Richard Bagot

“ Have you thought well, Monsieur Silvio? You say that you love her, and that she can learn to love you; you will marry her if she be twenty times Princess of Montefiano. Well, I believe that you love her; and if a good countenance is any proof of a good heart, your love should be worth having. But if you make her love you, and are not strong enough to break down the barriers which will be raised to prevent her from marrying you, will you not be bringing on her a greater unhappiness than if you left her to her natural destiny? ”

“ Bianca observed, calmly. "It is much better that you should understand. In three years' time I shall have the management of my own affairs. Well, three years is not a very long time. We, Silvio and I, can afford to wait; and at the end of three years, when I am of age, I shall marry him. But I will not marry Monsieur d'Antin—my uncle."
"Bianca!" exclaimed the princess, "you are either mad, or you are a wicked girl! For the sake of a disgraceful passion for a man in an inferior position of life to your own you rebel against those whom God has placed in authority over you. ”

“ Silvio," she added, looking at him, shyly, "for the love of God, go! It is getting late. At any moment they may be coming to look for me. No—not again—"
"But I must speak with you here to-morrow—the day after," urged Silvio.
"Yes," said Bianca, hurriedly. "I must think," she added. "We must confide everything now to Mademoiselle Durand. Ah, Silvio, you should not have loved me—I shall bring you unhappiness."
Silvio looked at her gravely. "If we are true to each other," he said, "everything must come right. ”

“ The girl is an heiress—a princess in her own right, and we—we are not noble. You know what the world would say."
Silvio Rossano glanced at her.
"We are Romans," he said, "of a family as old as the Acorari themselves. It is true that we are not noble. Perhaps, when we look at some of those who are, it is as well! But we are not poor, either, Giacinta—not so poor as to have to be fed by rich American and English adventurers at the Grand Hôtel, like some of your nobles."
Giacinta shrugged her shoulders. "Donna Bianca Acorari is of that class," she said, quietly. ”

“ Donna Bianca is right—it would be an insult. When you have heard all Donna Bianca has to tell you—all that others have to tell you—you will understand better, and perhaps you will form a different opinion. But this is not the place for explanations. It is not necessary to discuss a scandal in public."
"How, monsignore, a scandal!" exclaimed Princess Montefiano, indignantly.
"I repeat it, madame—a scandal," returned Don Agostino, looking at the Abbé Roux and Monsieur d'Antin steadily. "Donna Bianca Acorari and yourself have been the victims of a dishonorable intrigue. ”

“ As to Donna Bianca Acorari, we can leave her name out of the discussion—"
Giacinta laughed. "Scarcely," she said; "but, Silvio mio, you must not be angry. You know that I do not care at all whether people are noble by birth or whether they are not. All the same, I think you are preparing for yourself a great deal of mortification; and for that girl, if you make her care for you, a great deal of unhappiness. You see how she is isolated. Does anybody, even of their own world, ever come to visit the princess and Donna Bianca? A few old women come occasionally, and a few priests—but that is all. ”

“ Suddenly she turned to Concetta and took both the girl's hands in hers. "Forgive me," she said, softly; "I was wrong to doubt you, but I think I have begun to suspect everybody lately. When one has once been deceived, it is not easy to trust again."
Concetta's eyes flashed. "Who has dared to deceive you, signorina?" she asked, hastily. "Not—" she pointed to the letter Bianca was still holding against her heart.
Bianca smiled. "No, Concetta; ah, no, not he! How could he deceive me? I was thinking of somebody else—somebody here at Montefiano. But it does not matter. I do not care at all now. ”

“ Silvio looked at her quickly. "It is not inexplicable," he replied, quietly. "It is an idea—a sentiment, perhaps—or perhaps it is more than that. If one does not believe that the dead are conscious beings, princess, what is the use of praying for them? And, if they are conscious beings, why may they not exercise an influence over those who are dear to them, and whom they have left behind?"
Princess Montefiano regarded him with surprise—but at the same time with evident approval. She had certainly not expected to hear any such arguments from the lips of a son of Professor Rossano. ”

“ Bianca Acorari was sitting by herself in the room devoted to her own especial use, where she studied in the mornings with Mademoiselle Durand, and, indeed, spent most of her time. It was now the beginning of June—the moment in all the year, perhaps, when Rome is the most enjoyable; when the hotels are empty, and the foreigners have fled before the imaginary spectres of heat, malaria, and other evils to which those who remain in the city during the late spring and summer are popularly supposed to fall victims. ”

“ 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. ”

“ Perhaps she was thinking that within the last few weeks she had learned the difference between love and duty.
"No, Bianca," continued Princess Montefiano, "if you had wanted to give me your confidence—if you had ever felt enough affection for me to make you wish to give it me—there could be no reason why you should persistently have withheld it. Nevertheless," she added, "your ingratitude towards me will not deter me from doing my duty. You must be protected against your own inexperience of the world, and against those who would take advantage of that inexperience." ”

“ Silvio Rossano and Don Agostino, who by a supreme effort over himself had regained his composure, sprang to Bianca's side. The color mounted to her face as she looked at Silvio, and their eyes met. Then she turned from him to the crowd that was swaying like the swell of the sea before a coming storm.
"No!" she called out, imperatively. "There must be no more violence. You say that you will do what I ask you—that you trust me? Well, I ask you to go quietly to your homes, secure in having my word that the injustices committed by the Abate Roux will be removed." ”

“ Giacinta Rossano's pride was aroused. It would be intolerable to feel that her brother was regarded as not good enough to be the husband of an Acorari, or of anybody else, for that matter. Knowing Silvio's contemptuous indifference to merely hereditary rank, she wondered that he did not realize the false position into which he was apparently doing his best to put himself. That Donna Bianca Acorari would fall in love with Silvio, if any reasonable opportunity were given her, Giacinta had very little doubt. Any woman might fall in love with him, if it were only for his good looks. ”

“ I have no need of Donna Bianca's money. My father is not a poor man, and I can earn money if I choose."
"Ah, your mother was noble?" asked Princess Montefiano. "I did not know that—"
"Oh, not of the alta nobiltà," said Silvio, "but of a noble family of the Romagna, of older descent than most of the Roman houses. But, Signora Principessa, as you said a few minutes ago, we need not waste words in discussion. Donna Bianca Acorari has done me the honor to say that she will marry me, and I am content to wait until she is in a position to do so. ”

“ Monsieur l'Abbé is quite sure Fontana has ruled here too long, and that it will be better to make a change. He knows of a man—"
"Of course!" interposed Bianca, dryly.
The princess glanced at her. "It is very fortunate for you," she observed, "and for me, that we have a shrewd man of business like Monsieur l'Abbé to advise us. That is what you will never understand, Bianca."
Bianca Acorari pushed her plate from her impatiently. "No," she said, abruptly, "I shall never understand it. I think I should prefer priests who were not shrewd men of business, and men of business who were not priests." ”

“ As he walked from the Palazzo Acorari to his little apartment in the Ludovisi quarter of the city, Monsieur d'Antin was unusually preoccupied, and more than once he chuckled to himself. His sister Jeanne was certainly not gifted with a sense of humor, but he found himself wondering whether she was quite as incompetent to look after her own affairs as she wished him to believe. Experience taught him that while piety and humor seldom went together, piety and a shrewd eye to worldly advantage were by no means unfrequently to be found working very harmoniously side by side. ”

“ Silvio Rossano's head began to swim. He looked at her and said nothing. Then he swore at himself for being a fool and losing his opportunities.
"You see," proceeded Bianca, picking up the train of her thoughts again, "I am afraid I am not like other girls. I have lived most of my life alone, and I suppose I have odd ideas. When I am of age, I shall certainly please myself—but until then, I have to please other people. Of course, I know that a man is obliged to speak to a girl's parents before he can tell her that he loves her. ”

“ No matter what might happen, I would never give my consent to Bianca's marriage with a free-thinker. I would rather see her dead, and a thousand times rather see her in a convent."
The Abbé Roux smiled. "Fortunately," he said, "there are other solutions. Donna Bianca has shown very clearly that she has no vocation for conventual life, and of the other we need not speak."
"I do not see the solutions you speak of," returned the princess, with a sigh.
"There is only one which presents itself to my mind as being not only simple, but absolutely necessary for the moment," said the abbé. ”

“ After all, Philippe, I am a foreigner, you know—though I scarcely feel myself to be one—and Bianca is not. So I am doubly glad of Monsieur l'Abbé's advice sometimes."
"But he is as much a foreigner as you are, Jeanne," remarked Monsieur d'Antin.
"Oh, but then he is a priest!" exclaimed the princess. "That makes such a difference. You see, he was brought up in Rome, and went through his studies here."
"An admirable training," said Monsieur d'Antin, suavely.
"Yes, admirable," assented the princess. "It gives such a grasp of, such an insight into, human nature. ”

“ Don Agostino looked at her and laughed.
"He is the same as he was twenty years ago—our dear professor," he said.
"You are quite right, Giacinta," returned Professor Rossano. "When I think of the intellects—God-given—that have been warped and crushed in the name of God, it makes me fly into a rage. Yes, it is certainly better to talk of something else. All the same, Monsignor Lelli understands what I mean. If he did not, he would still be at the Vatican, and not at Montefiano."
"I am particularly glad that Don Agostino understands," interposed Silvio. ”

“ The princess looked perplexed. "After all, Philippe," she said, "Bianca is only just seventeen. Of course she is tall for her age, and, as you say—er—well developed. I suppose men only judge by what they see—"
"Precisely," interrupted Monsieur d'Antin; "it is the only way we have of forming an idea of—what we do not see."
"I have thought only of her mind—her nature," continued the princess. "I suppose," she added, "that is what you mean? I cannot say that I understand her. I find her silent—apathetic. She seems to me to interest herself in nothing." ”

“ She had wanted it for so long, and she had understood that Silvio had it to give her. And she wanted somebody whom she could love, not merely some one towards whom she was perpetually being told she should be dutiful. No, it was absurd to say she was glad she had listened to him, and had let him tell her his love in his own way. It was worse than absurd—it was a lie told to herself. Ever since that Christmas night when she had seen him in the church of the Sudario, she had understood that she loved, and that he loved her. ”

“ Ciel! what filth one eats in a Roman restaurant, even in the best of them. Oh, la, la! Yes, your parroco was dining with the Rossano family. It would appear that he is an intimate friend."
"No doubt," observed the abbé, with a sneer. "Lelli was always hand and glove with all the canaille in Rome of the literary and scientific world. He is simply a free-thinker—nothing more nor less. It does not at all surprise me that he should be a friend of Professor Rossano."
"But it is a little unfortunate that a friend of the Rossanos should be curé at Montefiano, is it not?" asked Monsieur d'Antin. ”