CHAPTER VII.
When San Giacinto heard Corona's explanation of Faustina'sdisappearance, he said nothing. He did not believe the story in theleast, but if every one was satisfied there was no reason why he shouldnot be satisfied also. Though he saw well enough that the tale was apure invention, and that there was something behind it which was not tobe known, the result was, on the whole, exactly what he desired. Hereceived the thanks of the Montevarchi household for his fruitlessexertions with a smile of gratification, and congratulated the princessupon the happy issue of the adventure. He made no present attempt toascertain the real truth by asking questions which would have been hardto answer, for he was delighted that the incident should be explainedaway and forgotten at once. Donna Faustina's disappearance was ofcourse freely discussed and variously commented, but the generalverdict of the world was contrary to San Giacinto's privateconclusions. People said that the account given by the family must betrue, since it was absurd to suppose that a child just out of theconvent could be either so foolish or so courageous as to go out aloneat such a moment. No other hypothesis was in the least tenable, and thedemonstration offered must be accepted as giving the only solution ofthe problem. San Giacinto told no one that he thought differently.
It was before all things his intention to establish himself firmly inRoman society, and his natural tact told him that the best way toaccomplish this was to offend no one, and to endorse without questionthe opinion of the majority. Moreover, as a part of his plan forassuring his position consisted in marrying Faustina's sister, hisinterest lay manifestly in protecting the good name of her family byevery means in his power. He knew that old Montevarchi passed for beingone of the most rigid amongst the stiff company of the strait-laced,and that the prince was as careful of the conduct of his children, ashis father had formerly been in regard to his own doings. AscanioBellegra was the result of this home education, and already bid fair tofollow in his parent's footsteps. Christian virtues are certainly notincompatible with manliness, but the practice of them as maintained byPrince Montevarchi had made his son Ascanio a colourless creature,rather non-bad than good, clothed in a garment of righteousness thatfitted him only because his harmless soul had no salient bosses ofgoodness, any more than it was disfigured by any reprehensibledepressions capable of harbouring evil.
There is a class of men in certain states of society who are manly, butnot masculine. There is nothing paradoxical in the statement, nor is ita mere play upon the meanings of words. There are men of all ages,young, middle-aged, and old, who possess many estimable virtues, whoshow physical courage wherever it is necessary, who are honourable,strong, industrious, and tenacious of purpose, but who undeniably lacksomething which belongs to the ideal man, and which, for want of abetter word, we call the masculine element. When we shall havemicroscopes so large and powerful that a human being shall be astransparent under the concentrated light of the lenses as the tiniestinsect when placed in one of our modern instruments, then, perhaps, thescientist of the future may discover the causes of this difference. Ibelieve, however, that it does not depend upon the fact of one manhaving a few ounces more of blood in his veins than another. The factlies deeper hidden than that, and may puzzle the psychologist as wellas the professor of anthropology. For us it exists, and we cannotexplain it, but must content ourselves with comparing the phenomenawhich proceed from these differences of organisation. At the presentday the society of the English-speaking races seems to favour thegrowth of the creature who is only manly but not masculine, whereasoutside the pale of that strange little family which calls itself"society" the masculinity of man is more striking than among otherraces. Not long ago a French journalist said that many of thepeculiarities of the English-speaking peoples proceeded from theomnipresence of the young girl, who reads every novel that appears,goes to every theatre, and regulates the tone of conversation andliterature by her never-absent innocence. Cynics, if there are stillrepresentatives of a school which has grown ridiculous, may believethis if they please; the fact remains that it is precisely the mostmasculine class of men who show the strongest predilection for thesociety of the most refined women, and who on the whole show thegreatest respect for all women in general. The masculine man prefersthe company of the other sex by natural attraction, and would perhapsrather fight with other men, or at least strive to outdo them in thestruggle for notoriety, power, or fame, than spend his time in friendlyconversation with them, no matter how interesting the topic selected.This point of view may be regarded as uncivilised, but it may bepointed out that it is only in the most civilised countries that thesociety of women is accessible to all men of their own social position.No one familiar with Eastern countries will pretend that Orientals shutup their women because they enjoy their company so much as to beunwilling to share the privilege with their friends.
San Giacinto was pre-eminently a masculine man, as indeed were all theSaracinesca, in a greater or less degree. He understood womeninstinctively, and, with a very limited experience of the world, knewwell enough the strength of their influence. It was characteristic ofhim that he had determined to marry almost as soon as he had got afooting in Roman society. He saw clearly that if he could unite himselfwith a powerful family he could exercise a directing power over thewomen which must ultimately give him all that he needed. Through hiscousins he had very soon made the acquaintance of the Montevarchihousehold, and seeing that there were two marriageable daughters, heprofited by the introduction. He would have preferred Faustina,perhaps, but he foresaw that he should find fewer difficulties inobtaining her sister for his wife. The old prince and princess were indespair at seeing her still unmarried, and it was clear that they werenot likely to find a better match for her than the Marchese di SanGiacinto. He, on his part, knew that his past occupation was adisadvantage to him in the eyes of the world, although he was theundoubted and acknowledged cousin of the Saracinesca, and the only manof the family besides old Leone and his son Sant' Ilario. His two boys,also, were a drawback, since his second wife's children could notinherit the whole of the property he expected to leave. But hisposition was good, and Flavia was not generally considered to be likelyto marry, so that he had good hopes of winning her.
It was clear to him from the first that there must be some reason whyshe had not married, and the somewhat disparaging remarks concerningher which he heard from time to time excited his curiosity. As he hadalways intended to consult the head of his family upon the matter henow determined to do so at once. He was not willing, indeed, to letmatters go any further until he had ascertained the truth concerningher, and he was sure that Prince Saracinesca would tell him everythingat the first mention of a proposal to marry her. The old gentleman hadtoo much pride to allow his cousin to make an unfitting match.Accordingly, on the day following the events last narrated San Giacintocalled after breakfast and found the prince, as usual, alone in hisstudy. He was not dozing, however, for the accounts of the last night'sdoings in the Osservatore Romano were very interesting.
"I suppose you have heard all about Montevarchi's daughter?" askedSaracinesca, laying his paper aside and giving his hand to San Giacinto.
"Yes, and I am delighted at the conclusion of the adventure, especiallyas I have something to ask you about another member of the family."
"I hope Flavia has not disappeared now," remarked the prince.
"I trust not," answered San Giacinto with a laugh. "I was going to askyou whether I should have your approval if I proposed to marry her."
"This is a very sudden announcement," said Saracinesca with somesurprise. "I must think about it. I appreciate your friendlydisposition vastly, my dear cousin, in asking my opinion, and I willgive the matter my best consideration."
"I shall be very grateful," replied the younger man, gravely. "In myposition I feel bound to consult you. I should do so in any case forthe mere benefit of your advice, which is very needful to one who, likemyself, is but a novice in the ways of Rome."
Saracinesca looked keenly at his c
ousin, as though expecting todiscover some touch of irony in his tone or expression. He rememberedthe fierce altercations he had engaged in with Giovanni when he hadwished the latter to marry Tullia Mayer, and was astonished to find SanGiacinto, over whom he had no real authority at all, so docile andanxious for his counsel.
"I suppose you would like to know something about her fortune," he saidat last. "Montevarchi is rich, but miserly. He could give her anythinghe liked."
"Of course it is important to know what he would like to give," repliedSan Giacinto with a smile.
"Of course. Very well. There are two daughters already married. Theyeach had a hundred thousand scudi. It is not so bad, after all, whenyou think what a large family he has--but he could have given more. Asfor Flavia, he might do something generous for the sake of---"
The old gentleman was going to say, for the sake of getting rid of her,and perhaps his cousin thought as much. The prince checked himself,however, and ended his sentence rather awkwardly.
"For the sake of getting such a fine fellow for a husband," he said.
"Why is she not already married?" inquired San Giacinto with a veryslight inclination of his head, as an acknowledgment of the flatteringspeech whereby the prince had helped himself out of his difficulty.
"Who knows!" ejaculated the latter enigmatically.
"Is there any story about her? Was she ever engaged to be married? Itis rather strange when one thinks of it, for she is a handsome girl.Pray be quite frank--I have taken no steps in the matter."
"The fact is that I do not know. She is not like other girls, and asshe gives her father and mother some trouble in society, I suppose thatyoung men's fathers have been afraid to ask for her. No. I can assureyou that there is no story connected with her. She has a way of statingdisagreeable truths that terrifies Montevarchi. She was delicate as achild and was brought up at home, so of course she has no manners."
"I should have thought she should have better manners for that,"remarked San Giacinto. The prince stared at him in surprise.
"We do not think so here," he answered after a moment's pause. "On thewhole, I should say that for a hundred and twenty thousand you mightmarry her, if you are so inclined--and if you can manage her. But thatis a matter for you to judge."
"The Montevarchi are, I believe, what you call a great family?"
"They are not the Savelli, nor the Frangipani--nor the Saracinescaeither. But they are a good family--good blood, good fortune, and whatMontevarchi calls good principles."
"You think I could not do better than marry Donna Flavia, then?"
"It would be a good marriage, decidedly. You ought to have marriedTullia Mayer. If she had not made a fool of herself and an enemy of me,and if you had turned up two years ago--well, there were a good manyobjections to her, and stories about her, too. But she was rich--eh!that was a fortune to be snapped up by that scoundrel Del Ferice!"
"Del Ferice?" repeated San Giacinto. "The same who tried to prove thatyour son was married by copying my marriage register?"
"The same. I will tell you the rest of the story some day. Then at thattime there was Bianca Valdarno--but she married a Neapolitan last year;and the Rocca girl, but Onorato Cantalupo got her and herdowry--Montevarchi's second son--and--well, I see nobody now, exceptFlavia's sister Faustina. Why not marry her? It is true that her fathermeans to catch young Frangipani, but he will have no such luck, I cantell him, unless he will part with half a million."
"Donna Faustina is too young," said San Giacinto, calmly. "Besides, asthey are sisters and there is so little choice, I may say that I preferDonna Flavia, she is more gay, more lively."
"Vastly more, I have no doubt, and you will have to look after her,unless you can make her fall in love with you." Saracinesca laughed atthe idea.
"With me!" exclaimed San Giacinto, joining in his cousin's merriment."With me, indeed! A sober widower, between thirty and forty! A likelything! Fortunately there is no question of love in this matter. I thinkI can answer for her conduct, however."
"I would not be the man to raise your jealousy!" remarked Saracinesca,laughing again as he looked admiringly at his cousin's gigantic figureand lean stern face. "You are certainly able to take care of your wife.Besides, I have no doubt that Flavia will change when she is married.She is not a bad girl--only a little too fond of making fun of herfather and mother, and after all, as far as the old man is concerned, Ido not wonder. There is one point upon which you must satisfy him,though--I am not curious, and do not ask you questions, but I warn youthat glad as he will be to marry his daughter, he will want to drive abargain with you and will inquire about your fortune."
San Giacinto was silent for a few moments and seemed to be making acalculation in his head.
"Would a fortune equal to what he gives her be sufficient?" he asked atlength.
"Yes. I fancy so," replied the prince looking rather curiously at hiscousin. "You see," he continued, "as you have children by your firstmarriage, Montevarchi would wish to see Flavia's son provided for, ifshe has one. That is your affair. I do not want to make suggestions."
"I think," said San Giacinto after another short interval of silence,"that I could agree to settle something upon any children which may beborn. Do you think some such arrangement would satisfy PrinceMontevarchi?"
"Certainly, if you can agree about the terms. Such things are oftendone in these cases."
"I am very grateful for your advice. May I count upon your good wordwith the prince, if he asks your opinion?"
"Of course," answered Saracinesca, readily, if not very cordially.
He had not at first liked his cousin, and although he had overcome hisinstinctive aversion to the man, the feeling was momentarily revivedwith more than its former force by the prospect of being perhaps calledupon to guarantee, in a measure, San Giacinto's character as a suitablehusband for Flavia. He had gone too far already however, for since hehad given his approval to the scheme it would not become him towithhold his cooperation, should his assistance be in any way necessaryin order to bring about the marriage. The slight change of tone as heuttered the last words had not escaped San Giacinto, however. Hisperceptions were naturally quick and were sharpened by thepeculiarities of his present position, so that he understoodSaracinesca's unwillingness to have a hand in the matter almost betterthan the prince understood it himself.
"I trust that I shall not be obliged to ask your help," remarked SanGiacinto. "I was, indeed, more anxious for your goodwill than for anymore material aid."
"You have it, with all my heart," said Saracinesca warmly, for he was alittle ashamed of his coldness.
San Giacinto took his leave and went away well satisfied with what hehad accomplished, as indeed he had good cause to be. Montevarchi'sconsent to the marriage was not doubtful, now that San Giacinto wasassured that he was able to fulfil the conditions which would be asked,and the knowledge that he was able to do even more than was likely tobe required of him gave him additional confidence in the result. Totell the truth, he was strongly attracted by Flavia; and though hewould assuredly have fought with his inclination had it appeared to bemisplaced, he was pleased with the prospect of marrying a woman whowould not only strengthen his position in society, but for whom he knewthat he was capable of a sincere attachment. Marriage, according to hislight, was before all things a contract entered into for mutualadvantage; but he saw no reason why the fulfilment of such a contractshould not be made as agreeable as possible.
The principal point was yet to be gained, however, and as San Giacintomounted the steps of the Palazzo Montevarchi he stopped more than once,considering for the last time whether he were doing wisely or not. Onthe whole he determined to proceed, and made up his mind that he wouldgo straight to the point.
Flavia's father was sitting in his study when San Giacinto arrived, andthe latter was struck by the contrast between the personalities and themodes of life of his cousin whom he had just left and of the man towhom he was about to propose himself as a son-in-law. The
Saracinescawere by no means very luxurious men, but they understood the comfortsof existence better than most Romans of that day. If there was massiveold-fashioned furniture against the walls and in the corners of thehuge rooms, there were on the other hand soft carpets for the feet andcushioned easy-chairs to sit in. There were fires on the hearths whenthe weather was cold, and modern lamps for the long winter evenings.There were new books on the tables, engravings, photographs, a fewobjects of value and beauty not jealously locked up in closets, butlooking as though they were used, if useful, or at least as if some onederived pleasure from looking at them. The palace itself was a sternold fortress in the midst of the older part of the city, but withinthere was a genial atmosphere of generous living, and, since Sant'Ilario's marriage with Corona, an air of refinement and good taste suchas only a woman can impart to the house in which she dwells.
The residence of the Montevarchi was very different. Narrow strips ofcarpet were stretched in straight lines across cold marble floors, fromone door to another. Instead of open fires in the huge chimney-places,pans of lighted charcoal were set in the dim, empty rooms. Half a dozenhalls were furnished alike. Each had three marble tables and twelvestraight-backed chairs ranged against the walls, the only variety beingthat some were covered with red damask and some with green. Vastold-fashioned mirrors, set in magnificent frames built into the wall,reflected vistas of emptiness and acres of cold solitude. Nor were therooms where the family met much better. There were more tables and morestraight-backed chairs there than in the outer halls, but that was all.The drawing-room had a carpet, which for many years had been an objectof the greatest concern to the prince, who never left Rome for themonths of August and September until he had assured himself that thisvaluable object had been beaten, dusted, peppered, and sewn up in alinen case as old as itself, that is to say, dating from a quarter of acentury back. That carpet was an extravagance to which his father hadbeen driven by his English daughter-in-law; it was the only one ofwhich he had ever been guilty, and the present head of the family meantthat it should last his lifetime, and longer too, if care couldpreserve it. The princess herself had been made to remember for fiveand twenty years that since she had obtained a carpet she must expectnothing else in the way of modern improvements. It was the monument ofa stupendous energy which she had expended entirely in that onestruggle, and the sight of it reminded her of her youth. Long ago shehad submitted once and for ever to the old Roman ways, and though sheknew that a very little saved from the expense of maintaining a scoreof useless servants and a magnificent show equipage would suffice tomake at least one room in the house comfortable for her use, she nolonger sighed at the reflection, but consoled herself with making herchildren put up with the inconveniences she herself had borne so longand so patiently.
Prince Montevarchi's private room was as comfortless as the rest of thehouse. Narrow, high, dim, carpetless, insufficiently warmed in winterby a brazier of coals, and at present not warmed at all, though theweather was chilly; furnished shabbily with dusty shelves, awriting-table, and a few chairs with leather seats, musty with anancient mustiness which seemed to be emitted by the rows of old booksand the moth-eaten baize cover of the table--the whole place lookedmore like the office of a decayed notary than the study of a wealthynobleman of ancient lineage. The old gentleman himself entered the rooma few seconds after San Giacinto had been ushered in, having slippedout to change his coat when his visitor was announced. It was a fixedprinciple of his life to dress as well as his neighbours when theycould see him, but to wear threadbare garments whenever he could do sounobserved. He greeted San Giacinto with a grave dignity whichcontrasted strangely with the weakness and excitement he had shown onthe previous night.
"I wish to speak to you upon a delicate subject," began the youngerman, after seating himself upon one of the high-backed chairs whichcracked ominously under his weight.
"I am at your service," replied the old gentleman, inclining his headpolitely.
"I feel," continued San Giacinto, "that although my personalacquaintance with you has unfortunately been of short duration, thefamiliarity which exists between your family and mine will entitle whatI have to say to a share of your consideration. The proposal which Ihave to make has perhaps been made by others before me and has beenrejected. I have the honour to ask of you the hand of your daughter."
"Faustina, I suppose?" asked the old prince in an indifferent tone, butlooking sharply at his companion out of his small keen eyes.
"Pardon me, I refer to Donna Flavia Montevarchi."
"Flavia?" repeated the prince, in a tone of unmistakable surprise,which however was instantly moderated to the indifferent key again ashe proceeded. "You see, we have been thinking so much about my daughterFaustina since last night that her name came to my lips quitenaturally."
"Most natural, I am sure," answered San Giacinto; who, however, hadunderstood at once that his suit was to have a hearing. He thenremained silent.
"You wish to marry Flavia, I understand," remarked the prince after apause. "I believe you are a widower, Marchese. I have heard that youhave children."
"Two boys."
"Two boys, eh? I congratulate you. Boys, if brought up in Christianprinciples, are much less troublesome than girls. But, my dearMarchese, these same boys are an obstacle--a very serious obstacle."
"Less serious than you may imagine, perhaps. My fortune does not comeunder the law of primogeniture. There is no fidei commissum. I candispose of it as I please."
"Eh, eh! But there must be a provision," said Montevarchi, growinginterested in the subject.
"That shall be mutual," replied San Giacinto, gravely.
"I suppose you mean to refer to my daughter's portion," returned theother with more indifference. "It is not much, you know--scarcely worthmentioning. I am bound to tell you that, in honour."
"We must certainly discuss the matter, if you are inclined to considermy proposal."
"Well, you know what young women's dowries are in these days, my dearMarchese. We are none of us very rich."
"I will make a proposal," said San Giacinto. "You shall give yourdaughter a portion. Whatever be the amount, up to a reasonable limit,which you choose to give, I will settle a like sum in such a mannerthat at my death it shall revert to her, and to her children by me, ifshe have any."
"That amounts merely to settling upon herself the dowry I give her,"replied Montevarchi, sharply. "I give you a scudo for your use. Yousettle my scudo upon your wife, that is all."
"Not at all," returned San Giacinto. "I do not wish to have control ofher dowry---"
"The devil! Oh--I see--how stupid of me--I am indeed so old that Icannot count any more! How could I make such a mistake? Of course, itwould be exactly as you say. Of course it would."
"It would not be so as a general rule," said San Giacinto, calmly,"because most men would not consent to such an arrangement. That,however, is my proposal."
"Oh! For the sake of Flavia, a man would do much, I am sure," answeredthe prince, who began to think that his visitor was in love with thegirl, incredible as such a thing appeared to him. The younger man madeno answer to this remark, however, and waited for Montevarchi to statehis terms.
"How much shall we say?" asked the latter at length.
"That shall be for you to decide. Whatever you give I will give, if Iam able."
"Ah, yes! But how am I to know what you are able to give, dearMarchese?" The prince suspected that San Giacinto's offer, if he couldbe induced to make one, would not be very large.
"Am I to understand," inquired San Giacinto, "that if I name the amountto be settled so that at my death it goes to my wife and her childrenby me for ever, you will agree to settle a like sum upon Donna Flaviain her own right? If so, I will propose what I think fair."
Montevarchi looked keenly at his visitor for some moments, then lookedaway and hesitated. He was very anxious to marry Flavia at once, and hehad many reasons for supposing that San Giacinto was not very rich.
"
How about the title?" he asked suddenly.
"My title, of course, goes to my eldest son by my first marriage. Butif you are anxious on that score I think my cousin would willinglyconfer one of his upon the eldest son of your daughter. It would costhim nothing, and would be a sort of compensation to me for mygreat-grandfather's folly."
"How?" asked Montevarchi. "I do not understand."
"I supposed you knew the story. I am the direct descendant of the elderbranch. There was an agreement between two brothers of the family, bywhich the elder resigned the primogeniture in favour of the younger whowas then married. The elder, who took the San Giacinto title, marriedlate in life and I am his great-grandson. If he had not acted sofoolishly I should be in my cousin's shoes. You see it would be naturalfor him to let me have some disused title for one of my children inconsideration of this fact. He has about a hundred, I believe. Youcould ask him, if you please."
San Giacinto's grave manner assured Montevarchi of the truth of thestory. He hesitated a moment longer, and then made up his mind.
"I agree to your proposal, my dear Marchese," he said, with unusualblandness of manner.
"I will settle one hundred and fifty thousand scudi in the way Istated," said San Giacinto, simply. The prince started from his chair.
"One--hundred--and--fifty--thousand!" he repeated slowly. "Why, it is afortune in itself! Dear me! I had no idea you would name anything solarge---"
"Seven thousand five hundred scudi a year, at five per cent," remarkedthe younger man in a businesslike tone. "You give the same. That willinsure our children an income of fifteen thousand scudi. It is notcolossal, but it should suffice. Besides, I have not said that I wouldnot leave them more, if I chanced to have more to leave."
The prince had sunk back into his chair, and sat drumming on the tablewith his long thin fingers. His face wore an air of mingled surpriseand bewilderment. To tell the truth, he had expected that San Giacintowould name about fifty thousand as the sum requisite. He did not knowwhether to be delighted at the prospect of marrying his daughter sowell or angry at the idea of having committed himself to part with somuch money.
"That is much more than I gave my other daughters," he said at last, ina tone of hesitation.
"Did you give the money to them or to their husbands?" inquired SanGiacinto.
"To their husbands, of course."
"Then allow me to point out that you will now be merely settling moneyin your own family, and that the case is very different. Not only that,but I am settling the same sum upon your family, instead of taking yourmoney for my own use. You are manifestly the gainer by the transaction."
"It would be the same, then, if I left Flavia the money at my death,since it remains in the family," suggested the prince, who sought anescape from his bargain.
"Not exactly," argued San Giacinto. "First there is the yearly interestuntil your death, which I trust is yet very distant. And then there isthe uncertainty of human affairs. It will be necessary that you investthe money in trust, as I shall do, at the time of signing the contract.Otherwise there would be no fairness in the arrangement."
"So you say that you are descended from the elder branch of theSaracinesca. How strange are the ways of Providence, my dear Marchese!"
"It was a piece of great folly on the part of my great-grandfather,"replied the other, shrugging his shoulders. "You should never say thata man will not marry until he is dead."
"Ah no! The ways of heaven are inscrutable! It is not for us poormortals to attempt to change them. I suppose that agreement of whichyou speak was made in proper form and quite regular."
"I presume so, since no effort was ever made to change the dispositionsestablished by it."
"I suppose so--I suppose so, dear Marchese. It would be veryinteresting to see those papers."
"My cousin has them," said San Giacinto. "I daresay he will not object.But, pardon me if I return to a subject which is very near my heart. DoI understand that you consent to the proposal I have made? If so, wemight make arrangements for a meeting to take place between ournotaries."
"One hundred and fifty thousand," said Montevarchi, slowly rubbing hispointed chin with his bony lingers. "Five per cent--seven thousand fivehundred--a mint of money, Signor Marchese, a mint of money! And theseare hard times. What a rich man you must be, to talk so lightly aboutsuch immense sums! Well, well--you are very eloquent, I must consent,and by strict economy I may perhaps succeed in recovering the loss."
"You must be aware that it is not really a loss," argued San Giacinto,"since it is to remain with your daughter and her children, andconsequently with your family."
"Yes, I know. But money is money, my friend," exclaimed the prince,laying his right hand on the old green tablecover and slowly drawinghis crooked nails over the cloth, as though he would like to squeezegold out of the dusty wool. There was something almost fierce in histone, too, as he uttered the words, and his small eyes glitteredunpleasantly. He knew well enough that he was making a good bargain andthat San Giacinto was a better match than he had ever hoped to get forFlavia. So anxious was he, indeed, to secure the prize that he entirelyabstained from asking any questions concerning San Giacinto's pastlife, whereby some obstacle might have been raised to the intendedmarriage. He promised himself that the wedding should take place atonce.
"It is understood," he continued, after a pause, "that we or ournotaries shall appear with the money in cash, and that it shall beimmediately invested as we shall jointly decide, the settlements beingmade at the same time and on the spot."
"Precisely so," replied San Giacinto. "No money, no contract."
"In that case I will inform my daughter of my decision."
"I shall be glad to avail myself of an early opportunity to pay myrespects to Donna Flavia."
"The wedding might take place on the 30th of November, my dearMarchese. The 1st of December is Advent Sunday, and no marriages arepermitted during Advent without a special licence."
"An expensive affair, doubtless," remarked San Giacinto, gravely, inspite of his desire to laugh.
"Yes. Five scudi at least," answered Montevarchi, impressively. "Let usby all means be economical."
"The Holy Church is very strict about these matters, and you may aswell keep the money."
"I will," replied San Giacinto, rising to go. "Do not let me detain youany longer. Pray accept my warmest thanks, and allow me to say that Ishall consider it a very great honour to become your son-in-law."
"Ah, indeed, you are very good, my dear Marchese. As for me I needconsolation. Consider a father's feelings, when he consigns his beloveddaughter--Flavia is an angel upon earth, my friend--when, I say, afather gives his dear child, whom he loves as the apple of his eye, tobe carried off by a man--a man even of your worth! When your childrenare grown up, you will understand what I suffer."
"I quite understand," said San Giacinto in serious tones. "It shall bethe endeavour of my life to make you forget your loss. May I have thehonour of calling to-morrow at this time?"
"Yes, my dear Marchese, yes, my dear son--forgive a father'stenderness. To-morrow at this time, and---" he hesitated. "Andthen--some time before the ceremony, perhaps--you will give us thepleasure of your company at breakfast, I am sure, will you not? We arevery simple people, but we are hospitable in our quiet way. Hospitalityis a virtue," he sighed a little. "A necessary virtue," he added withsome emphasis upon the adjective.
"It will give me great pleasure," replied San Giacinto.
Therewith he left the room and a few moments later was walking slowlyhomewards, revolving in his mind the probable results of his union withthe Montevarchi family.
When Montevarchi was alone, he smiled pleasantly to himself, and tookout of a secret drawer a large book of accounts, in the study of whichhe spent nearly half an hour, with evident satisfaction. Havingcarefully locked up the volume, and returned the sliding panel to itsplace, he sent for his wife, who presently appeared.
"Sit down, Guendalina," he said. "I will change
my coat, and then Ihave something important to say to you."
He had quite forgotten the inevitable change in his satisfaction overthe interview with San Giacinto, but the sight of the princess recalledthe necessity for economy. It had been a part of the business of hislife to set her a good example in this respect. When he came back heseated himself before her.
"My dear, I have got a husband for Flavia," were his first words.
"At last!" exclaimed the princess. "I hope he is presentable," sheadded. She knew that she could trust her husband in the matter offortune.
"The new Saracinesca--the Marchese di San Giacinto."
Princess Montevarchi's ruddy face expressed the greatest astonishment,and her jaw dropped as she stared at the old gentleman.
"A pauper!" she exclaimed when she had recovered herself enough tospeak.
"Perhaps, Guendalina mia--but he settles a hundred and fifty thousandscudi on Flavia and her heirs for ever, the money to be paid on thesigning of the contract. That does not look like pauperism. Of course,under the circumstances I agreed to do the same. It is settled onFlavia, do you understand? He does not want a penny of it, not a penny!Trust your husband for a serious man of business, Guendalina."
"Have you spoken to Flavia? It certainly looks like a good match. Thereis no doubt about his being of the Saracinesca, of course. How couldthere be? They have taken him to their hearts. But how will Flaviabehave?"
"What a foolish question, my dear!" exclaimed Montevarchi. "How easilyone sees that you are English! She will be delighted, I presume. And ifnot, what difference does it make?"
"I would not have married you against my will, Lotario," observed theprincess.
"For my part, I had no choice. My dear father said simply, 'My son, youwill pay your respects to that young lady, who is to be your wife. Ifyou wish to marry anyone else, I will lock you up.' And so I did. HaveI not been a faithful husband to you, Guendalina, through more thanthirty years?"
The argument was unanswerable, and Montevarchi had employed it eachtime one of his children was married. In respect of faithfulness, atleast, he had been a model husband.
"It is sufficient," he added, willing to make a concession to hiswife's foreign notions, "that there should be love on the one side, andChristian principles on the other. I can assure you that San Giacintois full of love, and as for Flavia, my dear, has she not been educatedby you?"
"As for Flavia's Christian principles, my dear Lotario, I only hopethey may suffice for her married life. She is a terrible child to haveat home. But San Giacinto looks like a determined man. I shall neverforget his kindness in searching for Faustina last night. He wasdevotion itself, and I should not have been surprised had he wished tomarry her instead."
"That exquisite creature is reserved for a young friend of ours,Guendalina. Do me the favour never to speak of her marrying anyoneelse."
The princess was silent for a moment, and then began to make a seriesof inquiries concerning the proposed bridegroom, which it isunnecessary to recount.
"And now we will send for Flavia," said Montevarchi, at last.
"Would it not be best that I should tell her?" asked his wife.
"My dear," he replied sternly, "when matters of grave importance havebeen decided it is the duty of the head of the house to communicate thedecision to the persons concerned."
So Flavia was sent for, and appeared shortly, her pretty face andwicked black eyes expressing both surprise and anticipation. She wasalmost as dark as San Giacinto himself, though of a very differenttype. Her small nose had an upward turn which disturbed her mother'sideas of the fitness of things, and her thick black hair wavednaturally over her forehead. Her figure was graceful and her movementsquick and spontaneous. The redness of her lips showed a strongvitality, which was further confirmed by the singular brightness of hereyes. She was no beauty, especially in a land where the dark complexionpredominates, but she was very pretty and possessed something of thatmysterious quality which charms without exciting direct admiration.
"Flavia," said her father, addressing her in solemn tones, "you are tobe married, my dear child. I have sent for you at once, because therewas no time to be lost, seeing that the wedding must take place beforethe beginning of Advent. The news will probably give you pleasure, butI trust you will reflect upon the solemnity of such engagements and layaside---"
"Would you mind telling me the name of my husband?" inquired Flavia,interrupting the paternal lecture.
"The man I have selected for my son-in-law is one whom all women wouldjustly envy you, were it not that envy is an atrocious sin, and onewhich I trust you will henceforth endeavour---"
"To drown, crush out and stamp upon in the pursuit of true Christianprinciples," said Flavia with a laugh. "I know all about envy. It isone of the seven deadlies. I can tell you them all, if you like."
"Flavia, I am amazed!" cried the princess, severely.
"I had not expected this conduct of my daughter," said Montevarchi."And though I am at present obliged to overlook it, I can certainly notconsider it pardonable. You will listen with becoming modesty andrespect to what I have to say."
"I am all modesty, respect and attention--but I would like to know hisname, papa--please consider that pardonable!"
"I do not know why I should not tell you that, and I shall certainlygive you all such information concerning him as it is proper that youshould receive. The fact that he is a widower need not surprise you,for in the inscrutable ways of Providence some men are deprived oftheir wives sooner than others. Nor should his age appear to you in thelight of an obstacle--indeed there are no obstacles---"
"A widower--old--probably bald--I can see him already. Is he fat, papa?"
"He approaches the gigantic; but as I have often told you, Flavia, thequalities a wise father should seek in choosing a husband for his childare not dependent upon outward---"
"For heaven's sake, mamma," cried Flavia, "tell me the creature's name!"
"The Marchese di San Giacinto--let your father speak, and do notinterrupt him."
"While you both insist on interrupting me," said Montevarchi, "it isimpossible for me to express myself."
"I wish it were!" observed Flavia, under her breath. "You are speakingof the Saracinesca cousin, San Giacinto? Not so bad after all."
"It is very unbecoming in a young girl to speak of men by their lastnames---"
"Giovanni, then. Shall I call him Giovanni?"
"Flavia!" exclaimed the princess. "How can you be so undutiful! Youshould speak of him as the Marchese di San Giacinto."
"Silence!" cried the prince. "I will not be interrupted! The Marchesedi San Giacinto will call to-morrow, after breakfast, and will pay hisrespects to you. You will receive him in a proper spirit."
"Yes, papa," replied Flavia, suddenly growing meek, and folding herhands submissively.
"He has behaved with unexampled liberality," continued Montevarchi,"and I need hardly say that as the honour of our house was concerned Ihave not allowed myself to be outdone. Since you refuse to listen tothe words of fatherly instruction which it is natural I should speak onthis occasion, you will at least remember that your future husband isentirely such a man as I would have chosen, that he is a Saracinesca,as well as a rich man, and that he has been accustomed in the women ofhis family to a greater refinement of manner than you generally thinkfit to exhibit in the presence of your father."
"Yes, papa. May I go, now?"
"If your conscience will permit you to retire without a word ofgratitude to your parents, who in spite of the extreme singularities ofyour behaviour have at last provided you with a suitable husband; if, Isay, you are capable of such ingratitude, then, Flavia, you maycertainly go."
"I was going to say, papa, that I thank you very much for my husband,and mamma, too."
Thereupon she kissed her father's and her mother's hands with greatreverence and turned to leave the room. Her gravity forsook her,however, before she reached the door.
"Evviva! Hurrah!" she
cried, suddenly skipping across the interveningspace and snapping her small fingers like a pair of castanets. "Evviva!Married at last! Hurrah!" And with this parting salute she disappeared.
When she was gone, her father and mother looked at each other, as theyhad looked many times before in the course of Flavia's life. They hadfound little difficulty in bringing up their other children, but Flaviawas a mystery to them both. The princess would have understood wellenough a thorough English girl, full of life and animal spirits, thoughshy and timid in the world, as the elderly lady had herself been in heryouth. But Flavia's character was incomprehensible to her northernsoul. Montevarchi understood the girl better, but loved her even less.What seemed odd in her to his wife, to him seemed vulgar and ill-bred,for he would have had her like the rest, silent and respectful in hispresence, and in awe of him as the head of the house, if not in fact,at least in manner. But Flavia's behaviour was in the eyes of Romans avery serious objection to her as a wife for any of their sons, for intheir view moral worth was necessarily accompanied by outward gravityand decorum, and a light manner could only be the visible sign of agiddy heart.
"If only he does not find out what she is like!" exclaimed the princessat last.
"I devoutly trust that heaven in its mercy may avert such a catastrophefrom our house," replied Montevarchi, who, however, seemed to beoccupied in adding together certain sums upon his fingers.
San Giacinto understood Flavia better than either of her parents; andalthough his marriage with her was before all things a part of his planfor furthering his worldly interests, it must be confessed that he hada stronger liking for the girl than her father would have consideredindispensable in such affairs. The matter was decided at once, and in afew days the preliminaries were settled between the lawyers, whileFlavia exerted the utmost pressure possible upon the parental purse inthe question of the trousseau.
It may seem strange that at the time when all Rome was convulsed by aninternal revolution, and when the temporal power appeared to be in verygreat danger, Montevarchi and San Giacinto should have been able todiscuss so coolly the conditions of the marriage, and even to fix thewedding day. The only possible explanation of this fact is that neitherof them believed in the revolution at all. It is a noticeablecharacteristic of people who are fond of money that they do not readilybelieve in any great changes. They are indeed the most conservative ofmen, and will count their profits at moments of peril with a coolnesswhich would do honour to veteran soldiers. Those who possess money puttheir faith in money and give no credence to rumours of revolutionwhich are not backed by cash. Once or twice in history they have beenwrong, but it must be confessed that they have very generally beenright.
As for San Giacinto, his own interests were infinitely more absorbingto his attention than those of the world at large, and being a man ofuncommonly steady nerves, it seems probable that he would have calmlypursued his course in the midst of much greater disturbances than thosewhich affected Rome at that time.
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