The Passport

Don Agostino looked at him also, and as their eyes met Baron d'Antin averted his own. He read an expression of warning in Don Agostino's glance, a silent hint that, however successfully he might have deceived his sister in his adroit repudiation of any genuine compact having existed between the Abbé Roux and himself, he had not for an instant deceived Monsignor Lelli.

"Monsieur le Baron has already announced his readiness to accept Donna Bianca's refusal to entertain his offer," Don Agostino observed. "Is it not so?" he added, addressing Monsieur d'Antin.

The latter nodded. "You surely would not wish me to force my love upon Bianca?" he said to his sister. "You know, Jeanne, that she will have none of it, and I – well, I must submit," and he sighed.

"No, no, Philippe, of course I should not wish that," the princess replied, hurriedly. "Indeed," she continued, "I am relieved. I never approved of your proposal, and I would never have consented to it, had not the Abbé Roux insisted that Bianca had hopelessly compromised herself."

"But how compromised herself, madame?" interrupted Don Agostino, almost angrily. "Because your step-daughter has given her love to one who loves and respects her, whom she, too, loves, and who is worthy of her love, in what or how has she compromised herself? But these are fables, princess, malicious insinuations, invented for the purpose of advancing the schemes of that – that imbroglione who has just left us. At least, receive young Rossano, madame, and hear what he has to say for himself. It is only justice – justice to him and to Donna Bianca. Why ruin the happiness of two young lives because of caste prejudices, and especially when the difference is one of rank only – for the Rossano are an old and well-born family, lacking nothing but a title to make them the equals of the Acorari."

Princess Montefiano shook her head.

"A man may take his wife from the bourgeoisie," she said, "and it does not matter so much. But a woman loses caste by marrying beneath her. But it is not the question of difference in position only," she continued. "You, monsignore, cannot expect a stanch Catholic, such as I am, to consent to my step-daughter's marriage to the son of a notorious sceptic and freemason."

"The Senator Rossano may be a sceptic," said Don Agostino, "but he is certainly not a freemason, and he is certainly not antichristian."

"Not a freemason?" repeated the princess. "But, monsignore, I have been told that he is one of the most prominent of that abominable organization. I have heard that he is a frequent attendant at those blasphemous orgies in Rome in which sacrileges are committed that I dare not name."

Don Agostino smiled. "The Abbé Roux was no doubt your informant," he observed. "I have known Professor Rossano for many years, and he is most certainly not a freemason. The statement that he is so is as false and fantastic as the legends concerning the orgies and sacrileges to which you have just alluded. May I suggest, princess, that you would do well not to take the assertions of the Abbé Roux too seriously?"

Princess Montefiano colored. "It would indeed seem so," she replied, bitterly. "Philippe," she added, suddenly, turning to her brother, "what is your advice? Shall I do as Monsignor Lelli wishes, and receive Signor Rossano?"

Monsieur d'Antin glanced at Don Agostino.

"Really, Jeanne," he replied, "you are putting my generosity to a severe test, and I should prefer, under the circumstances, to offer no advice. However, I will be generous; and since the young man is here – well, you might take the opportunity of forming your own judgment as to his suitability to become the husband of your step-daughter. At least, I beg of you to spare me the ordeal of being present at your interview. Really, the events of this afternoon have been sufficiently disturbing to the nerves. With your permission, I will retire to my own room and leave Monsignor Lelli to support you during your conversation with my fortunate rival. But, before I leave you, there are one or two little points that I should like to have explained to me, and no doubt Monsignor Lelli can explain them.

"In the first place," continued Monsieur d'Antin, "you, monsignore, say that you derive your information from some person or persons who overheard conversations between me and the Abbé Roux – conversations which we believed to be held in private. I confess that I do not understand how this could be the case; although I can perfectly understand how any third person overhearing certain conversations I have had with the abbé would very naturally conclude that I was his confederate."

"You may not understand," replied Don Agostino; "nevertheless, you were overheard, and much of what passed between you and the Abbé Roux has been repeated in Montefiano. It was owing to this fact, and to Stefano Mazza's assurances that the abbé was in reality the affittuario of the rents, that the peasantry were so determined to see and speak with Donna Bianca. The whole paeseknew, madame," he added to the princess, "what you were in ignorance of. I was very certain that you were being deceived, and it was this certainty which made me so anxious to see you personally, before any disturbance should break out."

Monsieur d'Antin was silent for a moment. He had never contemplated the possibility of his conversations with the abbé becoming known. They had been, as he was well aware, compromising enough, and he now felt more convinced than ever that Monsignor Lelli had not been deceived by his disavowal of any genuine intention to make himself a partner in the Abbé Roux's schemes, nor by his declaration that he had only feigned to agree with them in order to prove to himself the priest's unworthiness to enjoy his sister's confidence.

Monsieur d'Antin, however, was not wanting in assurance. Its possession had on more than one occasion stood him in good Stead, and the present situation was certainly one in which assurance and aplomb were needed. It did not greatly concern him what Monsignor Lelli might or might not privately think of him. He had no intention, however, of forfeiting his sister's good opinion, and her summary dismissal of the Abbé Roux had shown him very plainly that Jeanne's character was not quite so weak as he had supposed.

"One must conclude that the walls of Montefiano have ears," he said at length; "but since the eavesdroppers, whoever they may have been, placed a wrong, though very natural, interpretation on what they overheard – at least, so far as my part in the affair was concerned – it does not appear to me greatly to matter."

"Philippe," exclaimed the princess, "for a moment I wronged you. I thought you, too, had deceived me. That would have been a hard thing to bear, for – "

"My dear Jeanne," interrupted Monsieur d'Antin, "do not think of it again, I beg of you. I saw that you suspected me, but I assure you that I made every allowance for you under the circumstances. Let us trust that now you are relieved of the Abbé Roux's presence, there will be no more misunderstandings. After all, Jeanne, a brother is more likely to be disinterested than a stranger who is paid for his services; is it not so?"

Don Agostino looked from Baron d'Antin to the princess, but he said nothing. Indeed, it was only by a slightly ironical smile that he betrayed any sign of having listened to Monsieur d'Antin's remarks.

Monsieur d'Antin did not continue the subject. He kissed his sister affectionately, and then observed: "I leave you, my dear Jeanne. As I said before, the last hour or so has been sufficiently trying to the nerves, and in any case, I do not feel equal to assisting at your interview with Monsieur Silvio Rossano. All the same, I am generous enough to say that, in my opinion, you do quite right to receive him. It may be that our friend the abbé has painted him in blacker colors that he deserves, and perhaps your interview with him will remove other misunderstandings. My only desire, Jeanne, is for Bianca's happiness," and Monsieur d'Antin placed his hand on his heart and sighed.

"Au revoir, monsieur," he continued, bowing to Don Agostino; "à bientôt, I hope," and then, humming a little tune to himself, he left the room.

"My brother has certainly a generous nature," remarked Princess Montefiano. Don Agostino did not consider himself called upon to reply to her observation.

"You have known this young Rossano for some time, monsignore, is it not so?" she asked, presently.

"For some time – yes," Don Agostino replied; "not for long, certainly," he added, "but I know enough of him from his father, who, as I told you, madame, is an old friend of mine, to make me confident that he would make any woman a good husband."

"The Professor Rossano is not an individual of whom I could approve," the princess said, dryly. "Such men do much to create unhappiness in family life by their teaching. You must pardon me if I say that I should not accept his opinion concerning a young man's character."

"Because you do not know him, princess," returned Don Agostino, bluntly. "If I had not full confidence both in Professor Rossano and in his son," he added, "I should certainly not sympathize with the latter in his desire to marry Donna Bianca Acorari. The responsibility would have been too great, and – " He hesitated for a moment, and then was silent.

Princess Montefiano glanced at him with some curiosity. "My responsibility is great," she said, "for my step-daughter is certainly not like other girls. She has a peculiar disposition – inherited, I fear, from her mother – my poor husband's first wife. I do not wish to speak ill of the dead, monsignore, but – "

"No," exclaimed Don Agostino, abruptly, "no, madame! Let the dead rest in peace."

Princess Montefiano made the sign of the cross. "Of course," she said, gravely. "But I have a duty towards the living, and I cannot forget that my step-daughter's mother was – well, not all she should have been as a wife. Oh, I do not mean to imply that, after her marriage, she was guilty of any misconduct," she continued, hurriedly, "but she did not make her husband happy – it was a wretched marriage. At any rate, monsignore, I am not injuring her memory by saying that she never loved my poor husband. She had formed an unfortunate attachment, before her marriage, for somebody who was not, I believe, quite her equal, and this seems to have ruined her whole life. You cannot wonder if I am determined to prevent her daughter from falling into the same unhappy circumstances. Indeed, I have sometimes felt an almost superstitious alarm lest the mother's story were destined to be repeated in her daughter's life. It is certainly strange that Bianca also should have formed this violent attachment for a young man who, however worthy he may be individually, is not of her own order."

Don Agostino did not answer immediately. He leaned his arm upon a table beside him, and his face was partially concealed by his hand.

Presently he raised his head and looked earnestly at Princess Montefiano.

"Madame," he said, in a low voice, "you bear the name and have succeeded to the place of her who is no longer here to speak in her own behalf. Do not, I beg of you, misjudge her."

The princess started. "Monsignore!" she exclaimed. "What do you know of my husband's first wife? You speak as though her story were known to you. But I forgot. No doubt, during the years you were in Rome you heard stories concerning the disagreements between her and the prince; for I believe there was much gossip at one time."

"I knew her story well, princess," replied Don Agostino, quietly. "Perhaps I ought to tell you that very few people knew it better."

"You knew her?" the princess asked, with surprise.

"Yes – I knew her."

Princess Montefiano hesitated for a moment.

"Ah!" she said, at length. "You were, perhaps, in her confidence, monsignore– in your priestly capacity, I mean. If that is the case, of course we will not discuss the subject any more. You must forgive me, but I was quite unaware that you even knew her history, and still less that you had been personally acquainted with her. Naturally, under the circumstances, you would not wish to hear her conduct discussed, especially by me. Believe me, it is only my desire to do my duty by the child she left which makes me dread taking any action which might lead to that child following in her mother's footsteps."

"I was in her confidence – yes," said Don Agostino, after a pause, "but not in the sense you mean, princess – not as a priest. I knew her – ah, many years ago – and you are right: I cannot discuss the subject. At the same time, will you permit me to ask you a question?"

Princess Montefiano bent her head without speaking.

"Are you sure," proceeded Don Agostino, "that in your determination to oppose Donna Bianca's love for Silvio Rossano you are not running the grave risk of bringing about the very state of things you wish to avoid? Ah, madame," he continued, earnestly, "I must ask for your patience – for your pardon – if I seem to interfere in matters which you might justly tell me can be no concern of mine. You fear lest your step-daughter may have inherited her mother's nature. Well, I believe your fears to be justified. Her mother loved once, and once only, during her lifetime, and, strangely enough, under circumstances almost identical with those accompanying Donna Bianca's attachment. She was forced to marry a man she did not love, in order to satisfy the prejudices and the ambition of her family. What was the result, madame? Disaster – unhappiness. What will be the result of pursuing the same course with the daughter as that pursued with the mother – in the case of two natures so similar?

"And whom will you bring forward in the place of young Rossano? Some Roman with a title borrowed from his father, but with nothing else; some young spendthrift who, like many we could name, has paid his court to every rich American, to every wealthy foreign girl, Christian or Jewess, in the hope of buying her fortune with his name – and who will use his wife's money to pay off his creditors and to support a mistress. We need not – we who know Rome – seek far in order to find such examples, princess. You talk of responsibility. Do you venture to contemplate what responsibility for such a course would mean?"

He spoke earnestly, gravely, with a note of warning in his voice which silenced the objections already rising to Princess Montefiano's lips. The princess did not know very much of the under-currents of life, but she was sufficiently well acquainted with the world to be aware that Monsignor Lelli had not exaggerated his presentment of them. Perhaps, too, she contrasted in her own mind his simple, straightforward statements with the more flowery moral speeches she had been accustomed to hear from the Abbé Roux.

"I want my step-daughter to marry happily," she repeated; "and – yes, I will see this young man, monsignore. But I will not give my consent to my step-daughter marrying him until I have satisfied myself that he is worthy to be her husband. The fact of the Rossanos not being noble, is, after all, not an insuperable difficulty – one hears of cases every day in which traditions of class are departed from – "

"It is a mere question of money," interrupted Don Agostino. "And money, to make a very banal remark, does not always bring happiness; whereas love – Princess," he added, abruptly, "I feel sure that you will not repent your action in receiving this young Rossano. I will bring him to you; and then, if you will permit me, I will leave you to speak with him alone. Afterwards, if you wish to see me, I shall be entirely at your service."

"Certainly, monsignore!" exclaimed Princess Montefiano, hurriedly. "There is much that I wish to learn

XXXV

Don Agostino was amused to find Silvio engaged in earnest conversation with Concetta Fontana outside the court-yard of the castle. The open space beyond the gateway, lately the scene of so much confusion, was now entirely deserted; for the peasants had retired into the paese, where all the Montefianesi – men, women, and children – were busy discussing the events of the last few hours at the tops of their voices.