The Passport

It was in order to consult together concerning the suggested deputation that the leading spirits of Montefiano had assembled at the Caffè Garibaldi that evening. Notwithstanding the noise, and the totally irrelevant side issues raised by many of his customers, it was clear to Stefano Mazza that the general consensus of public opinion was on his side. The dismissal of Sor Beppe should not be allowed to pass without a protest being made to the principessa in person; and at the same time it should be clearly conveyed to her that any fattore who should be appointed to succeed Sor Beppe would find his task by no means easy, inasmuch as the people would with truth conclude that he had been sent to Montefiano to carry out changes which were obnoxious and unjust. Sor Stefano, anxious to please all parties, had further suggested that the deputation in question should insist upon the Principessina Bianca being present when its members were received by her step-mother. Her presence, he pointed out, would enable the representatives of the Montefiano people to ascertain whether Donna Bianca was or was not aware of what was being done in her name, whether it was true that she was merely a victim of the unscrupulous designs of this Belgian priest, and of another stranger who was, to all intents and purposes, her uncle. Donna Bianca Acorari was their legitimate padrona, the daughter and heiress of the princes of Montefiano; and as such her own people at Montefiano had a right to approach her and hear from her own lips whether all that was said concerning her was truth or fiction.

It was late that night when the Caffè Garibaldi put out its lights and barred its doors after the last of Sor Stefano's clients had left the premises. The chief point under discussion during the evening had been settled, however, and it was unanimously decided that a deputation, headed by the sindaco and Sor Stefano, should send a letter to the castle requesting to be received by the princess and the Principessina Donna Bianca. Perhaps the sindaco of Montefiano was the only one to display some hesitation as to the advisability of the course determined upon. He had no desire to compromise himself by lending his official sanction to any movement which might end in disturbance and in possible collision with the civil authorities. It was impossible to foretell what might take place were the princess and her adviser to oppose the wishes of the already suspicious and excited peasants, and refuse to entertain the objections of the deputation to the dismissal of the fattore, Giuseppe Fontana. The avvocato Ricci, syndic of Montefiano, like many other petty Italian lawyers, nourished an ambition to enter political life as a means whereby to fill his empty pockets at the expense of those who might send him to join the large number of his fellow-lawyers in the Chamber of Deputies. It was a somewhat exalted ambition, no doubt; but the avvocato Ricci, after all, was in no more obscure a position than many another local attorney now calling himself onorevole and making the best of his opportunities as a deputy to rob with both hands, until such time as he should either be made a minister of state or fail to be re-elected by a disillusioned constituency.

It would certainly not add to his prospects were he, as sindaco of Montefiano, to compromise himself with the authorities of the Home Office in Rome for the sake of some discontented peasants in his commune, and he had already done his best that evening to throw cold water on Sor Stefano's suggestions, and to dissociate himself from any part in the movement in question. A few words, however, spoken in his ear by Stefano Mazza, conveying a gentle but pointed allusion to certain bills, more than once renewed which Sor Stefano happened to have in his keeping, had effectually silenced the sindaco Ricci's official objections to making one of the proposed deputation to the castle.

The gathering at the Caffè Garibaldi had taken place on the very evening of Concetta Fontana's delivery to Bianca Acorari of her lover's missive. Concetta, indeed, knew well enough that the meeting was to take place, and also what its object was. As a matter of fact, it was largely, if not entirely, owing to her that public interest in Montefiano had been aroused concerning the motives for the Principessina Bianca's confinement – for so Concetta had not hesitated to qualify it – in the castle and the park behind the castle. She had let fall mysterious hints as to what she had seen and heard during the hours she was employed in helping the principessina's maid in mending the linen and in other household duties; and her tales had certainly not lost in the telling during the long summer evenings when the women of the paese had little to do but to sit and gossip outside their doors.

Doubtless, like most gossip, the stories woven round Concetta Fontana's suggestion would soon have been replaced by others of closer interest. The premature appearance of the baker's baby, which had upset the ideas of Don Agostino's house-keeper as to the fitness of things, had been for some days relegated to an altogether secondary place; nor would the men have paid much attention to the tales told them by their womenkind of the treatment to which the Principessina Bianca was being subjected, had it not been for Sor Beppe's sudden dismissal from office. It needed very little to impress upon the farmers and peasantry on the latifondo belonging to Casa Acorari that the latter circumstance was in direct connection with the former; and that it had evidently been found necessary to get rid of Giuseppe Fontana and replace him by another agent who would be nothing more nor less than a tool in the hands of the foreign priest who had already persuaded the princess to consent to their rents being materially increased. It must be confessed that Concetta Fontana had lost no opportunity of duly impressing her friends and acquaintances with this plausible explanation of the reasons which had led to her father's dismissal. She had conceived an enthusiastic devotion to the Principessina Bianca almost from the first moment she had seen her and Bianca had spoken a few kindly words to her. This devotion had been further increased by realizing the loneliness of the girl's position, by sympathy with her for her enforced separation from the man she wished to marry, as well as by the discovery that Bianca was being exposed to the joint intrigues of Monsieur d'Antin and the Abbé Roux. The thought that her young padrona had need of her devotion had kindled Concetta's sense of loyalty, in which, as in that of her father, there was much that was nothing short of feudal feeling for the young head of the house of the Acorari of Montefiano.

Concetta, however, could hardly be blamed if, in addition to her genuine desire to rescue Bianca Acorari from the fate into which she felt convinced that Baron d'Antin and the Abbé Roux were trying to force her, she hoped at the same time to benefit her father and bring about his reinstatement. Sor Beppe had been, as it were, stunned by the suddenness of the blow which had fallen upon him. As he had said to Don Agostino, he was too old for transplantation. The interests of Casa Acorari had been his interests ever since he could remember. However unsatisfactory the late Principe di Montefiano might have been in other relations of life – however neglectful he might have been of the fact that he was taking all he could get out of his properties and was putting nothing into them again – he had always been a just and considerate landlord towards the people of the place from which he took his principal title, and which had been the cradle of his race.

It was the thought of how the late Prince Montefiano would have disapproved of the course taken by the Abbé Roux, and by the so-called administration of the affairs of Casa Acorari, that made the injustice of his dismissal all the harder for Sor Beppe to bear. If he had received his dismissal at the hands of the Principessina Bianca, it would have been bad enough; but to receive it from foreigners who, as he more than suspected, were only bent upon filling their own pockets during the principessina's minority, was altogether intolerable. The sympathy which had been shown him in the paese, and the general indignation aroused by the facts which had led to his dismissal had certainly been very pleasant to Sor Beppe's wounded feelings. He had made no secret of his conviction that so soon as the Principessina Bianca had the control of her affairs he would be reinstated, and public opinion in Montefiano quickly exonerated Donna Bianca Acorari from all responsibility in the matter. That such a thing had happened was, in the eyes of the Montefianesi, only a further proof of the bad foreign influence by which their young princess was surrounded.

Sor Beppe had carefully abstained from going to the Caffè Garibaldi that evening. It was his custom to spend an hour or two there on most nights, taking a hand at tresette or playing a game of billiards. He was aware, of course, of the discussion that was to take place on that particular evening, and it certainly would not have been seemly for him to be present. Moreover, there was no reason to suppose that his cause would suffer by his absence from the gathering. He knew that his friend, Stefano Mazza, would take care that this was not the case.

So, Sor Beppe had taken the opportunity of paying an evening visit to Don Agostino. He had attempted to see him immediately after his interview with the princess, when he had learned that she declined to interfere in his dismissal, but Don Agostino had already departed for Rome. After leaving Don Agostino, Sor Beppe had returned to his own set of rooms in the castle – the home of so many years, which he would now have to leave – and he had found Concetta awaiting him. The girl had required no pressing to deliver the packet Don Agostino had intrusted to her father. She had many times, she told him, wished to go to the principessina and offer to take some message for her to her lover – oh, many times, if only to spite the baron and Monsieur l'Abbé, who thought they had laid their plans so well. But she had not dared to take the liberty. Now, of course, she had an excuse; and if Don Agostino was interesting himself in the principessina's love-affairs, it was certainly a proof that the young man was worthy of her.

And Sor Beppe had accompanied Concetta to the disused room next to the entrance-gate of the castle, where he kept his firewood and his coke, and had seen her pass through the trap-door and mount the narrow stone steps leading into the secret passage above. Then he had awaited her return, not without some misgivings at the length of time which elapsed before he saw her reappear.

Concetta returned from her expedition flushed and excited, and, indeed, very nearly weeping. Her voice trembled as she recounted all that had passed between the principessina and herself; how she had watched the principessina standing at the window of her room, and had heard her cry to her absent lover; and how the poor child had seemed almost dazed when she gave her the packet, and had then broken down and cried in her, Concetta's, arms.

She told her father how the principessina was aware of his dismissal, but evidently knew nothing of the raising of the rents and his refusal to further acts of injustice, committed nominally in her interests; and how she had declared that, when she had the power to do so, she would reinstate him.

Sor Beppe listened attentively. "She is her father's daughter," he said, when Concetta had concluded, "and she will not allow her people to be wronged."

Concetta's eyes flashed. "And we," she exclaimed – "we will not allow her to be wronged! Vedete, it is not the princess, she wants to do her duty by the principessina– oh, I have heard that a hundred times from the maid, Bettina. It is the Abbé Roux. He makes the princess believe that her duty is to force the poor girl to do what he wants. But he will go too far, and then we shall see is it not true, Babbo?"

Sor Beppe nodded. "He has gone too far already," he said. "Listen, Concetta: the peasants are angry – very angry; and not the peasants only, but also those who are more highly placed than they. There will certainly be trouble if the increase in the rents is insisted upon. Moreover, they suspect something, some foul play towards the principessina, and it is as likely as not that there will be a demonstration. Well, if there is, and the Abbé Roux, as you call him, attempts to carry out his plans, I would not answer for the consequences. They are patient, our people – very patient; but when their patience is exhausted, they are not easy to manage. Why, in the Castelli Romani, a few years ago, at Genzano and Ariccia, the peasants held their own against the soldiers, and got what they wanted, too – but there was blood spilled in the getting of it."

Concetta Fontana glanced at her father quickly.

"Do I not know it?" she replied. "Yes, the people are angry. Well, let them be angry. Perhaps, if there is a demonstration, the princess will understand that there is something wrong, and Monsieur l'Abbé will be frightened. But the principessina will not be frightened, I am sure of that. She will know that it is only her own people, who will not be ruled by strangers. To-day we shall know what has happened at the Caffè Garibaldi," and Concetta smiled with a satisfied air. "As to the Abbé Roux – " she added.

"Curse the pretaccio!" growled Sor Beppe, under his breath.

"He would be wiser to return to Rome," concluded Concetta, "if he does not want to take delle belle bastonate some fine day!"

XXVII

Punctually at half-past seven on the morning after Sor Beppe's nocturnal visit to him, Don Agostino, robed in his vestments and accompanied by a small but sturdy acolyte, who was to act as server at the low mass he was about to celebrate, emerged from the sacristy of his church and ascended the steps of one of the side altars. The attendance was not large, the congregation consisting of a few peasant women and two old men; for the day was not a festa, and, consequently, the population of Montefiano was pursuing its usual occupations in the paese, or in the fields and vineyards beyond it.

As Don Agostino, after having arranged the sacred vessels and adjusted the markers in the missal to the proper pages, turned from the altar to commence the opening portion of the mass, his quick eyes fell upon Concetta Fontana, who was kneeling in the body of the church some little way behind the group of women gathered round the marble balustrade in front of the altar. It could not be said that Concetta was a frequent attendant at the half-past seven o'clock mass, and her presence had already excited whispered comments among the rest of the congregation, who had at once recognized Sor Beppe's daughter.

The mass over, Don Agostino retired to the sacristy again to disrobe, and thither, after a few minutes had elapsed, Concetta Fontana followed him. Don Agostino was not surprised to see her. Indeed, he had risen earlier than usual that morning in expectation of a visit either from Fontana or his daughter. He had spent an hour or two in his garden tying up refractory branches of his rose-trees and generally attending to the needs of his fellow-beings of the vegetable world – for it was one of Agostino's theories that any form of life was an attribute of the God whom he worshipped as a God of sympathy and of love, and he regarded his trees and his flowers as sentient beings who had a right to his tenderness and care. It was certainly not a theory of which he spoke in the world; but then most of us who are not content with looking only at the binding of God's book of life probably have our little intimate thoughts and theories which, knowing our world, we are prudent enough to keep for our own use and enjoyment, and, perhaps, as stepping-stones on the path we have to tread.

Concetta waited until she and Don Agostino were alone in the sacristy, and then she gave him the folded sheet of paper that Bianca Acorari had intrusted to her.

"To-morrow," she said, "the principessina will send another letter by me. There were no writing-materials in her room, so she could only send a few lines, which your reverence will no doubt forward to their destination."

Don Agostino took the paper and placed it carefully in his pocket-book. "I shall send it to the Signorino Rossano to-day," he replied. "Donna Bianca need have no fear of its not reaching him safely. So you took the packet to her last night?" he continued. "You had no difficulty in giving it into Donna Bianca's own hands?"

Concetta quickly related to him all that had passed between Bianca and her the night before. "And I was to tell your reverence," she concluded, "from the principessina, that she would write to you herself, because her fidanzatowished her to do so. Ah, but you should have seen the proud way the principessina drew herself up and looked – a look that a queen might give – when she spoke of her fidanzato!"

Don Agostino glanced at her with a smile. "You will be faithful to the principessina, figlia mia?" he asked. "She needs friends, the poor child."

"Faithful to her!" exclaimed Concetta. "I would do anything – anything, for the principessina. Imagine if I was glad when my father came home last night and told me I must take her the packet you had given him. I had wanted to go to her, and to tell her that I would do anything she bade me – oh, so often! But how could I venture? Besides, I was afraid of frightening her if I appeared in her room from the cardinal's portrait."

"But she was not frightened?" Don Agostino asked.

"Niente affatto!" returned Concetta, emphatically. "It was I who was frightened when I saw her leaning out of the window in the moonlight and calling to her lover. I feared she might be walking in her sleep, and that she might throw herself down on the terrace. Ah, but she knows now that there are those who are ready to help her – and she will know it better in a few days' time."

Don Agostino looked at her. "How do you mean? Why should she know it better in a few days than she does now?" he asked.

Concetta pursed up her lips. "She will know it," she repeated, "and so will the principessa and the Abbé Roux. I am nothing – only a woman – but there are men who will help her – all Montefiano, if it comes to that."

Don Agostino looked at her with greater attention. He had already heard through Ernana something concerning the ill-feeling the dismissal of Sor Beppe had aroused in Montefiano; and something, too, of the part the Abbé Roux was supposed to have played in bringing about the fattore'sdismissal.

"What do you mean?" he repeated. "You may speak openly to me, figlia mia," he continued, "for I also would do all I could to help Donna Bianca Acorari and to protect her from any evil designs against her. Moreover, Donna Bianca's fidanzato is my friend, and his father and I have been friends for many years. After all, it is I, is it not, who have asked your father to convey that packet to the principessina? And he told me of the means whereby it might be conveyed."

Concetta started. "Ah! he told you of the passage?" she exclaimed.

"Certainly," replied Don Agostino. "So you see," he added, "I am aware that it is possible to communicate with Donna Bianca without the fact being known to those who are trying to isolate her from the outer world. If you have the principessina's welfare at heart, as I am sure that you have, you will take me entirely into your confidence, will you not?"

Concetta nodded. "I know nothing for certain as yet," she said, after hesitating for a moment, "but the people are angry, reverendo, very angry."

"Yes, I have heard something of that," said Don Agostino, as Concetta paused. "They are angry at the rents having been raised, and at your father's having been dismissed for his opposition to the increase. But his dismissal has nothing to do with Donna Bianca's position, and the people's anger will not help her, so far as I can see."

"Ah, but it will help her," replied Concetta, eagerly. "They are angry about the rents and about my father, that is true; but they are also indignant at the way in which the principessina is shut up and not allowed to see anybody. They have heard that she is in love with somebody whom she is forbidden to see any more, and that the princess's brother wants to force her to marry him instead. And they have put the dots upon the i's, and believe that the foreign priest is at the bottom of the whole affair. You must remember, reverendo, that we Montefianesi look upon the principessina as our padrona. We do not want foreigners to interfere between us and the Principessina Bianca."

"I understand that perfectly well," Don Agostino observed, quietly. "But how do the Montefianesi propose to remedy matters? After all, Donna Bianca is a minor, and as such she is not yet her own mistress; nor," he added, "can her people here, however devoted to her they may be, make her so."

"But they can make the principessa get rid of those who are advising her badly," said Concetta. "I do not know what has been decided," she continued, lowering her voice, "but last night there was a meeting at the Caffè Garibaldi. Of course, my father would not be present, for it was his dismissal that they were by way of discussing – that and the raising of the rents. But I am certain that they will have talked about other things besides these; and I know that Sor Stefano meant to propose that a deputation should go to the princess and insist on the rents being lowered to their original amount, and on my father being retained as fattore."

"Precisely," interrupted Don Agostino. "But in what way will Donna Bianca be helped by all this talk? That is what I do not understand, figlia mia."

Concetta directed a shrewd glance at him. "In this way," she replied, "Sor Stefano – oh, and many others, too – intend to see the Principessina Bianca herself, and to explain to her that she and nobody else is padrona at Montefiano, and that they will hear from her own lips, when they have explained matters to her, whether what has been done in her name has her approval or not. This they will do, reverendo, not because they do not understand that the principessina is still a child, so to speak, but because they intend Monsieur l'Abbé and the baron to understand that their schemes are known and will not be tolerated. Mi spiego reverendo?"

Don Agostino's face flushed and his eyes sparkled with an unusual excitement.

"Do you explain yourself?" he said, repeating Concetta's last words. "Certainly, you explain yourself very well. Ah, if your Montefianesi do that, they will, indeed, be helping their padrona."

He paused suddenly, and his countenance became grave and preoccupied.

"And this deputation to the princess," he said, presently – "does your father know of the proposal?"

"Certainly he knows of it," answered Concetta; "but naturally," she added, "he can take no part in it. It is Sor Stefano who will be at the head of it, or perhaps the sindaco– oh, and representatives chosen by the contadini. And you, reverendo, you will surely be asked to join it as the parroco. Sicuro! it will all have been settled last night; but as yet I have seen nobody, for until I had delivered the principessina's letter, as I promised her I would do, I could not be easy in my mind."

Don Agostino's expression remained grave and thoughtful. That the people of Montefiano should resent the interference of the Abbé Roux in their relations with Casa Acorari was certainly natural, and might in the end turn out to be a good thing for both Donna Bianca and Silvio. But Don Agostino well knew the danger that must attend any demonstration of hostility towards the princess and her advisers on the part of the peasants. Such demonstrations were apt unexpectedly to assume serious proportions. If the enraged contadini felt that they had the moral support of men like Sor Stefano, they might easily lose their heads, and, should their demands be refused, attempt to enforce them by measures which would necessitate the intervention of the civil authorities, if not of the military. What military intervention too frequently ended in, Don Agostino was fully aware, and he felt every effort should be made to prevent the threatened demonstration assuming any attitude that might furnish an excuse for obtaining it.