The Passport

Don Agostino's reflections were disturbed by the princess addressing him.

"Monsignore," she said, quietly, "we can now discuss, in private, matters which it was not fitting to discuss before my step-daughter. I must ask you to explain the meaning of certain expressions you have used regarding Donna Bianca Acorari. I do not wish you to be under any misapprehension, so it will be perhaps as well that I should tell you that my brother has had my full consent in wishing to make Donna Bianca his wife. You appear to be aware that my step-daughter has allowed herself to form another attachment in – in an entirely undesirable quarter. I am her guardian, and without my consent she cannot marry until she is twenty-one. This, monsignore, was a special clause to her father's will."

"Madame, I am under no misapprehension," returned Don Agostino. "It is rather you who are so and I regret to be obliged to say what will give you pain to hear."

"Continue, monsignore," said Princess Montefiano, as he paused.

"You ought to know, madame, that if you have been persuaded to sanction a union between Baron d'Antin and your step-daughter, it is because such a union would have enabled the Abbé Roux to continue for some years to farm the rents of Donna Bianca's lands. Briefly, madame, you have been tricked by the Abbé Roux, and, I regret to say, by your brother, who, in return for the abbé's assistance in persuading you to allow such a marriage, engaged not to interfere with his lease of the rents for a certain period, before the expiration of which Donna Bianca would long have attained her majority. The danger of her marrying an honest gentleman of good family, who has been represented to you as an adventurer and a nobody, has been perpetually put forward with the object of gaining your consent to what your own sense of justice, of propriety, madame, would otherwise have forbidden you to contemplate."

Princess Montefiano started up from her chair. "Monsignore!" she exclaimed; "do you know what you are saying? You forget that you are accusing my brother of a villanous action! Philippe," she continued, passionately, "tell Monsignor Lelli that he is mistaken – tell him that he lies, if you like – but do not let me think that you, my brother, have also deceived me – that you could lend yourself to such a horrible intrigue – "

"My dear Jeanne!" interrupted Monsieur d'Antin. "My dear Jeanne!" he repeated, and then he laughed softly.

"It is incredible – monstrous! I will not believe it!" Princess Montefiano exclaimed, with increasing agitation.

Monsieur d'Antin blew a ring of smoke into the air from his cigarette. "Monsignor Lelli is mistaken, Jeanne," he observed, tranquilly; "one can say as much to him without offence. But to say that he lies would not be permissible. It would be – well, an exaggeration. Before replying to his accusation, I should like to ask Monsignor Lelli on what grounds he bases it. He does not, I presume, derive his information from Monsieur l'Abbé Roux?"

Don Agostino looked at him steadily.

"I derive my information from those who have overheard conversations between you and the Abbé Roux – conversations carried on, as you believed, in private – in which your plans were very fully discussed. Can you deny, monsieur, that the arrangement I have named exists between you and the Abbé Roux?"

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

"Philippe!" exclaimed the princess.

The abbé started forward. "Imbécile!" he muttered, under his breath.

"It is perfectly true," pursued Monsieur d'Antin, ignoring him. "I entered into the compact with Monsieur l'Abbé, the nature of which Monsignor Lelli has described fairly accurately. You see, my dear Jeanne," he continued, "I have not your reverence for the clergy, and I thought it possible – just possible – that Monsieur l'Abbé Roux was – well, taking advantage of your belief in the apostolic succession. Is not that the correct term? By degrees I became convinced of it. It amused me to see how far Monsieur l'Abbé, with a little encouragement, would go; and I – yes, I myself – proposed to him the arrangement which Monsignor Lelli has just disclosed. It was eagerly jumped at, my little proposal," and Monsieur d'Antin rubbed his hands together gently, with a quiet chuckle.

"It is a lie!" cried the abbé, furiously. "You confessed to me that you were in love with Donna Bianca, and asked me to use my influence with the princess to remove her objections to your becoming the husband of her step-daughter."

"And you gave me absolution," returned Monsieur d'Antin, dryly. "Ah, yes, you certainly gave me absolution – but conditionally, Monsieur l'Abbé, always conditionally, you know!"

"But, Philippe," interrupted Princess Montefiano, "I do not understand. You told me yourself that you loved Bianca – that you would only be happy when she consented to be your wife."

"Quite true, my dear Jeanne," Monsieur d'Antin replied. "What would you have? I do not wear the soutane, so I have no protection against the weaknesses of the flesh. Yes, your step-daughter is charming, adorable – but her charms are not for me. She has made that very clear to me. It is deplorable, but I have failed, and there is nothing left for me but to retire in favor of a more fortunate rival. But my failure has nothing to do with the point – nothing at all. If Monsieur l'Abbé wants further explanations of my conduct in allowing him to believe that in return for his assistance in my unlucky affair of the heart I should not interfere with his affairs of the pocket, I am quite ready to give them to him. But, monsieur," he added, as the Abbé Roux, white with rage and mortification, attempted to interrupt him, "do not forget that in giving me absolution when I made my little confession to you of my passion for Donna Bianca, you stipulated for something in return. It is always so, is it not? One is not supposed to come to le bon Dieu empty handed. You made it clear that without your support I could never hope to gain my sister's consent to my object, and that you were only disposed to accord this support on the condition of my not interfering with your rights over the rents of the Montefiano lands.

"Well, I agreed; but I agreed under that most convenient of all compromises – a mental reservation. A la guerre comme à la guerre, n'est-ce pas, Monsieur l'Abbé? Ha, ha, ha!" and Monsieur d'Antin laughed good-humoredly.

The Abbé Roux remained silent. Perhaps he was thinking that the suspicions he had at times entertained as to whether it were not Monsieur d'Antin who was manipulating him rather than he Monsieur d'Antin, had turned out to be entirely justifiable.

In the mean time, Don Agostino had been regarding Monsieur d'Antin with a peculiar expression, which was certainly not that of a person convinced of the truth of what he had just heard.

"You wish me to understand, then," he said to him, dryly, "that you merely pretended to fall in with the Abbé Roux's suggestions, in order to ascertain how far your suspicions that he was abusing his position as confidential adviser to Madame la Princesse were correct?"

Monsieur d'Antin turned to him with admirable dignity.

"Assuredly, monsignore," he replied. "Do you presume, then, to suppose that I should lend myself to a conspiracy to deceive my own sister, and to enrich an unworthy individual at her and Donna Bianca Acorari's expense? No, monsieur! I may have my little weaknesses where women are concerned, and I frankly admit that had Donna Bianca not rejected my advances I should have considered myself a very happy man. But where my honor is concerned, Monsieur le Curé, or the honor of my family, I, Philippe d'Antin, have no weaknesses!"

Don Agostino looked at him hard, and his finely moulded lips curved in an ironical smile.

"I make you my compliments, Monsieur le Baron," he said, quietly. "One sees that you have done your best to protect yourself from possible misconstructions being placed upon your actions."

Monsieur d'Antin bowed and smiled benignly.

"Precisely," he said, suavely. "You, monsignore, as a man of the world, will understand – "

"Everything," interposed Don Agostino, with a slight shrug of the shoulders.

At this moment Princess Montefiano, who had been listening attentively to all that had passed, suddenly rose from her chair.

"Monsieur l'Abbé," she said, coldly, "I have heard enough to convince me that I need no longer trouble you for your advice or assistance in the management of my affairs.

"No, monsieur," she continued, as the abbé tried to speak, "excuses are useless. My confidence has been abused; and you have presumed to mislead me in the exercise of my authority over my step-daughter and her affairs for motives of your own. You may return to Rome, monsieur, since your services here are no longer required. You will have ample time to drive to Attigliano and take the evening train."

"Madame!" exclaimed the Abbé Roux.

"Not a word, sir," returned the princess, imperiously. "I trusted you as a friend and as a priest. You have proved yourself unworthy of that trust, and it is enough. Until the last moment – until the troops were within these walls – you have lied to me – yes, lied. And for what? In order to make money; in order – "

Princess Montefiano's voice failed her, and, suddenly overcome, she sat down in her chair. The Abbé Roux advanced towards her.

"Yes," he said, in accents trembling with anger and mortification – "yes, I will go to Rome, and all Rome shall hear how Donna Bianca Acorari has compromised herself, and how she has given herself to the first man who crossed her path. You may turn me out of your house, madame, but you cannot close my mouth. And you," he added, turning to Monsieur d'Antin, "you are a liar and a coward!"

Baron d'Antin shrugged his shoulders. "And you, Monsieur l'Abbé," he replied, "are a priest; otherwise – "

"Philippe," said the princess, in a hard, dry voice, "will you be so kind as to ring the bell?"

"Madame!" vociferated the abbé again.

The princess took no notice of him, and the maggior-domoanswered the summons with suspicious promptitude.

"Giovanni," Princess Montefiano said, "a carriage will be wanted to take the Signor Abate and his luggage to Attigliano in time for the evening train to Rome.

"Monsieur," continued the princess, "I will detain you no longer. You have doubtless arrangements to make for your departure."

For a moment the Abbé Roux seemed as though about to make an appeal to her. Then, without uttering a word, he walked hastily across the apartment and disappeared through the double doors leading into the dining-room, beyond which the room he had occupied as his study was situated.

He had scarcely gone when Princess Montefiano turned to her brother and Don Agostino.

"He will ruin that poor girl's reputation!" she exclaimed, bitterly, "and all Rome will say that I have neglected my duty towards her because she is not my own child."

"It will be very easy to prevent anything of the kind, princess," said Don Agostino, quickly.

The princess looked at him. "And how, monsignore?" she asked.

"By allowing Donna Bianca to marry the man she loves," returned Don Agostino, "the man who would make her an absolutely worthy husband."

"The son of an infidel professor? Never, monsignore!" exclaimed Princess Montefiano, emphatically. "Besides," she added, and then, pausing abruptly, she glanced at Monsieur d'Antin.