The Passport

The peasants, who had fallen back at Silvio's unexpected appearance and at the sight of his revolver, now began to crowd round Don Agostino again, and once more cries of "Morte al pretaccio!" were raised, coupled with threats against Silvio and curses at his interference.

Suddenly a woman's voice rose above the uproar. "Fools! – idiots! Are you trying to murder your best friend, Don Agostino? And that other – do you know who he is? He is the fidanzato of the Principessina Bianca!"

The voice was Concetta Fontana's. Accompanied by her father and Sor Stefano, she forced her way through the crowd to where Don Agostino and Silvio were standing.

"Yes," roared out Sor Beppe, "my daughter is right – and you – you are pigs and beasts, and it is I who say it! Don Agostino knew no more than I did that the soldiers had been summoned. Evviva il fidanzato della principessina!"

The effect of Sor Beppe's intervention was instantaneous, and the mob took up his cry, while Concetta, after whispering a few words in her father's ear, disappeared within the gateway of the castle.

Suddenly a cry arose from the end of the piazza. "The troops – the troops!"

The leaders of the peasants shouted to the rest to follow them. "Back to the castle!" they cried. "The soldiers shall find us there!" and the crowd surged again through the broken-down gates into the court-yard.

"For the love of God, come!" exclaimed Don Agostino to his companions. "We must put ourselves between them and the soldiers, or who knows what may happen? You, Signor Mazza, speak to the peasants – they will listen to you." Accompanied by Silvio, Fontana, and Sor Stefano, Don Agostino hurried to the gateway and entered the court-yard. Already the mob had swarmed up the staircase at the opposite end of the court, and the foremost were attempting to break in the great double doors in the centre of the piano nobile.

They were scarcely inside the court, when the quick tramp of armed men was heard in the piazza; a sharp word of command re-echoed through the gateway, and then a long metallic rattle of steel, as a company of grenadiers and a detachment of infantry fixed bayonets. A moment afterwards the granatieri marched through the gateway, the officer in command of them being accompanied by a delegate of public safety wearing the tricolor scarf.

The delegate stepped forward, and in the name of the law called upon the rioters to desist. A shout of defiance answered his words. "We go to see our padrona! Evviva la principessina, abbasso gli stranieri!" and a volley of blows resounded on the doors at the top of the double flight of steps.

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

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

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

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

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

"Agostino Lelli, parroco of Montefiano."

"Silvio Rossano, son of the Senator Rossano."

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

The official looked up to the window again.

"There is surely some mistake – " he began.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, Sor Stefano's voice rang out:

"Ecco la principessina! Evviva la nostra padrona!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Eccolo – Ecco l'Abate! Fuori gli stranieri!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The officer lowered the point of his sword.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Evviva la nostra principessina! Speak, speak!" shouted those nearest to her.

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

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

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

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

Silvio Rossano and Don Agostino, who by a supreme effort over himself had regained his composure, sprang to Bianca's side. The color mounted to her face as she looked at Silvio, and their eyes met. Then she turned from him to the crowd that was swaying like the swell of the sea before a coming storm.

"No!" she called out, imperatively. "There must be no more violence. You say that you will do what I ask you – that you trust me? Well, I ask you to go quietly to your homes, secure in having my word that the injustices committed by the Abate Roux will be removed."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The princess turned from him abruptly.

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

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

Princess Montefiano looked round her.

"Where is the sindaco?" she asked.

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

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

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

The sindaco looked petrified with astonishment.

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

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

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

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

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

Princess Montefiano turned to Don Agostino.

"Stefano Mazza?" she repeated, inquiringly.

Sor Stefano came forward.

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