XII
"The thing is absolutely incredible!"
It was the Abbé Roux who was speaking. He sat with his hands folded on his lap. They were puffy hands, and looked unnaturally white against the black background of his soutane.
Monsieur d'Antin sat a few paces away from him, smoking a cigarette. The two had been in earnest conversation together in Monsieur d'Antin's little apartment in the Via Ludovisi, where the Abbé Roux had arrived half an hour before very much exercised in his mind as to why the princess's brother should have made such a point of wishing to speak with him in private.
Monsieur d'Antin looked at his visitor, and his face contracted with one of his satirical little smiles.
"You think so, my dear abbé?" he said, dryly. "That is because you are so infinitely superior to the weaknesses of the flesh. To me, on the contrary, the thing is perfectly credible; it is even natural. But we must endeavor to save Donna Bianca Acorari from the consequences this particular weakness would entail. I am glad I decided to confide in you before speaking to my sister. Of course, had Bianca been her own child, it would have simplified matters considerably; but as it is, I am sure you will agree with me, my dear abbé, that we must help my sister in this very difficult position."
The Abbé Roux unfolded his hands and began rubbing them gently together.
"Certainly, Monsieur le Baron, certainly," he replied. "It is, indeed, a duty to assist the princess in this – this exceedingly painful affair."
He paused, and looked at Monsieur d'Antin inquiringly, as though to intimate that he was only waiting to hear how the latter proposed to act.
Monsieur d'Antin proceeded with some deliberation to light another cigarette.
"I felt convinced that you would agree with me," he said, at length. "I am quite aware – my sister has often told me, indeed – what confidence she has in your judgment. I regard it as very fortunate that she has so reliable a counsellor. A woman left in her position needs some man at her side who will give her disinterested advice; and you, of course, Monsieur l'Abbé, enjoy two great advantages. In the first place, you have the influence of your sacred calling, which, as we both know, my sister regards with extreme reverence; and, in the next place, though a foreigner by birth, you are as much at home in Italy and with Italians as though you were one of themselves."
The Abbé Roux bowed. "Madame la Princesse has, indeed, chosen to honor me by asking my advice occasionally on matters quite apart from my profession," he replied.
Monsieur d'Antin blew a cloud of smoke into the air. There was, perhaps, the faintest suspicion of impatience in the action.
"Precisely," he returned. "Knowing this, I feel that we can discuss the peculiar situation in which Donna Bianca has placed herself – or, I should rather say, in which an unscrupulous young man has placed her – as two men of the world. Is it not so? My sister," he continued, without giving the priest time to reply, "would naturally merely look at the affair from the moral point of view. She would be deeply scandalized by it, and shocked at what she would regard almost as depravity in one whom she has hitherto considered to be still a child. All that is very well – but we men, my dear abbé, know that there are other things to be thought of in these cases of indiscretion on the part of young girls."
"The deception," said the Abbé Roux, shaking his head; "the princess will feel the deception practised by her step-daughter very acutely."
Monsieur d'Antin tapped a neatly shod foot on the floor.
"Dear Monsieur l'Abbé," he observed, gently, "let us ignore the deception as being one of those moral points of the case which, I think, we have agreed to leave out of our discussion. The question is, does my sister wish Donna Bianca to marry, or does she not?"
"Most decidedly not!" exclaimed the Abbé Roux, hastily, almost angrily.
Monsieur d'Antin glanced at him. "I do not necessarily allude to Donna Bianca's marriage with this unknown lover," he returned, "but to her marriage in the abstract."
The other hesitated.
"The princess, I believe, considers that it would be very unadvisable for Donna Bianca to marry too young," he said. "She has her good reasons, no doubt," he added – "women's reasons, Monsieur le Baron, with which you and I need not concern ourselves."
Monsieur d'Antin laughed softly.
"It appears to me," he said, "that Donna Bianca has proved them to be mere ideas, not reasons. I do not think my sister need be uneasy on that score. I should say, on the contrary, that in this instance marriage was advisable – very advisable indeed. You have often, I have no doubt, had to recommend it to your penitents, Monsieur l'Abbé."
The Abbé Roux spread out his hands with a deprecatory gesture. "In the present case," he said, "there are, I believe, other considerations which madame your sister, as guardian to Donna Bianca Acorari, has to take into account."
Monsieur d'Antin nodded his head. "I understand," he observed. "Pecuniary considerations."
The abbé looked at him. "In a sense – yes," he said. "The prince," he continued, "was not a man of business."
"So I have always heard," remarked Monsieur d'Antin.
"He left his affairs in a very involved state. The princess, since she has had the management of them, has been endeavoring to bring them into better order during Donna Bianca's minority."
"I understand," said Monsieur d'Antin again. "So that," he added, "it is, from a business point of view, very desirable that Donna Bianca should not marry before she is twenty-one."
"Exactly!" assented the abbé. "From a business point of view it is more than desirable, it is important," he added. "In the event of Donna Bianca's marrying, even as a minor, she would bring to her husband the Montefiano properties, and their administration by madame your sister would cease. These were the terms of the prince's will."
"It is perfectly clear," observed Monsieur d'Antin. "My sister and I have never discussed these matters," he continued. "There would have been no object in her talking to me about them, for I am absolutely ignorant of Roman customs where landed property is concerned. As I say, it is fortunate that she has had you to advise her as to how to act for the best in her step-daughter's interest. I fully understand the situation, however; or, if I do not, you will correct me – is it not so? Bien! I will proceed to explain myself – with your permission."
The abbé bowed silently.
"For business reasons, into which it is unnecessary to enter in detail, it is not convenient that Donna Bianca Acorari should marry for, at all events, three years. But surely, my dear Monsieur l'Abbé, it would very much depend upon whom she married, whether these business calculations were upset or not? An accommodating husband – or one who was in a position to be independent of any fortune his wife might bring him, need not necessarily, so far as I can see, interfere with arrangements you may have thought it wise to suggest to my sister for the better administration of her step-daughter's property."
Monsieur d'Antin looked penetratingly at his visitor as he said these words, and the abbé returned his gaze. Then something like a smile crossed the faces of both men simultaneously.
"No doubt," the priest replied, tranquilly, "very much would depend upon the husband. But I do not see your argument, monsieur," he continued. "You surely are not suggesting that Donna Bianca's very deplorable entanglement with a young man, whose identity, I must remind you, is as yet unknown to us, should be permitted to go on? The very fact of this individual meeting your niece – "
"Not my niece, Monsieur l'Abbé – not my niece!" interrupted Monsieur d'Antin. "The accident of Donna Bianca Acorari's father having married my sister en secondes noces, does not make that young lady any relation to me."
"Pardon!" said the abbé; "I forgot. Of course, as you say, Donna Bianca is absolutely no relation to you – not even a connection, indeed."
"Precisely – not even a connection," repeated Monsieur d'Antin. "But pray proceed – "
"I was about to say," resumed the abbé, "that no young man of good family would place a young girl in such an unheard-of position as to make love to her before speaking to her relations. The man is no doubt some adventurer."
"That," said Monsieur d'Antin, "I must leave to you to ascertain. As I have just observed, I am no relation of Donna Bianca Acorari. I therefore prefer not to interfere further than to utter a private warning to those who have the right to move in the matter as to what has accidentally come to my knowledge."
"It will not be difficult to identify the individual whom you saw in Donna Bianca's company," said the priest. "As you remarked, he is sure to repeat his visit to the Villa Acorari. For this reason I should be inclined to say nothing to the princess until we have ascertained who it is with whom we have to deal."
"Exactly!" exclaimed Monsieur d'Antin. "I thoroughly agree with you. You will admit, however, my dear abbé, that the matter is serious. For instance, what is to prevent the young couple from taking the law into their own hands and running away? If the young man is merely an adventurer, he might persuade Donna Bianca to take such a step. There has been an example of the kind in Rome not so very long ago, if I am not mistaken."
"There is nothing to prevent them from doing so, certainly," replied the Abbé Roux. "They could get themselves married ecclesiastically, no doubt, but not legally. It would hardly be worth an adventurer's while to burden himself with a wife over whose fortune he would have no legal rights."
"He might prefer to establish rights over her person," said Monsieur d'Antin, dryly. "Young men – are young men; and this one, unless I am greatly mistaken, thinks more of Donna Bianca's face than her fortune."
The Abbé Roux shrugged his shoulders. "He seems to be on the high road to establish those rights already," he observed, "if one is to judge by what you overheard. The blessing of the Church is not invariably sought in cases of this kind," he added.
Monsieur d'Antin chuckled. "True," he replied, "the girl is inexperienced, and of a temperament – oh, but of a temperament – " He paused abruptly.
The abbé looked at him quickly. Then he smiled a curious little smile not altogether in keeping with his clerical attire.
"Ah," he said, "I think, Monsieur le Baron, that you have had occasion to remark on this – this delicate subject before, have you not? The princess mentioned to me some time ago that you had told her you thought she was mistaken in believing her step-daughter to be still a child. You have evidently been studying Donna Bianca attentively. After all, she is a very attractive young lady, and is developing greater beauty every few months. But your warning to Madame la Princesse has turned out to be singularly justified by subsequent events. One sees that you have an insight into female character, Monsieur le Baron."
Monsieur d'Antin looked at him suspiciously for a moment, and then he laughed good-humoredly.
"What would you have, my dear abbé?" he asked. "I am not such an old man – yet; and I am not a priest. I have my little experiences – yes – and I am not often mistaken about a woman," and Monsieur d'Antin slapped himself encouragingly on the breast. "I will make you a little confession, my friend," he continued, gayly. "It is of no consequence that I am smoking a cigarette, and that you do not happen to have your stole on – you can give me absolution all the same. I find my 'niece,' as you choose to call her, charming – absolutely charming. It is a thousand pities that she has so hopelessly compromised herself with this mysterious young man, for if the story becomes known, when my sister wants to find a husband for her it will not be such an easy matter to do so. Ah, my dear Monsieur l'Abbé, had I only been younger, a very few years younger, I would have come forward and said: 'I, Philippe d'Antin, will marry you, and protect you from the evil tongues of the world. I pardon your youthful indiscretion, and I make you the Baroness d'Antin.'"
Monsieur d'Antin paused and looked at the Abbé Roux gravely. He appeared to be almost overcome by a sense of his own magnanimity.
The abbé was apparently engrossed in his own thoughts. He sat silently rubbing his hands together, and it was some moments before he spoke.
"I agree with you, monsieur," he said, presently. "It is not every man who will marry a young lady who has placed herself in an equivocal position. You are very generous. I offer you my congratulations on your chivalrous spirit; and though, as you remark, I have not my stole on, I shall respect your confidence. All the same, nous sommes toujours là! Donna Bianca Acorari's marriage would not be advisable for the present. The princess, I feel convinced, would not countenance it."
"But, my dear abbé," exclaimed Monsieur d'Antin, "I assure you that I thoroughly understand! I was merely stating what I should have been prepared to do had I only been a slightly younger man. I do not conceal the fact from you that I have a certain admiration for Donna Bianca, which you, with your knowledge of frail human nature, will readily pardon as a mere weakness of the flesh – is it not so? At the same time, I should have been prepared to sacrifice myself in order to prevent any scandal; and, moreover, perhaps there would not be the same objections to me as a husband for Donna Bianca as there might be in the case of a stranger. We should, so to speak, be keeping the Montefiano properties in the family, should we not, Monsieur l'Abbé? and there would have been no reason to fear that your and my sister's excellent schemes for the benefit of the estates would not have had ample time to be realized. However, these are mere châteaux en Espagne. We need not discuss so unlikely a contingency any further. I consider that I have done my duty in warning you, as my sister's confidential adviser and spiritual director, as to what is taking place; and, as I have said, I must leave it to you to take such steps as you think proper regarding when and how the princess is to be made acquainted with the story. After what I have confided to you of my personal feelings, I am sure you will understand my determination not to mix myself up in the matter – unless I am wanted. If I can be of any use eventually, you know, my dear Monsieur l'Abbé, what I am prepared to do in order to protect Donna Bianca from any scandal."
The Abbé Roux rose from his chair. "I think, Monsieur le Baron," he said, "that you may safely leave this very delicate matter to me. The first thing to be done is to find out who this young man may be. When I have accomplished this, we can discuss what may be the best course to be taken. For the moment, I shall say nothing to the princess. A day or two's delay can do no harm, and may do good."
Monsieur d'Antin accompanied his visitor to the door of the staircase, where he took leave of him. Then he returned to his sitting-room, and, having closed the door, gave vent to quiet but genuine merriment.
XIII
Silvio Rossano had quickly made up his mind that, as was only fitting and proper, he would tell his father without further delay of the situation in which he and Bianca found themselves. It would be the professor's duty to call on Princess Montefiano and make a formal proposal on the part of his son for Donna Bianca's hand. That the proposal would not be listened to by the princess, Silvio was convinced. He had never attempted to deceive himself upon that subject, and less than ever after hearing from Giacinta what she had learned. But, at all events, once having sent his father as his ambassador, he would have conformed to the usages of society, and would afterwards be free to take his own line.
Mademoiselle Durand, to whom he had of course confided the successful result of his interview with Bianca in the grounds of the Villa Acorari, had counselled patience. There was no reason, she thought, why, with the exercise of ordinary prudence, Silvio and the girl whom he now looked upon as his betrothed wife should not repeatedly meet each other in the same manner, and there was surely no necessity to be in a hurry to explode the mine they had laid – more especially as it was not so easy to calculate what the effects of the explosion might be. But Silvio was firm. Had there been the slightest hope of being able to accomplish his object in any other way, he would never, as he told Mademoiselle Durand, have approached Bianca secretly, and already he blamed himself for having placed the girl in so unusual a position. Now, however, that he had heard from her own lips that Bianca returned his love, and since they had mutually vowed to marry each other, or not to marry at all, he would have no more concealment. If the princess refused to accept him as a husband for her step-daughter, then he should feel that he and Bianca were at liberty to carry out their future plans in their own way.
Mademoiselle Durand expostulated in vain. Silvio begged her to deliver a letter to Bianca when she next went to the Villa Acorari. In this letter he explained all his reasons for not risking another interview with her until they should have learned the result of his father's visit to the princess, and these reasons he put before Bianca in the simple, straightforward way which was part of his nature. Mademoiselle Durand promised to deliver the letter the very next day, and in the mean time Silvio had carried his story to his father.
Professor Rossano had received his son's intelligence with a blank dismay which was almost ludicrous; for never, surely, had a task for which he was so absolutely ill-fitted been thrust upon him. At first he had positively declined to interfere, or to be by way of knowing anything at all about the matter. Silvio had chosen to fall in love in an impossible quarter, and the best thing he could do was to fall out of love again as quickly as possible. As to thinking that the Principessa di Montefiano would allow her step-daughter and the last representative of the Acorari to marry the son of the tenant of her second floor, that was altogether an absurdity. Giacomelli had been quite right when he said Silvio was in love, and would be taking false measurements in consequence. He had taken them – deplorably false measurements.
"But," Silvio observed quietly, after the first stream of objection had somewhat subsided, "I do not the least think the princess will consent to our marriage."
"Then, may I ask, what is the use of sending me on a fool's errand?" the professor retorted, witheringly.
"Nevertheless, whether she consents or not, Bianca Acorari and I shall marry each other. All the same," continued Silvio, "if she gives her consent, it will, of course, obviate a great many difficulties."
His father gazed at him with an expression half angry and half humorous.
"Diamine!" he observed, "I imagine that it would! It appears to me, Silvio, you forget that marrying an heiress is not the same thing as building a bridge. In the mean time, as I say, you wish to send me on a fool's errand. Well, you may 'go out fishing!' These people are noble, and I am not going to expose myself and my son to certain prejudices which an old-fashioned woman like Princess Montefiano probably entertains. Moreover, they are clericals – fervent Catholics – and when people are fervent Catholics —mah!" and the professor shrugged his shoulders.
Silvio laughed. "It is a mere formality, Babbo," he said, "and it is the only thing I shall ask you to do in the matter. If you like, you can go to the princess and say to her, 'My son has fallen in love with your step-daughter, and means to marry her. I have told him he is an imbecile, and that I will not give my consent; but he declares he will marry her all the same.'"
"Oh, oh!" exclaimed the professor, "so you would marry without my consent, would you? And pray, what would you live upon?"
"My wits."
"It seems to me that you are a pumpkin-head, and that you have lost them," returned the professor. "Does Giacinta know of this folly?"
"She knows that I am going to marry Donna Bianca Acorari."
"The devil she does!" observed Professor Rossano. "Go and talk it over with Giacinta, Silvio," he continued; "she is a sensible girl, and will tell you that you are going to make a fool of yourself, and of your family as well. As for me, I will have nothing to do with it. I have no time to spend on such trifles."
"But if I have already talked it over with Giacinta?" said Silvio. He knew very well how to manage his father. The professor would certainly end by doing what either of his children asked him to do. It was his method of carrying out his sense of parental duty. His children, whenever he remembered to think about them, puzzled him considerably; or rather, it puzzled him to know what was expected of him as a father. Occasionally he would sit and look at Giacinta with much the same expression on his face as may be seen on that of a retriever bitch whose puppies are beginning to assert their independence. He often felt that it was probably incumbent upon him to do something on her behalf, but he did not at all know what it might be, and still less how to do it. In Silvio's case things had been different. The boy had so early given unmistakable proofs of having both the brains and the character to take a line of his own in the world, that the professor had never had seriously to think of possible responsibilities towards him.
This affair of Silvio's, however, would, as Professor Rossano was quick to realize, need some careful handling on a father's part. He was very fond of his children, notwithstanding all his apparent absorption in his scientific occupations, and he was proud as well as fond of his son. He might laugh at Silvio, and call him an "imbecile," and he might pretend to regard his love for this Acorari girl as a foolish fancy that need not be seriously discussed. But in his heart Professor Rossano was uneasy. He knew that Silvio was not a susceptible lad, and that he had hitherto appeared to be remarkably indifferent to women. But he knew, too, his tenacity of character, and how when he had once fairly made up his mind to attain some object he would pursue his purpose with an energy that was almost dogged.
Added to these traits in Silvio's character, the professor knew the gentleness and loyalty of his nature and his simple, affectionate disposition. It would go very hard with the boy, he thought, if he were deceived or played with by any woman upon whom he had really set his affections. Notwithstanding his assertion that he would have nothing to say or do in the matter, Professor Rossano had not the slightest intention of allowing Silvio's life to be made unhappy if he could prevent it. The boy had a career before him, and it should most certainly not be wrecked by a priest-ridden woman and the daughter of so poor a specimen of humanity as the late Principe di Montefiano was reputed to have been. What Donna Bianca Acorari might be, the professor neither knew nor cared. Though they lived under the same roof, he had never set eyes upon the girl. She was probably bored to death with her step-mother and her step-mother's pious practices, and had encouraged the first good-looking young man she saw to make love to her, which young man had unfortunately happened to be Silvio.
Perhaps Silvio guessed something of what was passing in his father's mind. "I have already talked it over with Giacinta," he repeated, as the professor remained silent. "She does not think, any more than I think, that there is the slightest chance of Princess Montefiano listening to any proposal coming from us."
"And why not, I should like to know?" exclaimed the professor with sublime inconsistency.
"For various reasons," returned Silvio, suppressing an inclination to laugh. "Giacinta knows more about Casa Montefiano than any of us," he continued. "I told her some time ago how it was with me, and she has been making some inquiries. It appears that there is a priest – the Abbé Roux, they call him – "
"May the devil take him!" interrupted the professor. "He puts his nose everywhere. When we took this apartment the princess had agreed to make certain alterations, but the porter told my lawyer that the Abbé Roux – well, never mind! – what were you going to say about him, Silvio?"
"Only that, as you say, he puts his foot everywhere. Giacinta has heard that neither the princess nor he really wish Donna Bianca to marry at all."
"Which means to say that the priest does not wish it, for some reasons of his own – money reasons, probably. The princess will do what he tells her to do, of course."
"Of course," repeated Silvio, dryly.
"And do you mean me to go and bribe the Abbé Roux?" asked the professor, "for I shall most decidedly do nothing of the kind!"
"Oh, not at all!" returned Silvio, quietly; "I tell you, it does not matter, Babbo. Bianca and I shall wait three years, unless we get tired of waiting and run away with each other before. We could be married in a church, you know, and the legal marriage might be postponed till she was of age, but I think it would be better to wait the three years."
"Diamine!" ejaculated the professor, "but you seem to be very certain of your arrangements, figlio mio, and of the girl."
Silvio nodded. "You see," he said, "I don't want to put her in any false position, and if we ran away with each other before she is of age, people would say I had done it in order eventually to get her money. Besides, in the course of three years she will have ample time to be quite sure that she has not made a mistake," added Silvio, with a smile.
The professor looked at him. "Yes," he said, "you are quite right, but not many young men would be so thoughtful or so confiding. In the mean time, you think – Giacinta thinks there is no chance of your being allowed to pay your addresses to Donna Bianca Acorari, because, I suppose, you would not be considered well-born enough nor rich enough. You might be a contractor risen from nothing, or a mercante di campagna whose father had herded pigs, and, if you had money, no objections would be made to your marrying into the Acorari or any other family. Figlio mio, take my advice. Leave these people alone, and take your wife from a class that has good brains and healthy blood, not from these worn-out families of which the country has very little further need. You are only preparing for yourself trouble and disappointment."
Silvio shook his head. "I will marry Bianca Acorari, or I will marry nobody," he said.
The professor shrugged his shoulders.
"That being the case," he observed, mildly, "what is the use of discussing the matter any further? Why send me to the girl's step-mother? It is a waste of time."
"You could write," suggested Silvio.
"Of course I should write!" returned his father testily. "You don't suppose I should spend a whole day in going to Velletri and back on such an affair, do you? All the same, I see why you think the formal proposal should be made in the usual way. If it is declined by the princess – as, of course, it will be – you and the girl will consider yourselves to be justified in taking the matter into your hands – is it not true?"
"Exactly," answered Silvio. "Moreover," he added, "I want to be certain that Giacinta's informant is right, and that there is some reason why Donna Bianca will not be allowed to marry either me or anybody else, if it can be prevented."
The professor nodded his head slowly. "Depend upon it, the priest is at the bottom of it," he said. "He is probably feathering his nest, or somebody else's nest, well out of the Montefiano revenues, and does not want any premature change in the situation. And that reminds me," he added, laughing, "that you had better have been anybody's son than mine. The priests – I mean those of the Abbé Roux type – regard me as a freemason, a heretic, anything you please that is damnable, because – well, because I believe Domeneddio to have given us minds in order that we should use them. I am afraid, Silvio mio, that Donna Bianca Acorari would never be allowed to marry the son of a senator, who also happens to be a scientist in a modest way."
"I tell you again, Babbo," said Silvio, "that it doesn't matter. All I want is to be refused by the princess, after a formal proposal has been made in the recognized manner. That will quite satisfy me. Do you not see, too, that we should be placing ourselves in a humiliating position if we did not approach the Princess Montefiano? She has the right to expect it, and by not conforming to the usage it would appear as though we knew ourselves to be in an entirely different class; whereas we are not that. We do not happen to possess a title, but for all that we can show as good blood as the Acorari; while you are a senator, and your name is known throughout Italy."
The professor passed his hand through his hair. "Yes," he replied, "I believe you are right, Silvio. I imagine that you will very quickly be satisfied if a refusal is all you want. But remember, I will have nothing more to do with the matter after I have informed Princess Montefiano that you wish to marry her step-daughter, and have conveyed her answer to you. You are very obstinate, and I suppose you and this girl are in love with each other. That being the case, you must make fools of yourselves in your own way. Only, don't expect me to help you. I am going to the Lincei."
And without waiting for Silvio to reply, Professor Rossano took up his soft felt hat and his walking-stick, which were lying on a table near him, and walked out of his study, leaving Silvio satisfied that he would do as he had asked him.