Chapter XIV: Part 14

At this moment the outside shutters of a window in the gallery were thrown open, and the Abbe Roux appeared at it.

"Signor Delegate," he cried, "in the name of the Principessa di Montefiano, I call upon you to protect the inhabitants of this castle from the assault of a disorderly mob. Those men," he added, pointing to Don Agostino and his companions, "are the ringleaders--they are responsible for this agitation."

A howl of execration from the mob followed the Abbe Roux's speech, and sticks and stones were hurled at the window at which he was standing.

The delegate looked from the abbe to Don Agostino and Silvio Rossano, who was standing by his side, in some perplexity.

"Your names, _signori_," he said, curtly.

"Agostino Lelli, _parroco_ of Montefiano."

"Silvio Rossano, son of the Senator Rossano."

"_Evviva! Evviva il fidanzato della nostra principessina!_" shouted the crowd.

The official looked up to the window again.

"There is surely some mistake--" he began.

"I tell you, Signor Delegate, that there is no mistake," shouted the Abbe Roux. "Is this a time to waste words, when in a moment the mob will be inside the castle?"

The delegate shrugged his shoulders. Then he turned to Don Agostino and Silvio. "Signori," he said, courteously, "I must ask you to consider yourselves under arrest pending further inquiries. Have the kindness to place yourselves behind the troops!"

The peasants began to leave the staircase and flock into the body of the court-yard.

"_Morte al prele straniero!_" they shouted. "We will have no arrests!"

The delegate made a sign to the officer in command of the grenadiers, and immediately the three bugle-calls which the law ordains shall precede any action on the part of troops against the public resounded through the court-yard.

Moved partly by rage and partly by fear, the peasants made another rush towards the staircase. The delegate called upon the officer in command to order his men to charge. The captain hesitated.

"Signor Delegate," he said, "a little patience; it maybe that my men may be saved from having to perform a disagreeable duty."

Don Agostino went up to him. "You are right, Signor Capitano. For God's sake, let us have patience! Let me see if I can make them hear reason--ah!"

"_Cristo!_" swore the officer, drawing in his breath sharply.

A sudden silence had fallen on the mob, and those who were half-way up the stone staircase paused and stood still.

Then, Sor Stefano's voice rang out:

"_Ecco la principessina! Evviva la nostra padrona!_"

A great shout answered him. The doors at the top of the staircase had opened, and in the centre of them stood Bianca Acorari. She remained for a moment or two looking steadily down on the astonished crowd of peasants and the double line of _granatieri_ drawn up at the back of the court-yard. Then, raising her head proudly, she moved forward and rested her hands on the stone balustrade. It was perhaps no wonder that a silence had fallen on the crowd; that the captain of _granatieri_ had sworn, and that one of his men had let his musket fall with a clatter to the ground. The sudden appearance of a young girl, simply dressed in white, with the light falling on her tawny gold hair, and her creamy complexion flushed with a glow of excitement, her every movement full of high-bred grace and dignity, among a mob of angry peasants, formed a picture that certainly could not be seen every day.

"They tell me that you want to see me--to speak with me. Well, I am here to speak with you. I am Bianca Acorari."

The low, clear voice could be heard all over the court-yard. There was no tremor of fear, no trace of excitement, even, in its tones. For a few moments soldiers and peasants gazed, as though spellbound, at the girlish figure standing alone upon the steps against the background formed by the columns and heavy mouldings of the portico. Then the silence which succeeded her appearance was broken; and when she ceased speaking, the peasants greeted her with an outburst of cheering, in which--did discipline permit--the soldiers looked as though they would willingly join.

If the delegate representing the law had been perplexed before, he was fairly bewildered now at the turn events had taken. The message received that morning from the _sindaco_ of Montefiano had been urgent, and the instant despatch of an armed force had been requested by that official for the purpose both of maintaining public order and of protecting the Princess Montefiano and Donna Bianca Acorari from violence at the hands of their unruly tenants.

The _delegato_, indeed, was about to demand an explanation from the _avvocato_ Ricci, who had waited for the arrival of the troops before venturing to show himself among the mob in his official capacity as _syndic_, when the Abbe Roux, livid with rage and excitement, rushed from the doorway down the steps to where Bianca was standing.

"Signor Delegato," he cried, "once more I request that the castle be cleared of these rioters. In the name of her excellency, the princess--" A woman's voice interrupted him.

"_Eccolo--Ecco l'Abate! Fuori gli stranieri!_"

A cry of execration rose from the crowd, and in an instant its passions were kindled afresh. A sudden rush was made for the staircase, but the captain in command of the _granatieri_ had watched his opportunity, and by a rapid movement his men had placed themselves between the mob and its base. At the same time a detachment of the infantry left outside the court-yard filed through the gateway and occupied the space in the rear of the mob.

The peasants, as Don Agostino had foreseen would probably be the case were they to be surprised in the court-yard by the troops, were trapped; and it was the discovery that they were so which redoubled their fury against the foreign priest. Uttering a volley of curses and blasphemies, a group of the younger men attempted to force their way to the staircase. For the second time the bugle sounded the three warning blasts. At that instant both Silvio and Don Agostino hurled themselves against the foremost of the peasants who were struggling to break through the ranks of the _granatieri_. They tried to force them back, imploring them at the same time not to oblige the troops to use their weapons.

The delegate misunderstood the action of the two men whom he had a few minutes previously told to consider themselves as under arrest, and a further furious appeal from the Abbe Roux did not help him to keep his head or his temper. He turned angrily to the officer in command, and ordered him to give the word to his men to charge the crowd.

"Yes--yes!" shouted the abbe. "Drive the _canaglia_ out of the court-yard! Donna Bianca Acorari, Signor Delegate, has no business to be here. She is a minor, and has no authority. She is being deceived by certain adventurers who have incited the peasants to revolt. You, Signor Capitano, give the order to charge, as the law requires you to do."

The delegate stamped his foot angrily. "In the name of the law, charge the crowd!" he shouted to the soldiers.

"No! I, Bianca Acorari, Principessina di Montefiano, forbid it! I will not have the people--my people--touched."

The Abbe Roux attempted to restrain her; but, breaking away from him, Bianca rushed down the steps. The soldiers mechanically made way for her to pass between their ranks; and erect, defiant, she stood between the troops and the excited mob confronting them.

The delegate, like the majority of the officials of Italian bureaucracy, was extremely sensitive in any thing which touched his official dignity or prerogative.

"_Signorina_," he exclaimed, "you will have the goodness to retire. We are not here to play a comedy. Signor Capitano, order your men to dislodge the mob from the court-yard."

Bianca turned to the officer, her eyes flashing with anger.

"_Signore_," she said, "your men are not assassins, and you--you will not give that order! The people have come to see me--to speak with me. Who has any right, excepting myself, to turn them away? That priest"--and she pointed with a scornful gesture to the Abbe Roux standing on the steps above--"has lied!"

The officer lowered the point of his sword.

"Signor Delegato," he said, "I protest. My men shall not charge."

"You are here to obey my orders," shouted the _delegato_, angrily. "I shall report you to headquarters."

"I undertake the responsibility of disobeying your orders," returned the officer, coldly. "My men shall not move. Signorina," he added, "you need not be afraid. As you say, we are not assassins."

A murmur ran through the ranks of the _granatieri_. Every man's eyes were fixed upon Bianca Acorari.

At this moment Sor Beppe forced his way through the struggling crowd and approached Bianca.

"Excellenza," he said, quickly, "speak to the people. They will do what you tell them--you will see."

In the mean time, neither Silvio nor Don Agostino had seen Bianca's descent into the court-yard, so occupied had they been in reasoning and almost fighting with the leaders of that faction of the peasants which was in favor of trying to force a passage through the cordon of troops in front of the staircase.

In a stentorian voice Fontana shouted out that the Principessina Bianca wished to speak to the people, and Sor Stefano seconded his efforts to obtain silence. Bianca moved slowly forward, until she was within a few paces of her lover and Don Agostino.

"_Evviva la nostra principessina_! Speak, speak!" shouted those nearest to her.

Bianca smiled. "I have little to say," she said, simply, "but I have heard that things have been done in my name that are unjust things. You have come here to tell my step-mother, the princess, this; is it not so? Well, I shall tell her; and I, Bianca Acorari, promise you that there shall be no increase in the rents, and that a faithful servant of Casa Acorari, who has been dismissed because he would not consent to injustice being done in my step-mother's and my name, shall be--no--is recalled to his post," and she turned to Sor Beppe with a quiet smile.

A dead silence greeted her words. The peasants forgot to cheer her. They could only look at her, open-mouthed and wonder-struck. Don Agostino started forward and gazed at her almost wildly for a moment. Then, staggering back, and placing his hands to his head, he seemed as though he would have fallen to the ground had it not been for Silvio, who supported him in his arms.

"Listen," Bianca continued, tranquilly, "for I do not wish you, the people of Montefiano, to think what is not the truth. My step-mother is not responsible for what has been done, any more than I am responsible. She is good, and she would never have consented to anything which was unjust. But she has been deceived--yes--deceived by that priest in whom she trusted, who summoned the soldiers here, and who, as you have heard, has called upon them to charge you with their bayonets."

An outburst of hisses and groans followed her last words, and once more the crowd made a movement as though to force its way to the staircase. The soldiers closed up, lowering their muskets with fixed bayonets to the charge.

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."

"She speaks well! _Evviva la Principessina Bianca!_" shouted the crowd.

"Yes--long live the Principessina Bianca, and long live her betrothed husband, Signor Silvio Rossano! _Evviva_! _Evviva_!" cried Sor Beppe.

His words were taken up with an almost frenzied enthusiasm. It was evident that the peasants had been waiting for some allusion to the _principessina's_ own troubles, now that they had obtained their desire and had heard from her lips that she disapproved of what had been done in the princess's and her name. Concetta Fontana's reports had indeed been cleverly circulated, with a view of securing to Bianca the sympathy and support of the people. The women of the _paese_ had poured into the ears of their husbands, brothers, and lovers such stories of the _principessina's_ unhappiness at being forbidden to marry the man she loved, and at the prospect of being sacrificed to the lust of an old man and the dishonest schemes of the Abbe Roux, as had aroused local indignation to the highest pitch. At the same time, Bianca's defence of the princess and her decided refusal to allow her step-mother to be blamed, had only coincided with the sentiments of the large majority of her hearers. Public opinion in Montefiano had long ago exonerated the princess from any other offence than that of being a foreigner who allowed her own compatriots to interfere in the management of her step-daughter's affairs.

The sight of Silvio Rossano standing by their young _padrona_, who had shown them that she could fearlessly take the part of her people against injustice, was all that had been needed to evoke an unmistakable demonstration that, whatever the princess and her advisers might do, the Montefianesi approved of Bianca's choice.

"_Evviva i fidanzati!_" rang from all parts of the court-yard, while there were also not wanting premature shouts of "_Evviva gli sposi!_"

Bianca blushed scarlet. She stood for a moment hesitating and uncertain, almost unnerved by the acclamations of the crowd of peasants whose threatening attitude a few minutes before had only served to kindle her spirit and rouse her courage. Then, shyly, she turned to Silvio.

"Speak to them," she said, pushing him gently forward.

Silvio was about to obey her, when a sudden movement among the soldiers at the foot of the staircase arrested the attention of the crowd. At a word from their officer, the ranks of the _granatieri_ parted, and Princess Montefiano approached her step-daughter. Monsieur d'Antin was by her side, and the Abbe Roux followed immediately behind them.

Bianca rushed up to her step-mother. "Ah," she exclaimed, quickly, in a low voice, "I am glad you have come! See, the people are quite quiet now. There is no more danger. You must not blame me; I was told that nothing would happen if I came and spoke to them, but that if I did not, then they would be more angry than ever, and the troops would charge--and then--" and she shuddered visibly.

The princess looked at her, and apparently was unable to summon her words for a moment or two. That she was not suffering from fear was evident, for she gazed at the crowd of peasants almost indifferently.

"You are angry," said Bianca. "I am sorry; but I did what I thought--what I was told--was for the best. After all," she added, "they are my father's people, and they wanted me. Surely it was better to try to calm them than to allow a fight with the soldiers! Why should you be angry if I have prevented that?"

"Hush, Bianca, hush!" exclaimed Princess Montefiano. "I am not angry. You did right. I would have come before, but Monsieur l'Abbe Roux persuaded me not to show myself, and until five minutes ago I believed you were in your own room. I have seen and heard everything during the last few minutes from the gallery, but I do not quite understand. Now I have come to learn the truth. Monsignor Lelli," she continued, raising her voice so as to be heard by the crowd, which was now dumb from wonder and curiosity, "you came to see me this afternoon, and I was advised not to receive you. Will you now say what you would have said had I not listened to that advice?"

The Abbe Roux started forward, and was about to speak, but Princess Montefiano waved him back.

"No, monsieur," she said, with dignity, "the people shall hear you afterwards. _Monsignore_," she added, again addressing Don Agostino, "will you have the kindness to explain to me your reasons for wishing to see me this afternoon?"

Don Agostino bowed to her. "My object in asking you to see me, principessa, was to communicate to you personally the requests which would have been made by the deputation you declined to receive. I had, it is true, another and even more pressing object. This was to interest you to prevent the despatch of troops to Montefiano."

The princess did not reply for a moment. Then she said, slowly and emphatically:

"The requests of the deputation which I was advised not to receive, _monsignore_, have been answered by Donna Bianca Acorari. She has promised that certain acts of injustice which have been committed in my name and in hers shall be remedied, and I shall see that her promise is duly carried into effect."

A murmur of applause interrupted her. Monsieur d'Antin, standing a little apart, watched his sister critically.

"_Tiens!_" he said to himself, "Jeanne is a capable woman--more capable than I imagined. She can rise to a situation. If she would only think less of the next world and more of this, she would be more capable still."

"As to the despatch of troops to Montefiano," the princess added, "until five minutes ago I was in ignorance that any such step had been taken. The requisition for military intervention was made without consulting me and without my authority."

"_Evviva la principessina! Viva l'esercito!_" shouted the peasants.

"_Signori_," Princess Montefiano continued, addressing the delegate and the officer in command of the _granatieri_, "perhaps you will be so good as to tell me at whose request you are here?"

The delegate of public safety bustled forward, full of the consciousness of his own importance and dignity.

"I am here at the request of the _sindaco_ of Montefiano," he replied, "to enforce order and respect for the law in this commune."

The princess turned from him abruptly.

"Signor Commandante," she said to the military officer, "I thank you for your discretion in refusing to allow the people to be attacked at the bidding of a civilian. My brother has told me of your declining to order your men to charge the crowd. You may be sure that your conduct will be represented in its proper light to the authorities. In the mean time, perhaps you will tell me who summoned you to Montefiano?"

The captain shrugged his shoulders. "Your _sindaco_, Signora Principessa, telegraphed to the military authorities at Civitacastellana for troops to be despatched at once. An official of the _pubblica sicurezza_ accompanied me, according to the requirements of the law in these circumstances, and the law places me at the Signor Delegate's orders for the time being. Nevertheless, an officer is allowed to use a certain discretion as to carrying out any orders that may in his opinion be inopportune--and I merely exercised that discretion. I may add," he continued, with a glance of admiration at Bianca, "that had it not been for the timely arrival of Donna Bianca Acorari on the scene, and her courage in facing the crowd at a very critical moment, I should probably have been reluctantly compelled to order my men to clear the court-yard. We soldiers do not like that kind of work, Signora Principessa; and both I and my men are grateful to Donna Bianca for having spared us the unpleasant duty of performing it."

Princess Montefiano looked round her.

"Where is the _sindaco_?" she asked.

A movement took place in the rear of the crowd, and presently the _avvocato_ Ricci advanced into the open space.

"I understand, Signor Sindaco," the princess said, "that the troops are here at your request. With the arrangements of the municipal authorities regarding the town of Montefiano I have nothing to do. But within the castle of Montefiano I am mistress. Why was I not informed that troops had been sent for?"

Monsieur d'Antin rubbed his hands together. "Jeanne is superb," he said to himself, "absolutely superb!"

The _sindaco_ looked petrified with astonishment.

"But," he stammered, "it was after consultation with the Signor Abate that I made the official application for troops to be sent. The abate assured me that he was acting in your _eccellenza's_ name. He declared it to be your wish that troops should at once be despatched to protect the castle."

"Monsieur l'Abbe," said the princess, quietly, "is this true?"

"Madame," replied the Abbe Roux, sullenly, "I have already explained that if I did not inform you of the fact that I had applied for military protection against a possible assault on the castle by the peasants, it was because I did not wish unduly to alarm you and the inmates of the castle. I believed that I had full authority to act as I might think best in this as in other matters."

"You were mistaken, monsieur," the princess returned, coldly. "This matter," she continued, "has been from the beginning misrepresented to me. What proof have I that in other matters, also, I have not been deceived?"

"Your excellency has been deceived all down the line!" shouted a voice from the crowd. "It is I, Stefano Mazza, who say it!"

Princess Montefiano turned to Don Agostino.

"Stefano Mazza?" she repeated, inquiringly.

Sor Stefano came forward.

"Your excellency, perhaps, is not aware that the Abate Roux is the lessee of the rents of the property belonging to Casa Acorari at Montefiano," he said.

The princess started violently, and Monsieur d'Antin drew nearer to where she was standing.

"What does this mean?" she exclaimed.

"It means, madame, that the man is a liar!" cried the abbe, hoarsely.

Sor Stefano laughed. "If her excellency desires it," he said, "I will this evening put positive proofs into her hands that it is as I say. _Sicuro!_ the _affittuario_ of these lands is nominally one Signor Oreste Francavalli; is it not so, _eccellenza_? But the Signor Oreste Francavalli is a poor devil of a bankrupt _mercante di campagna_, who has not a lira left in the world, as I know to my cost, and the real holder of the rents is at this moment the Abate Roux. It is not surprising, _eccellenza_, that the _abate_ should have wished to increase his profits."

*XXXIII*

Princess Montefiano seemed to be almost stunned by Sor Stefano's assertion. Once or twice she tried to speak, but appeared to be unable to collect her words.

The Abbe Roux turned furiously to Stefano Mazza. "It is a lie!" he exclaimed. "You cannot prove your assertion. What have I to do with this Oreste Francavalli?"

Sor Stefano laughed scornfully.

"_Mah!_" he returned. "It seems that you have a great deal to do with him, Signor Abate. And I, too, have had a great deal to do with him, as I shall be happy to prove to you from certain documents which I do not carry about with me but which I can produce for her excellency's inspection, should she care to see them. _Sicuro_! Francavalli is an old acquaintance of mine--an old client, I may say. You are probably unaware, Signor Abate, that I found myself reluctantly obliged to make him a bankrupt. It was naturally, therefore, somewhat of a surprise to me to learn that Signor Francavalli had become the new lessee of the _latifondo_ of Montefiano. A man does not offer himself as _affittuario_ of a large property unless he has some capital at his back--or, if he does do so, his offer is not usually accepted by the administration of that property. It was news to me--interesting news--that Francavalli had capital; for he had certainly not discharged all his liabilities to his creditors, of whom I am not the least important. Do you understand, Signor Abate?"

"It is untrue," the abbe repeated. "Francavalli has never been a bankrupt."

"Ah, no?" returned Stefano Mazza, dryly. "But I tell you that he is a bankrupt--and I will tell you something more, Signor Abate. If Francavalli were the real _affittuario_ of these lands, then he would be a fraudulent bankrupt, for he would be in possession of capital and of income which would belong to his creditors. But he is not the real lessee of the lands belonging to Casa Acorari."

"And who says that he is not so?" asked the abbe.

Sor Stefano shrugged his shoulders. "He says so himself," he replied. "Or, rather," he added, "I happen to possess a document signed by him, declaring that he is merely the nominal lessee; that in consideration of a sum of money advanced by you, Signor Abate, he allowed you to use his name, but that the real lessee is yourself. Had it not been for Francavalli's readiness to sign the said document, I should have been compelled to proceed against him for fraud. _Sicuro!_ you have been very cautious, Signor Abate, but not quite cautious enough. If you had happened to consult me, I could have told you that in selecting the Signor Oreste Francavalli as your confidant, you had made a bad choice;" and Sor Stefano laughed dryly.

For a moment the Abbe Roux remained silent. He was evidently unable to refute Sor Stefano's words, spoken as they were with the calm conviction of a man who knew that he was in a position to substantiate them. Then he turned to Princess Montefiano.

"Madame," he said, "it is true that, in a sense, I am the purchaser of the right to take the rents of these lands; and also that, as I did not wish to appear as the lessee, I arranged with Francavalli that the affair should be carried out in his name. You are aware, madame, that a larger annual sum is now paid by the lessee than has hitherto been the case, and that the half-yearly payments of this sum have been punctually made. This being so, I do not see that the fact of my being the real lessee instead of Francavalli or another need concern anybody but myself. You, Madame la Princesse, are better off in consequence of my having taken over the lease; and when I told you that a friend of mine was disposed to pay more for the lease of the rents than the lessee whose tenure was just expiring, I only spoke the truth."

Princess Montefiano hesitated, and then turned to her brother with a distressed look on her face. "It is true," she said, in a low voice. "Monsieur l'Abbe advised me not to give the late _affittuario_ a renewal of his term, promising me that he would find a more satisfactory lessee. As he says, we have been better off since the change, and I do not see--"

"_Eccellenza_," interrupted Sor Stefano, "there is more to say, and with your permission, it had better be said now! The peasants are here not only to obtain justice for themselves, but to support their _padrona_, the Principessina Bianca--is it not so?" he added, turning towards the crowd.

"Yes--yes! Long live the Principessina Bianca!" resounded from all parts of the court-yard. Princess Montefiano bit her lip.

"What does he mean?" she asked, abruptly, of Don Agostino.

"_Evviva la principessina! Evviva! Abbasso gli stranieri! Evviva il fidanzato della principessina!_"

The shouts were raised again and again, and among them were others, in which Baron d'Antin was alluded to in terms neither delicate nor complimentary.

The princess flushed with anger.

"_Monsignore_," she exclaimed, turning again to Don Agostino, "am I to understand that you, the _parroco_ of Montefiano, encourage your people to insult my brother and myself? I insist upon an explanation, but I will not listen to it from peasants--"

"_Signora principessa_," said Don Agostino, quietly, "you are quite right. Explanations are necessary, but not here--not in the presence of the crowd. Let the Signor Delegato here dismiss the troops, and at a word from you and from Donna Bianca Acorari, the people will disperse quietly. Afterwards," he added, "I shall be entirely at your service to give what explanations I can of the attitude of the peasants."

Princess Montefiano considered for a moment. "So be it, _monsignore_," she said, at length; and then, turning to the delegate, she added: "_Signore_, as I observed a few minutes ago, I have no right to interfere with the arrangements of the authorities outside these walls; but inside the castle of Montefiano I am mistress, and I beg of you to order the troops to retire. We, I and my step-daughter, have no need of their protection. We are among our own people."

The officer hesitated and looked at Monsieur d'Antin, who had preserved an imperturbable demeanor of good-humor even during the uncomplimentary epithets cast at him by the crowd--epithets, indeed, that he had scarcely understood so well as did the princess.

"My sister is right, _signore_," Monsieur d'Antin observed, tranquilly. "If there are explanations to be made, it is scarcely necessary that the whole population of Montefiano, a company of grenadiers and a detachment of infantry should assist at them. That gentleman," he continued, indicating Sor Stefano, "appears to have considerable authority with the peasants. No doubt he will persuade them to leave the castle quietly, now that they have received assurances that their grievances will be removed."

Sor Stefano turned to the crowd. "Her excellency, the princess, has requested the troops to retire," he said, in a loud voice. "Since she and the _principessina_ are here at Montefiano they need no soldiers to protect them. Therefore you will leave the castle quietly and go to your own homes."

"We will go if the _principessina_ and her _fidanzato_ tell us to go!" shouted a voice from among the group of younger men.

Princess Montefiano drew back suddenly, and her face flushed. For a moment she seemed as if about to resent so obvious an affront to her position and authority.

Monsieur d'Antin advanced towards her. "Jeanne," he said, in a low voice, "I think you would be wise to allow Bianca to complete her office of peacemaker. The peasants evidently are ready to listen to her, and to do what she tells them. Is it not so, _monsignore_?" he added, turning to Don Agostino.

Don Agostino glanced at him with some surprise, and the Abbe Roux's countenance exhibited both astonishment and anger.

"You are quite right, monsieur," Don Agostino replied. "The people will listen to Donna Bianca, and in these cases it is generally prudent to seize every opportunity of bringing matters to a peaceful solution. Moreover," he continued, "if I may presume to say so, the fact of Madame la Princesse putting Donna Bianca forward will have an excellent effect."

Princess Montefiano looked at him quickly. "You mean--" she began, and then she paused, abruptly.

"Madame," Don Agostino said, returning her look and making a slight gesture of apology, "I mean that your encouraging Donna Bianca Acorari to take her rightful position before the people of Montefiano will remove many misunderstandings and stop much idle gossip."

The princess gazed inquiringly at him for a moment, then she turned to Bianca. "Speak to them, _figlia mia_," she said, quietly.

Bianca shook her head. "No," she replied; "now that you are here, it is for you to speak to them. I came because I knew--"

"You knew what?" interrupted Princess Montefiano.

"Oh, that Monsieur l'Abbe had told you nothing--that you did not even know the soldiers had been sent for."

"_La principessina_!" shouted the crowd, impatient with a colloquy in a language it could not understand. "_Vogliamo sentire la principessina_!"

Princess Montefiano took her step-daughter by the hand and led her forward. "Speak to them," she repeated, in Italian; and as she spoke, she drew back, leaving Bianca standing in front of her.

The words and the action accompanying them met with an immediate response from the peasants. _"Evviva la principessa!_" they cried, and then pressed forward until Bianca was almost surrounded.

"Go," she said, in a quiet, clear voice--"go back to your homes, now you know that neither my step-mother nor I will allow any injustice to be done to our people. _Signori_," she added, addressing the delegate and the officer in command of the _granatieri_, "you will order the troops to retire, is it not true? You see well that we are in no danger here at Montefiano."

An outburst of approval drowned the remainder of her words, and with a shrug of the shoulders the civil official turned to the officer in command and bade him give the order to his men to leave the court-yard.

The peasants fell back to allow the troops to pass through their midst, and cheered the captain of the _granatieri_ as he marched through the gateway at the head of his company.

As the last of the soldiers disappeared under the archway, the majority of the peasants prepared tranquilly to follow them. A certain number lingered, however, talking eagerly among themselves, and presently shouts of "_Evviva i fidanzati!_" were raised, succeeded by cries of "_Evviva Rossano!_"

Princess Montefiano turned hastily, and a look of astonishment and anger crossed her face.

"You see, madame," said the Abbe Roux, quickly, "the whole affair has another scope than that which you have been made to believe to be the case. There is the true ringleader of the peasants"--and he pointed scornfully to Silvio Rossano, who was urging the remainder of the crowd to leave the castle without making any further demonstration.

The princess did not answer, but she looked intently at Silvio for a moment. Then she turned to her brother. "Philippe," she said, coldly, "you will have the goodness to inform Signor Rossano that his presence here is unwelcome, and that he must leave the castle with--his friends!"

Bianca started forward. "No," she exclaimed, abruptly; "if you send that message, Monsieur d'Antin shall not be the bearer of it! It is an insult, a--"

Princess Montefiano waved her back indignantly. "Have you no shame?" she said, rapidly, beneath her breath.

Monsieur d'Antin smiled. "Bianca is right, Jeanne," he observed. "I prefer not to be the bearer of your message. No doubt Monsieur l'Abbe will undertake to deliver it," and then he laughed gently.

Bianca looked at him for a moment in evident perplexity, and then quickly averted her gaze.

"Wait," she said to her step-mother, earnestly--"wait till you have heard--till you know."

Princess Montefiano gave a gesture of impatience.

"I think you are all mad!" she exclaimed, angrily. "And in this, at least, I will be obeyed. Philippe--"

Don Agostino interrupted her.

"Madame," he said, "let me entreat you not to insist. 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 Abbe Roux and Monsieur d'Antin steadily. "Donna Bianca Acorari and yourself have been the victims of a dishonorable intrigue. Ah, I am not afraid to use the expression, for I can prove my words."

"But you may be mistaken, _monsignore_--you may be mistaken," observed Monsieur d'Antin, airily, gently rubbing his hands as he spoke.

"If I am so, monsieur, it is for you and the Abbe Roux to prove it," returned Don Agostino, coldly.

"Ah, as to that," Monsieur d'Antin said, composedly, "I can only speak for myself. Monsieur l'Abbe Roux must make his own defence. I am not responsible for his actions."

The abbe's face grew livid.

"What do you mean?" he exclaimed, hoarsely. "Do you mean to say that your honor is less attacked than mine by this disgraced priest?"

"Honor?" repeated Monsieur d'Antin; "honor, Monsieur l'Abbe? Oh, la, la! Monsignor Lelli is right, Jeanne," he continued. "This is not the place for explanations. I would suggest retiring in-doors."

The princess looked from one to the other. "I do not understand," she said, at length, "but if I am to hear of more deceptions--more abuses of my trust and confidence--this is certainly not the moment to discuss them. Come, Bianca! _Monsignore_," she continued, "you will doubtless explain to me your words in the presence of Monsieur l'Abbe Roux and my brother."

Don Agostino bowed. "I desire nothing better, madame," he said, and then he paused and glanced at Silvio. "I must ask that Signor Rossano may also be present," he added, "since what I and others have to say concerns him nearly, and it is only fair to him and to Donna Bianca that he should hear it."

The princess gave a gesture of dissent.

"No," she replied, "Signor Rossano is a stranger. I cannot admit that he is in any way concerned with my step-daughter's affairs or with my own."

Don Agostino hesitated for a moment. Then he said, quietly: "I cannot press the subject, madame. It is possible, however, that you may change your opinion."

"When I do so, I will send for Signor Rossano," returned Princess Montefiano, obdurately. "Come, Bianca," she repeated, "we will hear what Monsignor Lelli has to say."

The court-yard was by this time nearly empty. Fontana and Sor Stefano, together with a few of the older and more prominent tenants, alone remained. Princess Montefiano turned away, and, accompanied by Bianca, who, now that she had played her part, seemed to be overcome by a nervous shyness, slowly ascended the flight of steps leading up to the portico of the _piano nobile_. Monsieur d'Antin and the Abbe Roux followed them in silence, but Don Agostino lingered for a moment.

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 Abbe 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 Abbe 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 Abbe 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 Abbe 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 abbe had succeeded in making money out of his position in the Montefiano household. Indeed, Monsieur l'Abbe 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 abbe 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 Abbe Roux? Well, the Abbe 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 Abbe 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 Abbe Roux to continue for some years to farm the rents of Donna Bianca's lands. Briefly, madame, you have been tricked by the Abbe Roux, and, I regret to say, by your brother, who, in return for the abbe'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'Abbe Roux?"

Don Agostino looked at him steadily.

"I derive my information from those who have overheard conversations between you and the Abbe 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 Abbe Roux?"

Monsieur d'Antin shrugged his shoulders. "I have not the least intention of denying it," he observed, calmly.

"Philippe!" exclaimed the princess.

The abbe started forward. "_Imbecile!_" he muttered, under his breath.

"It is perfectly true," pursued Monsieur d'Antin, ignoring him. "I entered into the compact with Monsieur l'Abbe, 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'Abbe 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'Abbe, 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 abbe, 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'Abbe, 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'Abbe 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 Abbe 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 a la guerre, n'est-ce pas_, Monsieur l'Abbe? Ha, ha, ha!" and Monsieur d'Antin laughed good-humoredly.

The Abbe 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 Abbe 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 Cure, 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.