CHAPTER III.
While Giovanni was at the Palazzo Montevarchi, and while Corona wasbusy with her dressmakers, Prince Saracinesca was dozing over theOsservatore Romano in his study. To tell the truth the paper was lessdull than usual, for there was war and rumour of war in its columns.Garibaldi had raised a force of volunteers and was in the neighbourhoodof Arezzo, beginning to skirmish with the outlying posts of thepontifical army along the frontier. The old gentleman did not know, ofcourse, that on that very day the Italian Government was issuing itsproclamation against the great agitator, and possibly if he had beenaware of the incident it would not have produced any very strongimpression upon his convictions. Garibaldi was a fact, and Saracinescadid not believe that any proclamations would interfere with his marchunless backed by some more tangible force. Even had he known that theguerilla general had been arrested at Sinalunga and put in confinementas soon as the proclamation had appeared, the prince would haveforeseen clearly enough that the prisoner's escape would be only aquestion of a few days, since there were manifold evidences that anunderstanding existed between Ratazzi and Garibaldi of much the samenature as that which in 1860 had been maintained between Garibaldi andCavour during the advance upon Naples. The Italian Government kept menunder arms to be ready to take advantage of any successes obtained bythe Garibaldian volunteers, and at the same time to suppress therepublican tendencies of the latter, which broke out afresh with everynew advance, and disappeared, as by magic, under the depressinginfluence of a forced retreat.
The prince knew all these things, and had reflected upon them so oftenthat they no longer afforded enough interest to keep him awake. Thewarm September sun streamed into the study and fell upon the paper asit slowly slipped over the old gentleman's knees, while his head sanklower and lower on his breast. The old enamelled clock upon thechimney-piece ticked more loudly, as clocks seem to do when people areasleep and they are left to their own devices, and a few belated flieschased each other in the sunbeams.
The silence was broken by the entrance of a servant, who would havewithdrawn again when he saw that his master was napping, had not thelatter stirred and raised his head before the man had time to get away.Then the fellow came forward with an apology and presented avisiting-card. The prince stared at the bit of pasteboard, rubbed hiseyes, stared again, and then laid it upon the table beside him, hiseyes still resting on the name, which seemed so much to surprise him.Then he told the footman to introduce the visitor, and a few momentslater a very tall man entered the room, hat in hand, and advancedslowly towards him with the air of a person who has a perfect right topresent himself but wishes to give his host time to recognise him.
The prince remembered the newcomer very well. The closely-buttonedfrock-coat showed the man's imposing figure to greater advantage thanthe dress in which Saracinesca had last seen him, but there was nomistaking the personality. There was the same lean but massive face,broadened by the high cheekbones and the prominent square jaw; therewere the same piercing black eyes, set near together under eyebrowsthat met in the midst of the forehead, the same thin and cruel lips,and the same strongly-marked nose, set broadly on at the nostrils,though pointed and keen. Had the prince had any doubts as to hisvisitor's identity they would have been dispelled by the man's greatheight and immense breadth of shoulder, which would have made it hardindeed for him to disguise himself had he wished to do so. But thoughvery much surprised, Saracinesca had no doubts whatever. The onlypoints that were new to him in the figure before him were the outwardmanner and appearance, and the dress of a gentleman.
"I trust I am not disturbing you, prince?" The words were spoken in adeep, clear voice, and with a notable southern accent.
"Not at all. I confess I am astonished at seeing you in Rome. Is thereanything I can do for you? I shall always be grateful to you for havingbeen alive to testify to the falsehood of that accusation made againstmy son. Pray sit down. How is your Signora? And the children? All well,I hope?"
"My wife is dead," returned the other, and the grave tones of his bassvoice lent solemnity to the simple statement.
"I am sincerely sorry--" began the prince, but his visitor interruptedhim.
"The children are well. They are in Aquila for the present. I have cometo establish myself in Rome, and my first visit is naturally toyourself, since I have the advantage of being your cousin."
"Naturally," ejaculated Saracinesca, though his face expressedconsiderable surprise.
"Do not imagine that I am going to impose myself upon you as a poorrelation," continued the other with a faint smile. "Fortune has beenkind to me since we met, perhaps as a compensation for the loss Isuffered in the death of my poor wife. I have a sufficient independenceand can hold my own."
"I never supposed--"
"You might naturally have supposed that I had come to solicit yourfavour, though it is not the case. When we parted I was an innkeeper inAquila. I have no cause to be ashamed of my past profession. I onlywish to let you know that it is altogether past, and that I intend toresume the position which my great-grandfather foolishly forfeited. Asyou are the present head of the family I judged that it was my duty toinform you of the fact immediately."
"By all means. I imagined this must be the case from your card. You areentirely in your rights, and I shall take great pleasure in informingevery one of the fact. You are the Marchese di San Giacinto, and theinn at Aquila no longer exists."
"As these things must be done, once and for always, I have brought mypapers to Rome," answered the Marchese. "They are at your disposal, foryou certainly have a right to see them, if you like. I will recall toyour memory the facts of our history, in case you have forgotten them."
"I know the story well enough," said Saracinesca. "Ourgreat-grandfathers were brothers. Yours went to live in Naples. His songrew up and joined the French against the King. His lands wereforfeited, he married and died in obscurity, leaving your father, hisonly son. Your father died young and you again are his only son. Youmarried the Signora Felice--"
"Baldi," said the Marchese, nodding in confirmation of the variousstatements.
"The Signora Felice Baldi, by whom you have two children--"
"Boys."
"Two boys. And the Signora Marchesa, I grieve to hear, is dead. Is thataccurate?"
"Perfectly. There is one circumstance, connected with ourgreat-grandfathers, which you have not mentioned, but which I am sureyou remember."
"What is that?" asked the prince, fixing his keen eyes on hiscompanion's face.
"It is only this," replied San Giacinto, calmly. "My great-grandfatherwas two years older than yours. You know he never meant to marry, andresigned the title to his younger brother, who had children already. Hetook a wife in his old age, and my grandfather was the son born to him.That is why you are so much older than I, though we are of the samegeneration in the order of descent."
"Yes," assented the prince. "That accounts for it. Will you smoke?"
Giovanni Saracinesca, Marchese di San Giacinto, looked curiously at hiscousin as he took the proffered cigar. There was something abrupt inthe answer which attracted his attention and roused his quicksuspicions. He wondered whether that former exchange of titles, andconsequent exchange of positions were an unpleasant subject ofconversation to the prince. But the latter, as though anticipating sucha doubt in his companion's mind, at once returned to the question withthe boldness which was natural to him.
"There was a friendly agreement," he said, striking a match andoffering it to the Marchese. "I have all the documents, and havestudied them with interest. It might amuse you to see them, some day."
"I should like to see them, indeed," answered San Giacinto. "They mustbe very curious. As I was saying, I am going to establish myself inRome. It seems strange to me to be playing the gentleman--it must seemeven more odd to you."
"It would be truer to say that you have been playing the innkeeper,"observed the prince, courteously. "No one would suspect it," he added,glancing at his companion's corre
ct attire.
"I have an adaptable nature," said the Marchese, calmly. "Besides, Ihave always looked forward to again taking my place in the world. Ihave acquired a little instruction--not much, you will say, but it issufficient as the times go; and as for education, it is the same forevery one, innkeeper or prince. One takes off one's hat, one speaksquietly, one says what is agreeable to hear--is it not enough?"
"Quite enough," replied the prince. He was tempted to smile at hiscousin's definition of manners, though he could see that the man wasquite able to maintain his position. "Quite enough, indeed, and as forinstruction, I am afraid most of us have forgotten our Latin. You needhave no anxiety on that score. But, tell me, how comes it that, havingbeen bred in the south, you prefer to establish yourself in Rome ratherthan in Naples? They say that you Neapolitans do not like us."
"I am a Roman by descent, and I wish to become one in fact," returnedthe Marchese. "Besides," he added, in a peculiarly grave tone of voice,"I do not like the new order of things. Indeed, I have but one favourto ask of you, and that is a great one."
"Anything in my power--"
"To present me to the Holy Father as one who desires to become hisfaithful subject. Could you do so, do you think, without any greatinconvenience?"
"Eh! I shall be delighted! Magari!" answered the prince, heartily. "Totell the truth, I was afraid you meant to keep your Italianconvictions, and that, in Rome, would be against you, especially inthese stormy days. But if you will join us heart and soul you will bereceived with open arms. I shall take great pleasure in seeing you makethe acquaintance of my son and his wife. Come and dine this evening."
"Thank you," said the Marchese. "I will not fail."
After a few more words San Giacinto took his leave, and the princecould not but admire the way in which this man, who had been brought upamong peasants, or at best among the small farmers of an outlyingdistrict, assumed at once an air of perfect equality while allowingjust so much of respect to appear in his manner as might properly beshown by a younger member to the head of a great house. When he wasgone Saracinesca rang the bell.
"Pasquale," he said, addressing the old butler who answered thesummons, "that gentleman who is just gone is my cousin, Don GiovanniSaracinesca, who is called Marchese di San Giacinto. He will dine herethis evening. You will call him Eccellenza, and treat him as a memberof the family. Go and ask the princess if she will receive me."
Pasquale opened his mental eyes very wide as he bowed and left theroom. He had never heard of this other Saracinesca, and the appearanceof a new member of the family upon the scene, who must, from hisappearance, have been in existence between thirty and forty years,struck him as astonishing in the extreme; for the old servant had beenbred up in the house from a boy and imagined himself master of all thesecrets connected with the Saracinesca household.
He was, indeed, scarcely less surprised than his master who, althoughhe had been aware for some time past that Giovanni Saracinesca existedand was his cousin, had never anticipated the event of his coming toRome, and had expected still less that the innkeeper would ever assumethe title to which he had a right and play the part of a gentleman, ashe himself had expressed it. There was a strange mixture of boldnessand foresight in the way the old prince had received his new relation.He knew the strength of his own position in society, and that theintroduction of a humble cousin could not possibly do him harm. At theworst, people might laugh a little among themselves and remark that theMarchese must be a nuisance to the Saracinesca. On the other hand, theprince was struck from the first with the air of self-possession whichhe discerned in San Giacinto, and foresaw that the man would veryprobably play a part in Roman life. He was a man who might be disliked,but who could not be despised; and since his claims to considerationwere undeniably genuine, it seemed wiser to accept him from the firstas a member of the family and unhesitatingly to treat him as such.After all, he demanded nothing to which he had not a clear right fromthe moment he announced his intention of taking his place in the world,and it was certainly far wiser to receive him cordially at once, thanto draw back from acknowledging the relationship because he had beenbrought up in another sphere.
This was the substance of what Prince Saracinesca communicated to hisdaughter-in-law a few minutes later. She listened patiently to all hehad to say, only asking a question now and then in order to understandmore clearly what had happened. She was curious to see the man whosename had once been so strangely confounded with her husband's by themachinations of the Conte Del Ferice and Donna Tullia Mayer, and shefrankly confessed her curiosity and her satisfaction at the prospect ofmeeting San Giacinto that evening. While she was talking with theprince, Giovanni unexpectedly returned from his walk. He had turnedhomewards as soon as he had sent the military surgeon to Gouache."Well, Giovannino," cried the old gentleman, "the prodigal innkeeperhas returned to the bosom of the family."
"What innkeeper?"
"Your worthy namesake, and cousin, Giovanni Saracinesca, formerly ofAquila."
"Does Madame Mayer want to prove that it is he who has married Corona?"inquired Sant 'Ilario with a laugh.
"No, though I suppose he is a candidate for marriage. I never was moresurprised in my life. His wife is dead. He is rich, or says he is. Hehas his card printed in full, 'Giovanni Saracinesca, Marchese di SanGiacinto,' in the most correct manner. He wears an excellent coat, andannounces his intention of being presented to the Pope and introducedto Roman society."
Sant' Ilario stared incredulously at his father, and then lookedinquiringly at his wife as though to ask if it were not all a jest.When he was assured that the facts were true he looked grave and slowlystroked his pointed black beard, a gesture which was very unusual withhim, and always accompanied the deepest meditation.
"There is nothing to be done but to receive him into the family," hesaid at last. "But I do not wholly believe in his good intentions. Weshall see. I shall be glad to make his acquaintance."
"He is coming to dinner."
The conversation continued for some time and the arrival of SanGiacinto was discussed in all its bearings. Corona took a verypractical view of the question, and said that it was certainly best totreat him well, thereby relieving her father-in-law of a considerableanxiety. He had indeed feared lest she should resent the introductionof a man who might reasonably be supposed to have retained a certaincoarseness of manner from his early surroundings, and he knew that herconsent was all-important in such a case, since she was virtually themistress of the house. But Corona regarded the matter in much the samelight as the old gentleman himself, feeling that nothing of such anature could possibly injure the imposing position of her husband'sfamily, and taking it for granted that no one who had good blood in hisveins could ever behave outrageously. Of all the three, Sant' Ilariowas the most silent and thoughtful, for he feared certain consequencesfrom the arrival of this new relation which did not present themselvesto the minds of the others, and was resolved to be cautiousaccordingly, even while appearing to receive San Giacinto with all duecordiality. Later in the day he was alone with his father for a fewminutes.
"Do you like this fellow?" he asked, abruptly.
"No," answered the prince.
"Neither do I, though I have not seen him."
"We shall see," was the old gentleman's answer.
The evening came, and at the appointed hour San Giacinto was announced.Both Corona and her husband were surprised at his imposing appearance,as well as at the dignity and self-possession he displayed. Hissouthern accent was not more noticeable than that of many Neapolitangentlemen, and his conversation, if neither very brilliant nor veryfluent, was not devoid of interest. He talked of the agriculturalcondition of the new Italy, and old Saracinesca and his son were bothinterested in the subject. They noticed, too, that during dinner noword escaped him which could give any clue to his former occupation orposition, though afterwards, when the servants were not present, healluded more than once with a frank smile to his experiences as aninnkeeper. On th
e whole, he seemed modest and reserved, yet perfectlyself-possessed and conscious of his right to be where he was.
Such conduct on the part of such a man did not appear so surprising tothe Saracinesca household, as it would have seemed to foreigners. SanGiacinto had said that he had an adaptable character, and thatadaptability is one of the most noticeable features of the Italianrace. It is not necessary to discuss the causes of this peculiarity.They would be incomprehensible to the foreigner at large, who never hasany real understanding of Italians. I do not hesitate to say that,without a single exception, every foreigner, poet or prose-writer, whohas treated of these people has more or less grossly misunderstoodthem. That is a sweeping statement, when it is considered that few menof the highest genius in our century have not at one time or anotherset down upon paper their several estimates of the Italian race. Therequisite for accurately describing people, however, is not genius, butknowledge of the subject. The poet commonly sees himself in others, andthe modern writer upon Italy is apt to believe that he can see othersin himself. The reflection of an Italian upon the mental retina of theforeigner is as deceptive as his own outward image is when seen uponthe polished surface of a concave mirror; and indeed the characterstudies of many great men, when the subject is taken from a race nottheir own, remind one very forcibly of what may be seen bycontemplating oneself in the bowl of a bright silver spoon. Tounderstand Italians a man must have been born and bred among them; andeven then the harder, fiercer instinct, which dwells in northern blood,may deceive the student and lead him far astray. The Italian is anexceedingly simple creature, and is apt to share the opinion of theostrich, who ducks his head and believes his whole body is hidden.Foreigners use strong language concerning the Italian lie; but thisonly proves how extremely transparent the deception is. It is indeed asingular fact, but one which may often be observed, that two Italianswho lie systematically will frequently believe each other, to their ownruin, with a childlike faith rarely found north of the Alps. This seemsto me to prove that their dishonesty has outgrown their indolentintelligence; and indeed they deceive themselves nearly as often asthey succeed in deceiving their neighbours. In a country where a lieeasily finds credence, lying is not likely to be elevated to the rankof a fine art. I have often wondered how such men as Cesare Borgiasucceeded in entrapping their enemies by snares which a modernnortherner would detect from the first and laugh to scorn as merechild's play.
There is an extraordinary readiness in Italians to fit themselves andtheir lives to circumstances whenever they can save themselves troubleby doing so. Their constitutions are convenient to this end, for theyare temperate in most things and do not easily fall into habits whichthey cannot change at will. The desire to avoid trouble makes them themost courteous among nations; and they are singularly obliging tostrangers when, by conferring an obligation, they are able to make anacquaintance who will help them to pass an idle hour in agreeableconversation. They are equally surprised, whether a stranger suspectsthem of making advances for the sake of extracting money from him, orexpresses resentment at having been fraudulently induced to part withany cash. The beggar in the street howls like a madman if you refuse analms, and calls you an idiot to his fellow-mendicant if you give himfive centimes. The servant says in his heart that his foreign employeris a fool, and sheds tears of rage and mortification when his shallowdevices for petty cheating are discovered. And yet the servant, thebeggar, the shopkeeper, and the gentleman, are obliging sometimesalmost to philanthropy, and are ever ready to make themselves agreeable.
The Marchese di San Giacinto differed from his relations, theSaracinesca princes, in that he was a full-blooded Italian, and not theresult of a cosmopolitan race-fusion, like so many of the Roman nobles.He had not the Roman traditions, but, on the other hand, he had hisfull share of the national characteristics, together with somethingindividual which lifted him above the common herd in point ofintelligence and in strength. He was a noticeable man; all the more sobecause, with many pleasant qualities, his countrymen rarely possessthat physical and mental combination of size, energy, and reserve,which inspires the sort of respect enjoyed by imposing personages.
As he sat talking with the family after dinner on the evening of hisfirst introduction to the household what passed in his mind and in theminds of his hosts can be easily stated.
Sant' Ilario, whose ideas were more clear upon most subjects than thoseof his father or his wife, said to himself that he did not like theman; that he suspected him, and believed he had some hidden intentionin coming to Rome; that it would be wise to watch him perpetually andto question everything he did; but that he was undeniably a relation,possessing every right to consideration, and entitled to be treatedwith a certain familiarity; that, finally and on the whole, he was anuisance, to be borne with a good grace and a sufficient show ofcordiality.
San Giacinto, for his part, was deeply engaged in maintaining the exactstandard of manners which he knew to be necessary for the occasion, andhis thoughts concerning his relatives were not yet altogether defined.It was his intention to take his place among them, and he was doing hisbest to accomplish this object as speedily and quietly as possible. Hehad not supposed that princes and princesses were in any way differentfrom other human beings except by the accidents of wealth and socialposition. Master of these two requisites there was no reason why heshould not feel as much at home with the Saracinesca as he had felt inthe society of the mayor and municipal council of Aquila, who possessedthose qualifications also, though in a less degree. The Saracinescaprobably thought about most questions very much as he himself did, orif there were any difference in their mode of thinking it was due toRoman prejudice and tradition rather than to any peculiarity inherentin the organisation of the members of the higher aristocracy. If heshould find himself in any dilemma owing to his ignorance of socialdetails he would not hesitate to apply to the prince for information,since it was by no means his fault if he had been brought up aninnkeeper and was now to be a nobleman. His immediate object was toplace himself among his equals, and his next purpose was to marryagain, in his new rank, a woman of good position and fortune. Of thismatter he intended to speak to the prince in due time, when he shouldhave secured the first requisite to his marriage by establishinghimself firmly in society. He meant to apply to the prince, ostensiblyas to the head of the family, thereby showing a deference to thatdignity, which he supposed would be pleasing to the old gentleman; buthe had not forgotten in his calculations the pride which oldSaracinesca must naturally feel in his race, and which would probablyinduce him to take very great pains in finding a suitable wife for SanGiacinto rather than permit the latter to contract a discreditablealliance.
San Giacinto left the house at half-past nine o'clock, under thepretext of another engagement, for he did not mean to weary hisrelations with too much of his company in the first instance. When hewas gone the three looked at each other in silence for some moments.
"He has surprisingly good manners, for an innkeeper," said Corona atlast. "No one will ever suspect his former life. But I do not like him."
"Nor I," said the prince.
"He wants something," said Sant' Ilario. "And he will probably get it,"he added, after a short pause. "He has a determined face."