Sant'' Ilario

  CHAPTER XXV.

  Corona was not much surprised when the messenger brought her carriageand presented the order for Faustina's liberation. When Giovanni hadleft her she had felt that he would find means to procure the younggirl's liberty, and the only thing which seemed strange to her was thefact that Giovanni did not return himself. The messenger said he hadseen him with the cardinal and that Sant' Ilario had given the order touse the carriage. Beyond that, he knew nothing. Corona at once tookFaustina to the Palazzo Montevarchi, and then, with a promise to comeback in the course of the day, she went home to rest.

  She needed repose even more than Faustina, who, after all, had sleptsoundly on her prison bed, trusting with childlike faith in herfriend's promise that she should be free in the morning. Corona, on thecontrary, had passed a wakeful night, and was almost worn out withfatigue. She remained in her room until twelve o'clock, the hour whenthe members of the family met at the midday breakfast. She found herfather-in-law waiting for her, and at a glance she saw that he was in asavage humour. His bronzed face was paler than usual and his movementsmore sudden and nervous, while his dark eyes gleamed angrily beneathhis bent and shaggy brows. Corona, on her part, was silent andpreoccupied. In spite of the tragic events of the night, which, afterall, only affected her indirectly at present, and in spite of theconstant moral suffering which now played so important a part in herlife, she could not but be disturbed by the tremendous loss sustainedby her husband and by his father. It fell most heavily upon the latter,who was an old man, and whose mind was not engaged by any otherabsorbing consideration, but the blow was a terrible one to the otheralso.

  "Where is Giovanni?" asked Saracinesca brusquely, as they sat down tothe table.

  "I do not know," answered Corona. "The last I heard of him was that hewas with Cardinal Antonelli. I suppose that after getting the order torelease Faustina he stayed there."

  "So his Eminence suffered himself to be persuaded that a little girldid not strangle that old tanner," remarked the prince.

  "Apparently."

  "If they had taken Flavia it would have been more natural. She wouldhave inaugurated her reign as Princess Saracinesca by a night in theTermini. Delightful contrast! I suppose you know who did it?"

  "No. Probably a servant, though they say that nothing was stolen."

  "San Giacinto did it. I have thought the whole matter out, and I amconvinced of it. Look at his hands. He could strangle an elephant. Notthat he could have had any particular reason for liquidating hisfather-in-law. He is rich enough without Flavia's share, but I alwaysthought he would kill somebody one of these days, ever since I met himat Aquila."

  "Without any reason, why should he have done it?"

  "My dear child, when one has no reason to give, it is very hard to saywhy a thing occurs. He looks like the man."

  "Is it conceivable that after getting all he could desire he shouldendanger his happiness in such a way?"

  "Perhaps not. I believe he did it. What an abominable omelet--a glassof water, Pasquale. Abominable, is it not, Corona? Perfectly uneatable.I suppose the cook has heard of our misfortunes and wants to leave."

  "I fancy we are not very hungry," remarked Corona, in order to saysomething.

  "I would like to know whether the murderer is eating his breakfast atthis moment, and whether he has any appetite. It would be interestingfrom a psychological point of view. By the bye, all this is very like ajettatura."

  "What?"

  "Montevarchi coming to his end on the very day he had won the suit. Ingood old times it would have been Giovanni who would have cut histhroat, after which we should have all retired to Saracinesca andprepared for a siege. Less civilised but twice as human. No doubt theywill say now--even now--that we paid a man to do the work."

  "But it was San Giacinto who brought the suit--"

  "It was Montevarchi. I have seen my lawyer this morning. He says thatMontevarchi sent the people out to Frascati to see San Giacinto andexplained the whole matter to them beforehand. He discovered the clausein the deeds first. San Giacinto never even saw them until everythingwas ready. And on the evening of the very day when it was settled,Montevarchi is murdered. I wonder that it has not struck any one to saywe did it."

  "You did not oppose the suit. If you had, it would have been different."

  "How could I oppose the action? It was clear from the beginning that wehad no chance of winning it. The fact remains that we are turned out ofour home. The sooner we leave this the better. It will only be harderto go if we stay here."

  "Yes," answered Corona sadly. "It will be harder."

  "I believe it is a judgment of heaven on Giovanni for his outrageousconduct," growled the prince, suddenly running away with a new idea.

  "On Giovanni?" Corona was roused immediately by the mention of herhusband in such a connection.

  "Yes, for his behaviour to you, the young scoundrel! I ought to havedisinherited him at once."

  "Please do not talk in that way. I cannot let you say--"

  "He is my own son, and I will say what I please," interruptedSaracinesca fiercely. "He treated you outrageously, I say. It is justlike a woman to deny it and defend her husband."

  "Since there is no one else to defend him, I must. He was misled, andnaturally enough, considering the appearances. I did not know that youknew about it all."

  "I do not know all, nor half. But I know enough. A man who suspectssuch a woman as you deserves to be hanged. Besides," he addedirrelevantly, but with an intuitive keenness that startled Corona,"besides, you have not forgiven him."

  "Indeed I have--"

  "In a Christian spirit, no doubt. I know you are good. But you do notlove him as you did. It is useless to deny it. Why should you? I do notblame you, I am sure."

  The prince fixed his bright eyes on her face and waited for her answer.She turned a little paler and said nothing for several moments. Then ashe watched her he saw the colour mount slowly to her olive cheeks. Sheherself could hardly have accounted for the unwonted blush, and a mancapable of more complicated reasoning than her father-in-law would havemisinterpreted it. Corona had at first been angry at the thought thathe could speak as he did of Giovanni, saying things she would not sayto herself concerning him. Then she felt a curious sensation of shameat being discovered. It was true that she did not love her husband, orat least that she believed herself unable to love him; but she wasashamed that any one else should know it.

  "Why will you persist in talking about the matter?" she asked atlength. "It is between us two."

  "It seems to me that it concerns me," returned Saracinesca, who wasnaturally pertinacious. "I am not inquisitive. I ask no questions.Giovanni has said very little about it to me. But I am not blind. Hecame to me one evening and said he was going to take you away to themountains. He seemed very much disturbed, and I saw that there had beentrouble between you, and that he suspected you of something. He did notsay so, but I knew what he meant. If it had turned out true I think Iwould have--well, I would not have answered for my conduct. Of course Itook his part, but you fell ill, and did not know that. When he cameand told me that he had been mistaken I abused him like a thief. I haveabused him ever since whenever I have had a chance. It was a vile,dastardly, foolish, ridiculous--"

  "For heaven's sake!" cried Corona, interrupting him. "Pray, pray leavethe question in peace! I am so unhappy!"

  "So am I," answered Saracinesca bluntly. "It does not add to myhappiness to know that my son has made an ass of himself. Worse thanthat. You do not seem to realise that I am very fond of you. If I hadnot been such an old man I should have fallen in love with you as wellas Giovanni. Do you remember when I rode over to Astrardente, and askedyou to marry him? I would have given all I am--all I was worth, I mean,to be in Giovanni's shoes when I brought back your answer. Bah! I am anold fellow and no Apollo either! But you have been a good daughter tome, Corona, and I will not let any one behave badly to you."

  "And you have been good to me--so good! But you must not be angr
y withGiovanni. He was misled. He loved me even then."

  "I wish I were as charitable as you."

  "Do not call me charitable. I am anything but that. If I were Iwould--" She stopped short.

  "Yes, I know, you would love him as you did before. Then you would notbe Corona, but some one else. I know that sort of argument. But youcannot be two persons at one time. The other woman, whom you have gotin your mind, and who would love Giovanni, is a weak-minded kind ofcreature who bears anything and everything, who will accept any sort ofexcuse for an insult, and will take credit to herself for beinglong-suffering because she has not the spirit to be justly angry. Thankheaven you are not like that. If you were, Giovanni would not have hadyou for a wife nor I for a daughter."

  "I think it is my fault. I would do anything in the world to make itotherwise."

  "You admit the fact then? Of course. It is a misfortune, and not yourfault. It is one more misfortune among so many. You may forgive him, ifyou please. I will not. By the bye, I wonder why he does not come back.I would like to hear the news."

  "The cardinal may have kept him to breakfast."

  "Since seven o'clock this morning? That is impossible. Unless hisEminence has arrested him on charge of the murder." The old gentlemanlaughed gruffly, little guessing how near his jest lay to the truth.But Corona looked up quickly. The mere idea of such a horriblecontingency was painful to her, absurd and wildly improbable as itappeared.

  "I was going to ask him to go up to Saracinesca to-morrow and see tothe changes," continued the prince.

  "Must it be so soon?" asked Corona regretfully. "Is it absolutelydecided? Have you not yielded too easily?"

  "I cannot go over all the arguments again," returned her father-in-lawwith some impatience. "There is no doubt about it. I expended all mycoolness and civility on San Giacinto when he came to see me about it.It is of no use to complain, and we cannot draw back. I suppose I mightgo down on my knees to the Pope and ask his Holiness for anothertitle--for the privilege of being called something, Principe diCavolfiore, if you like. But I will not do it. I will die as LeoneSaracinesca. You can give Giovanni your old title, if you please--it isyours to give."

  "He shall have it if he wants it. What does it matter? I can be DonnaCorona."

  "Ay, what does it matter, provided we have peace? What does anythingmatter in this unutterably ridiculous world--except your happiness,poor child! Yes. Everything must be got ready. I will not stay in thishouse another week."

  "But in a week it will be impossible to do all there is to be done!"exclaimed Corona, whose feminine mind foresaw infinite difficulties inmoving.

  "Possible, or impossible, it must be accomplished. I have appointedthis day week for handing over the property. The lawyers said, as yousay, that it would need more time. I told them that there was no time,and that if they could not do it, I would employ some one else. Theytalked of sitting up all night--as if I cared whether they lost theirbeauty sleep or not! A week from to-day everything must be settled, sothat I have not in my possession a penny that does not belong to me."

  "And then--what will you do?" asked Corona, who saw in spite of hisvehemence how much he was affected by the prospect.

  "And then? What then? Live somewhere else, I suppose, and pray for aneasy death."

  No one had ever heard Leone Saracinesca say before now that he desiredto die, and the wish seemed so contrary to the nature of his characterthat Corona looked earnestly at him. His face was discomposed, and hisvoice had trembled. He was a brave man, and a very honourable one, buthe was very far from being a philosopher. As he had said, he hadexpended all his calmness in that one meeting with San Giacinto when hehad been persuaded of the justice of the latter's claims. Since then hehad felt nothing but bitterness, and the outward expression of it waseither an unreasonable irritation concerning small matters, or somepassionate outburst like the present against life, against the world inwhich he lived, against everything. It is scarcely to be wondered atthat he should have felt the loss so deeply, more deeply even thanGiovanni. He had been for many years the sole head and master of hishouse, and had borne all the hereditary dignities that belonged to hisstation, some of which were of a kind that pleased his love of feudaltraditions. For the money he cared little. The loss that hurt him mosttouched his pride, and that generous vanity which was a part of hisnature, which delighted in the honour accorded to his name, to his son,to his son's wife, in the perpetuation of his race and in a certaindominating independence, that injured no one and gave himself immensesatisfaction. At his age he was not to be blamed for such feelings.They proceeded in reality far more from habit than from a vaindisposition, and it seemed to him that if he bore the calamity bravelyhe had a right to abuse his fate in his own language. But he could notalways keep himself from betraying more emotion than he cared to show.

  "Do not talk of death," said Corona. "Giovanni and I will make yourlife happy and worth living." She sighed as she spoke, in spite ofherself.

  "Giovanni and you!" repeated the prince gloomily. "But for hisfolly--what is the use of talking? I have much to do. If he comes toyou this afternoon please tell him that I want him."

  Corona was glad when the meal was ended, and she went back to her ownroom. She had promised to go and see Faustina again, but otherwise shedid not know how to occupy herself. A vague uneasiness beset her as thetime passed and her husband did not come home. It was unlike him tostay away all day without warning her, though she was obliged toconfess to herself that she had of late shown very little interest inhis doings, and that it would not be very surprising if he began to doas he pleased without informing her of his intentions. Nevertheless shewished he would show himself before evening. The force of habit wasstill strong, and she missed him without quite knowing it. At last shemade an effort against her apathy, and went out to pay the promisedvisit.

  The Montevarchi household was subdued under all the outward pomp of aponderous mourning. The gates and staircases were hung with black. Inthe vast antechamher the canopy was completely hidden by an enormoushatchment before which the dead prince had lain in state during theprevious night and a part of the day. According to the Roman custom thebody had been already removed, the regulations of the city requiringthat this should be done within twenty-four hours. The great blackpedestals on which the lights had been placed were still standing, andlent a ghastly and sepulchral appearance to the whole. Numbers ofservants in mourning liveries stood around an immense copper brazier ina corner, talking together in low tones, their voices dying awayaltogether as the Princess Sant' Ilario entered the open door of thehall. The man who came forward appeared to be the person in charge ofthe funeral, for Corona had not seen him in the house before.

  "Donna Faustina expects me," she said, continuing to walk towards theentrance to the apartments.

  "Your Excellency's name?" inquired the man. Corona was surprised thathe should ask, and wondered whether even the people of his classalready knew the result of the suit.

  "Donna Corona Saracinesca," she answered in distinct tones. Theappellation sounded strange and unfamiliar.

  "Donna Corona Saracinesca," the man repeated in a loud voice a secondlater. He had almost run into San Giacinto, who was coming out at thatmoment. Corona found herself face to face with her cousin.

  "You--princess!" he exclaimed, putting out his hand. In spite of therelationship he was not privileged to call her by her name. "You--whydoes the man announce you in that way?"

  Corona took his hand and looked quietly into his face. They had not metsince the decision.

  "I told him to do so. I shall be known by that name in future. I havecome to see Faustina." She would have passed on.

  "Allow me to say," said San Giacinto, in his deep, calm voice, "that asfar as I am concerned you are, and always shall be, Princess Sant'Ilario. No one can regret more than I the position in which I am placedtowards you and yours, and I shall certainly do all in my power toprevent any such unnecessary changes."

  "We cannot discuss tha
t matter here," answered Corona, speaking morecoldly than she meant to do.

  "I trust there need be no discussion. I even hope that you will bear meno ill will."

  "I bear you none. You have acted honestly and openly. You had right onyour side. But neither my husband nor I will live under a borrowedname."

  San Giacinto seemed hurt by her answer. He stood aside to allow her topass, and there was something dignified in his demeanour that pleasedCorona.

  "The settlement is not made yet," he said gravely. "Until then the nameis yours."

  When she was gone he looked after her with an expression of annoyanceupon his face. He understood well enough what she felt, but he was veryfar from wishing to let any unpleasantness arise between him and herfamily. Even in the position to which he had now attained he felt thatthere was an element of uncertainty, and he did not feel able todispense with the good-will of his relations, merely because he wasPrince Saracinesca and master of a great fortune. His early life hadmade him a cautious man, and he did not underestimate the value ofpersonal influence. Moreover, he had not a bad heart, and preferred ifpossible to be on good terms with everybody. According to his own viewhe had done nothing more than claim what was legitimately his, but hedid not want the enmity of those who had resigned all into his hands.

  Corona went on her way and found Faustina and Flavia together. Theirmother was not able to see any one. The rest of the family had gone tothe country as soon as the body had been taken away, yielding withoutany great resistance to the entreaties of their best friends who,according to Roman custom, thought it necessary to "divert" themourners. That is the consecrated phrase, and people of other countriesmay open their eyes in astonishment at the state of domestic relationsas revealed by this practice. It is not an uncommon thing for themajority of the family to go away even before death has actually takenplace. Speaking of a person who is dying, it is not unusual to say,"You may imagine how ill he is, for the family has left him!" Theservants attend the Requiem Mass, the empty carriages follow the hearseto the gates of the city, but the family is already in the country,trying to "divert" itself.

  Flavia and Faustina, however, had stayed at home, partly because theold princess was really too deeply moved and profoundly shocked to goaway, and partly because San Giacinto refused to leave Rome. Faustina,too, was eccentric enough to think such haste after "diversion"altogether indecent, and she herself had been through such a series ofemotions during the twenty-four hours that she found rest needful. Asfor Flavia, she took matters very calmly, but would have preferred verymuch to be with her brothers and their wives. The calamity had for thetime subdued her vivacity, though it was easy to see that it had madeno deep impression upon her nature. If the truth were told, she wasmore unpleasantly affected by thus suddenly meeting Corona than by herfather's tragic death. She thought it necessary to be more than usuallyaffectionate, not out of calculation, but rather to get rid of adisagreeable impression. She sprang forward and kissed Corona on bothcheeks.

  "I was longing to see you!" she said enthusiastically. "You have beenso kind to Faustina. I am sure we can never thank you enough. Imagine,if she had been obliged to spend the night alone in prison! Such anabominable mistake, too. I hope that dreadful man will be sent to thegalleys. Poor little Faustina! How could any one think she could dosuch a thing!"

  Corona was not prepared for Flavia's manner, and it grated disagreeablyon her sensibilities. But she said nothing, only returning hersalutation with becoming cordiality before sitting down between the twosisters. Faustina looked on coldly, disgusted with such indifference.It struck her that if Corona had not accompanied her to the Termini, itwould have been very hard to induce any of her own family to do so.

  "And poor papa!" continued Flavia volubly. "Is it not too dreadful, toohorrible? To think of any one daring! I shall never get over theimpression it made on me--never. Without a priest, without anyone--poor dear!"

  "Heaven is very merciful," said Corona, thinking it necessary to makesome such remark.

  "Oh, I know," answered Flavia, with sudden seriousness. "I know. Butpoor papa--you see--I am afraid--"

  She stopped significantly and shook her head, evidently implying thatPrince Montevarchi's chances of blessedness were but slender.

  "Flavia!" cried Faustina indignantly, "how can you say such things!"

  "Oh, I say nothing, and besides, I daresay--you see he was sometimesvery kind. It was only yesterday, for instance, that he actuallypromised me those earrings--you know, Faustina, the pearl drops atCivilotti's--it is true, they were not so very big after all. He reallysaid he would give them to me as a souvenir if--oh! I forgot."

  She stopped with some embarrassment, for she had been on the point ofsaying that the earrings were to be a remembrance if the suit were won,when she recollected that she was speaking to Corona.

  "Well--it would have been very kind of him if he had," she added."Perhaps that is something. Poor papa! One would feel more sure aboutit, if he had got some kind of absolution."

  "I do not believe you cared for him at all!" exclaimed Faustina. Coronaevidently shared this belief, for she looked very grave and was silent.

  "Oh, Faustina, how unkind you are!" cried Flavia in great astonishmentand some anger. "I am sure I loved poor papa as much as any of you, andperhaps a great deal better. We were always such good friends!"

  Faustina raised her eyebrows a little and looked at Corona as though tosay that her sister was hopeless, and for some minutes no one spoke.

  "You are quite rested now?" asked Corona at last, turning to the younggirl. "Poor child! what you must have suffered!"

  "It is strange, but I am not tired. I slept, you know, for I was wornout."

  "Faustina's grief did not keep her awake," observed Flavia, willing tosay something disagreeable.

  "I only came to see how you were," said Corona, who did not care toprolong the interview. "I hope to hear that your mother is betterto-morrow. I met Saracinesca as I came in, but I did not ask him."

  "Your father-in-law?" asked Faustina innocently. "I did not know he hadbeen here."

  "No; your husband, my dear," answered Corona, looking at Flavia as shespoke. She was curious to see what effect the change had produced uponher. Flavia's cheeks flushed quickly, evidently with pleasure, if alsowith some embarrassment. But Corona was calm and unmoved as usual.

  "I did not know you already called him so," said Flavia. "How strangeit will be!"

  "We shall soon get used to it," replied Corona, with a smile, as sherose to go. "I wish you many years of happiness with your new name.Good-bye." Faustina went with her into one of the outer rooms.

  "Tell me," she said, when they were alone, "how did your husband manageit so quickly? They told me to-day that the cardinal had at firstrefused. I cannot understand it. I could not ask you before Flavia--sheis so inquisitive!"

  "I do not know--I have not seen Giovanni yet. He stayed with thecardinal when the carriage came for us. It was managed in some way, andquickly. I shall hear all about it this evening. What is it, dear?"

  There were tears in Faustina's soft eyes, followed quickly by a littlesob.

  "I miss him dreadfully!" she exclaimed, laying her head on her friend'sshoulder. "And I am so unhappy! We parted angrily, and I can never tellhim how sorry I am. You do not think it could have had anything to dowith it, do you?"

  "Your little quarrel? No, child. What could it have changed? We do notknow what happened."

  "I shall never forget his face. I was dreadfully undutiful--oh! I couldalmost marry that man if it would do any good!"

  Corona smiled sadly. The young girl's sorrow was genuine, in strangecontrast to Flavia's voluble flippancy. She laid her handaffectionately on the thick chestnut hair.

  "Perhaps he sees now that you should not marry against your heart."

  "Oh, do you think so? I wish it were possible. I should not feel asthough I were so bad if I thought he understood now. I could bear itbetter. I should not feel as though it were almost a dut
y to marryFrangipani."

  Corona turned quickly with an expression that was almost fierce in itsintensity. She took Faustina's hands in hers.

  "Never do that, Faustina. Whatever comes to you, do not do that! You donot know what it is to live with a man you do not love, even if you donot hate him. It is worse than death."

  Corona kissed her and left her standing by the door. Was it possible,Faustina asked, that Corona did not love her husband? Or was shespeaking of her former life with old Astrardente? Of course, it must bethat. Giovanni and Corona were a proverbially happy couple.

  When Corona again entered her own room, there was a note lying upon thetable, the one her husband had written that morning from his place ofconfinement. She tore the envelope open with an anxiety of which shehad not believed herself capable. She had asked for him when shereturned and he had not been heard of yet. The vague uneasiness she hadfelt at his absence suddenly increased, until she felt that unless shesaw him at once she must go in search of him. She read the note throughagain and again, without clearly understanding the contents.

  It was evident that he had left Rome suddenly and had not cared to tellher whither he was going, since the instructions as to what she was tosay were put in such a manner as to make it evident that they were onlyto serve as an excuse for his absence to others, and not as anexplanation to herself. The note was enigmatical and might mean almostanything. At last Corona tossed the bit of paper into the fire, andtapped the thick carpet impatiently with her foot.

  "How coldly he writes!" she exclaimed aloud.

  The door opened and her maid appeared.

  "Will your Excellency receive Monsieur Gouache?" asked the woman fromthe threshold.

  "No! certainly not!" answered Corona, in a voice that frightened theservant. "I am not at home."

  "Yes, your Excellency."