsieur d'Antin's apparent composure and indifference, knowing, as he now did, of the pact existing between him and the Abbé Roux, whereby Bianca Acorari was, if possible, to be sacrificed.
Don Agostino's reflections were disturbed by the princess addressing him.
"Monsignore," she said, quietly, "we can now discuss, in private, matters which it was not fitting to discuss before my step-daughter. I must ask you to explain the meaning of certain expressions you have used regarding Donna Bianca Acorari. I do not wish you to be under any misapprehension, so it will be perhaps as well that I should tell you that my brother has had my full consent in wishing to make Donna Bianca his wife. You appear to be aware that my step-daughter has allowed herself to form another attachment in – in an entirely undesirable quarter. I am her guardian, and without my consent she cannot marry until she is twenty-one. This, monsignore, was a special clause to her father's will."
"Madame, I am under no misapprehension," returned Don Agostino. "It is rather you who are so and I regret to be obliged to say what will give you pain to hear."
"Continue, monsignore," said Princess Montefiano, as he paused.
"You ought to know, madame, that if you have been persuaded to sanction a union between Baron d'Antin and your step-daughter, it is because such a union would have enabled the Abbé Roux to continue for some years to farm the rents of Donna Bianca's lands. Briefly, madame, you have been tricked by the Abbé Roux, and, I regret to say, by your brother, who, in return for the abbé's assistance in persuading you to allow such a marriage, engaged not to interfere with his lease of the rents for a certain period, before the expiration of which Donna Bianca would long have attained her majority. The danger of her marrying an honest gentleman of good family, who has been represented to you as an adventurer and a nobody, has been perpetually put forward with the object of gaining your consent to what your own sense of justice, of propriety, madame, would otherwise have forbidden you to contemplate."
Princess Montefiano started up from her chair. "Monsignore!" she exclaimed; "do you know what you are saying? You forget that you are accusing my brother of a villanous action! Philippe," she continued, passionately, "tell Monsignor Lelli that he is mistaken – tell him that he lies, if you like – but do not let me think that you, my brother, have also deceived me – that you could lend yourself to such a horrible intrigue – "
"My dear Jeanne!" interrupted Monsieur d'Antin. "My dear Jeanne!" he repeated, and then he laughed softly.
"It is incredible – monstrous! I will not believe it!" Princess Montefiano exclaimed, with increasing agitation.
Monsieur d'Antin blew a ring of smoke into the air from his cigarette. "Monsignor Lelli is mistaken, Jeanne," he observed, tranquilly; "one can say as much to him without offence. But to say that he lies would not be permissible. It would be – well, an exaggeration. Before replying to his accusation, I should like to ask Monsignor Lelli on what grounds he bases it. He does not, I presume, derive his information from Monsieur l'Abbé Roux?"
Don Agostino looked at him steadily.
"I derive my information from those who have overheard conversations between you and the Abbé Roux – conversations carried on, as you believed, in private – in which your plans were very fully discussed. Can you deny, monsieur, that the arrangement I have named exists between you and the Abbé Roux?"
Monsieur d'Antin shrugged his shoulders. "I have not the least intention of denying it," he observed, calmly.
"Philippe!" exclaimed the princess.
The abbé started forward. "Imbécile!" he muttered, under his breath.
"It is perfectly true," pursued Monsieur d'Antin, ignoring him. "I entered into the compact with Monsieur l'Abbé, the nature of which Monsignor Lelli has described fairly accurately. You see, my dear Jeanne," he continued, "I have not your reverence for the clergy, and I thought it possible – just possible – that Monsieur l'Abbé Roux was – well, taking advantage of your belief in the apostolic succession. Is not that the correct term? By degrees I became convinced of it. It amused me to see how far Monsieur l'Abbé, with a little encouragement, would go; and I – yes, I myself – proposed to him the arrangement which Monsignor Lelli has just disclosed. It was eagerly jumped at, my little proposal," and Monsieur d'Antin rubbed his hands together gently, with a quiet chuckle.
"It is a lie!" cried the abbé, furiously. "You confessed to me that you were in love with Donna Bianca, and asked me to use my influence with the princess to remove her objections to your becoming the husband of her step-daughter."
"And you gave me absolution," returned Monsieur d'Antin, dryly. "Ah, yes, you certainly gave me absolution – but conditionally, Monsieur l'Abbé, always conditionally, you know!"
"But, Philippe," interrupted Princess Montefiano, "I do not understand. You told me yourself that you loved Bianca – that you would only be happy when she consented to be your wife."
"Quite true, my dear Jeanne," Monsieur d'Antin replied. "What would you have? I do not wear the soutane, so I have no protection against the weaknesses of the flesh. Yes, your step-daughter is charming, adorable – but her charms are not for me. She has made that very clear to me. It is deplorable, but I have failed, and there is nothing left for me but to retire in favor of a more fortunate rival. But my failure has nothing to do with the point – nothing at all. If Monsieur l'Abbé wants further explanations of my conduct in allowing him to believe that in return for his assistance in my unlucky affair of the heart I should not interfere with his affairs of the pocket, I am quite ready to give them to him. But, monsieur," he added, as the Abbé Roux, white with rage and mortification, attempted to interrupt him, "do not forget that in giving me absolution when I made my little confession to you of my passion for Donna Bianca, you stipulated for something in return. It is always so, is it not? One is not supposed to come to le bon Dieu empty handed. You made it clear that without your support I could never hope to gain my sister's consent to my object, and that you were only disposed to accord this support on the condition of my not interfering with your rights over the rents of the Montefiano lands.
"Well, I agreed; but I agreed under that most convenient of all compromises – a mental reservation. A la guerre comme à la guerre, n'est-ce pas, Monsieur l'Abbé? Ha, ha, ha!" and Monsieur d'Antin laughed good-humoredly.
The Abbé Roux remained silent. Perhaps he was thinking that the suspicions he had at times entertained as to whether it were not Monsieur d'Antin who was manipulating him rather than he Monsieur d'Antin, had turned out to be entirely justifiable.
In the mean time, Don Agostino had been regarding Monsieur d'Antin with a peculiar expression, which was certainly not that of a person convinced of the truth of what he had just heard.
"You wish me to understand, then," he said to him, dryly, "that you merely pretended to fall in with the Abbé Roux's suggestions, in order to ascertain how far your suspicions that he was abusing his position as confidential adviser to Madame la Princesse were correct?"
Monsieur d'Antin turned to him with admirable dignity.
"Assuredly, monsignore," he replied. "Do you presume, then, to suppose that I should lend myself to a conspiracy to deceive my own sister, and to enrich an unworthy individual at her and Donna Bianca Acorari's expense? No, monsieur! I may have my little weaknesses where women are concerned, and I frankly admit that had Donna Bianca not rejected my advances I should have considered myself a very happy man. But where my honor is concerned, Monsieur le Curé, or the honor of my family, I, Philippe d'Antin, have no weaknesses!"
Don Agostino looked at him hard, and his finely moulded lips curved in an ironical smile.
"I make you my compliments, Monsieur le Baron," he said, quietly. "One sees that you have done your best to protect yourself from possible misconstructions being placed upon your actions."
Monsieur d'Antin bowed and smiled benignly.
"Precisely," he said, suavely. "You, monsignore, as a man of the world, will understand – "
"Everything," interposed Don Agostino, with a slight shrug of the shoulders.
At this moment Princess Montefiano, who had been listening attentively to all that had passed, suddenly rose from her chair.
"Monsieur l'Abbé," she said, coldly, "I have heard enough to convince me that I need no longer trouble you for your advice or assistance in the management of my affairs.
"No, monsieur," she continued, as the abbé tried to speak, "excuses are useless. My confidence has been abused; and you have presumed to mislead me in the exercise of my authority over my step-daughter and her affairs for motives of your own. You may return to Rome, monsieur, since your services here are no longer required. You will have ample time to drive to Attigliano and take the evening train."
"Madame!" exclaimed the Abbé Roux.
"Not a word, sir," returned the princess, imperiously. "I trusted you as a friend and as a priest. You have proved yourself unworthy of that trust, and it is enough. Until the last moment – until the troops were within these walls – you have lied to me – yes, lied. And for what? In order to make money; in order – "
Princess Montefiano's voice failed her, and, suddenly overcome, she sat down in her chair. The Abbé Roux advanced towards her.
"Yes," he said, in accents trembling with anger and mortification – "yes, I will go to Rome, and all Rome shall hear how Donna Bianca Acorari has compromised herself, and how she has given herself to the first man who crossed her path. You may turn me out of your house, madame, but you cannot close my mouth. And you," he added, turning to Monsieur d'Antin, "you are a liar and a coward!"
Baron d'Antin shrugged his shoulders. "And you, Monsieur l'Abbé," he replied, "are a priest; otherwise – "
"Philippe," said the princess, in a hard, dry voice, "will you be so kind as to ring the bell?"
"Madame!" vociferated the abbé again.
The princess took no notice of him, and the maggior-domoanswered the summons with suspicious promptitude.
"Giovanni," Princess Montefiano said, "a carriage will be wanted to take the Signor Abate and his luggage to Attigliano in time for the evening train to Rome.
"Monsieur," continued the princess, "I will detain you no longer. You have doubtless arrangements to make for your departure."
For a moment the Abbé Roux seemed as though about to make an appeal to her. Then, without uttering a word, he walked hastily across the apartment and disappeared through the double doors leading into the dining-room, beyond which the room he had occupied as his study was situated.
He had scarcely gone when Princess Montefiano turned to her brother and Don Agostino.
"He will ruin that poor girl's reputation!" she exclaimed, bitterly, "and all Rome will say that I have neglected my duty towards her because she is not my own child."
"It will be very easy to prevent anything of the kind, princess," said Don Agostino, quickly.
The princess looked at him. "And how, monsignore?" she asked.
"By allowing Donna Bianca to marry the man she loves," returned Don Agostino, "the man who would make her an absolutely worthy husband."
"The son of an infidel professor? Never, monsignore!" exclaimed Princess Montefiano, emphatically. "Besides," she added, and then, pausing abruptly, she glanced at Monsieur d'Antin.
Don Agostino looked at him also, and as their eyes met Baron d'Antin averted his own. He read an expression of warning in Don Agostino's glance, a silent hint that, however successfully he might have deceived his sister in his adroit repudiation of any genuine compact having existed between the Abbé Roux and himself, he had not for an instant deceived Monsignor Lelli.
"Monsieur le Baron has already announced his readiness to accept Donna Bianca's refusal to entertain his offer," Don Agostino observed. "Is it not so?" he added, addressing Monsieur d'Antin.
The latter nodded. "You surely would not wish me to force my love upon Bianca?" he said to his sister. "You know, Jeanne, that she will have none of it, and I – well, I must submit," and he sighed.
"No, no, Philippe, of course I should not wish that," the princess replied, hurriedly. "Indeed," she continued, "I am relieved. I never approved of your proposal, and I would never have consented to it, had not the Abbé Roux insisted that Bianca had hopelessly compromised herself."
"But how compromised herself, madame?" interrupted Don Agostino, almost angrily. "Because your step-daughter has given her love to one who loves and respects her, whom she, too, loves, and who is worthy of her love, in what or how has she compromised herself? But these are fables, princess, malicious insinuations, invented for the purpose of advancing the schemes of that – that imbroglione who has just left us. At least, receive young Rossano, madame, and hear what he has to say for himself. It is only justice – justice to him and to Donna Bianca. Why ruin the happiness of two young lives because of caste prejudices, and especially when the difference is one of rank only – for the Rossano are an old and well-born family, lacking nothing but a title to make them the equals of the Acorari."
Princess Montefiano shook her head.
"A man may take his wife from the bourgeoisie," she said, "and it does not matter so much. But a woman loses caste by marrying beneath her. But it is not the question of difference in position only," she continued. "You, monsignore, cannot expect a stanch Catholic, such as I am, to consent to my step-daughter's marriage to the son of a notorious sceptic and freemason."
"The Senator Rossano may be a sceptic," said Don Agostino, "but he is certainly not a freemason, and he is certainly not antichristian."
"Not a freemason?" repeated the princess. "But, monsignore, I have been told that he is one of the most prominent of that abominable organization. I have heard that he is a frequent attendant at those blasphemous orgies in Rome in which sacrileges are committed that I dare not name."
Don Agostino smiled. "The Abbé Roux was no doubt your informant," he observed. "I have known Professor Rossano for many years, and he is most certainly not a freemason. The statement that he is so is as false and fantastic as the legends concerning the orgies and sacrileges to which you have just alluded. May I suggest, princess, that you would do well not to take the assertions of the Abbé Roux too seriously?"
Princess Montefiano colored. "It would indeed seem so," she replied, bitterly. "Philippe," she added, suddenly, turning to her brother, "what is your advice? Shall I do as Monsignor Lelli wishes, and receive Signor Rossano?"
Monsieur d'Antin glanced at Don Agostino.
"Really, Jeanne," he replied, "you are putting my generosity to a severe test, and I should prefer, under the circumstances, to offer no advice. However, I will be generous; and since the young man is here – well, you might take the opportunity of forming your own judgment as to his suitability to become the husband of your step-daughter. At least, I beg of you to spare me the ordeal of being present at your interview. Really, the events of this afternoon have been sufficiently disturbing to the nerves. With your permission, I will retire to my own room and leave Monsignor Lelli to support you during your conversation with my fortunate rival. But, before I leave you, there are one or two little points that I should like to have explained to me, and no doubt Monsignor Lelli can explain them.
"In the first place," continued Monsieur d'Antin, "you, monsignore, say that you derive your information from some person or persons who overheard conversations between me and the Abbé Roux – conversations which we believed to be held in private. I confess that I do not understand how this could be the case; although I can perfectly understand how any third person overhearing certain conversations I have had with the abbé would very naturally conclude that I was his confederate."
"You may not understand," replied Don Agostino; "nevertheless, you were overheard, and much of what passed between you and the Abbé Roux has been repeated in Montefiano. It was owing to this fact, and to Stefano Mazza's assurances that the abbé was in reality the affittuario of the rents, that the peasantry were so determined to see and speak with Donna Bianca. The whole paeseknew, madame," he added to the princess, "what you were in ignorance of. I was very certain that you were being deceived, and it was this certainty which made me so anxious to see you personally, before any disturbance should break out."
Monsieur d'Antin was silent for a moment. He had never contemplated the possibility of his conversations with the abbé becoming known. They had been, as he was well aware, compromising enough, and he now felt more convinced than ever that Monsignor Lelli had not been deceived by his disavowal of any genuine intention to make himself a partner in the Abbé Roux's schemes, nor by his declaration that he had only feigned to agree with them in order to prove to himself the priest's unworthiness to enjoy his sister's confidence.
Monsieur d'Antin, however, was not wanting in assurance. Its possession had on more than one occasion stood him in good Stead, and the present situation was certainly one in which assurance and aplomb were needed. It did not greatly concern him what Monsignor Lelli might or might not privately think of him. He had no intention, however, of forfeiting his sister's good opinion, and her summary dismissal of the Abbé Roux had shown him very plainly that Jeanne's character was not quite so weak as he had supposed.
"One must conclude that the walls of Montefiano have ears," he said at length; "but since the eavesdroppers, whoever they may have been, placed a wrong, though very natural, interpretation on what they overheard – at least, so far as my part in the affair was concerned – it does not appear to me greatly to matter."
"Philippe," exclaimed the princess, "for a moment I wronged you. I thought you, too, had deceived me. That would have been a hard thing to bear, for – "
"My dear Jeanne," interrupted Monsieur d'Antin, "do not think of it again, I beg of you. I saw that you suspected me, but I assure you that I made every allowance for you under the circumstances. Let us trust that now you are relieved of the Abbé Roux's presence, there will be no more misunderstandings. After all, Jeanne, a brother is more likely to be disinterested than a stranger who is paid for his services; is it not so?"
Don Agostino looked from Baron d'Antin to the princess, but he said nothing. Indeed, it was only by a slightly ironical smile that he betrayed any sign of having listened to Monsieur d'Antin's remarks.
Monsieur d'Antin did not continue the subject. He kissed his sister affectionately, and then observed: "I leave you, my dear Jeanne. As I said before, the last hour or so has been sufficiently trying to the nerves, and in any case, I do not feel equal to assisting at your interview with Monsieur Silvio Rossano. All the same, I am generous enough to say that, in my opinion, you do quite right to receive him. It may be that our friend the abbé has painted him in blacker colors that he deserves, and perhaps your interview with him will remove other misunderstandings. My only desire, Jeanne, is for Bianca's happiness," and Monsieur d'Antin placed his hand on his heart and sighed.
"Au revoir, monsieur," he continued, bowing to Don Agostino; "à bientôt, I hope," and then, humming a little tune to himself, he left the room.
"My brother has certainly a generous nature," remarked Princess Montefiano. Don Agostino did not consider himself called upon to reply to her observation.
"You have known this young Rossano for some time, monsignore, is it not so?" she asked, presently.
"For some time – yes," Don Agostino replied; "not for long, certainly," he added, "but I know enough of him from his father, who, as I told you, madame, is an old friend of mine, to make me confident that he would make any woman a good husband."
"The Professor Rossano is not an individual of whom I could approve," the princess said, dryly. "Such men do much to create unhappiness in family life by their teaching. You must pardon me if I say that I should not accept his opinion concerning a young man's character."
"Because you do not know him, princess," returned Don Agostino, bluntly. "If I had not full confidence both in Professor Rossano and in his son," he added, "I should certainly not sympathize with the latter in his desire to marry Donna Bianca Acorari. The responsibility would have been too great, and – " He hesitated for a moment, and then was silent.
Princess Montefiano glanced at him with some curiosity. "My responsibility is great," she said, "for my step-daughter is certainly not like other girls. She has a peculiar disposition – inherited, I fear, from her mother – my poor husband's first wife. I do not wish to speak ill of the dead, monsignore, but – "
"No," exclaimed Don Agostino, abruptly, "no, madame! Let the dead rest in peace."
Princess Montefiano made the sign of the cross. "Of course," she said, gravely. "But I have a duty towards the living, and I cannot forget that my step-daughter's mother was – well, not all she should have been as a wife. Oh, I do not mean to imply that, after her marriage, she was guilty of any misconduct," she continued, hurriedly, "but she did not make her husband happy – it was a wretched marriage. At any rate, monsignore, I am not injuring her memory by saying that she never loved my poor husband. She had formed an unfortunate attachment, before her marriage, for somebody who was not, I believe, quite her equal, and this seems to have ruined her whole life. You cannot wonder if I am determined to prevent her daughter from falling into the same unhappy circumstances. Indeed, I have sometimes felt an almost superstitious alarm lest the mother's story were destined to be repeated in her daughter's life. It is certainly strange that Bianca also should have formed this violent attachment for a young man who, however worthy he may be individually, is not of her own order."
Don Agostino did not answer immediately. He leaned his arm upon a table beside him, and his face was partially concealed by his hand.
Presently he raised his head and looked earnestly at Princess Montefiano.
"Madame," he said, in a low voice, "you bear the name and have succeeded to the place of her who is no longer here to speak in her own behalf. Do not, I beg of you, misjudge her."
The princess started. "Monsignore!" she exclaimed. "What do you know of my husband's first wife? You speak as though her story were known to you. But I forgot. No doubt, during the years you were in Rome you heard stories concerning the disagreements between her and the prince; for I believe there was much gossip at one time."