The Passport. Bagot Richard
meditations seemed to afford him some pleasure, for he did not hurry himself to answer the question. "Well, really," he continued, at length, with a little chuckle, "I could hardly explain what it is that makes me think so, my dear Jeanne – not to you, at all events, for I do not at all suppose you would understand. But all the same, I think so – oh yes – I certainly think so!" and, rising from his chair, Monsieur d'Antin began to walk up and down the room, gently rubbing his hands together the while.
The princess looked perplexed. "After all, Philippe," she said, "Bianca is only just seventeen. Of course she is tall for her age, and, as you say – er – well developed. I suppose men only judge by what they see – "
"Precisely," interrupted Monsieur d'Antin; "it is the only way we have of forming an idea of – what we do not see."
"I have thought only of her mind – her nature," continued the princess. "I suppose," she added, "that is what you mean? I cannot say that I understand her. I find her silent – apathetic. She seems to me to interest herself in nothing."
"Probably because you do not provide her with sufficient material."
"I try to do my duty by her," returned the princess, a little stiffly. "A step-mother is always placed in a difficult position. Of course, Bianca being, as it were, like an only son, and everything going to her, does not make things easier."
Monsieur d'Antin looked at his sister curiously. She had very rarely spoken to him of family affairs, and he had very little idea how the Montefiano property was settled, beyond a natural conclusion that the old prince would have left the bulk of it to his only child and representative.
"But of course," he observed, "you are always well provided for – in the event of Bianca marrying, I mean – or, as she must do before very long, taking over the estates into her own hands?"
"There is my jointure, certainly," said the princess, "but it is not large. I do not understand business matters very well, but naturally, so long as Bianca is a minor and unmarried, I must be better off than I shall be afterwards. A great deal will depend upon Bianca's husband. That is what Monsieur l'Abbé always says to me – that we must not be in a hurry to marry Bianca. She must not marry a man who simply wants her titles and money to use them for his own purposes."
"Monsieur l'Abbé is perfectly right," said Baron d'Antin, with a dry little laugh.
The princess glanced at him. "You do not like him," she said.
Monsieur d'Antin hesitated for a moment. Then he laughed again, easily.
"Not like him?" he repeated. "But, my dear Jeanne, I like him very much. I am not fond of priests as a rule. They are not – well, not what I am accustomed to, you know. But your tame abbé, I should say that he was a most estimable person, and, no doubt, to a woman in your position, a most useful adviser."
The princess sighed. "Oh, most useful!" she exclaimed. "He is a good man of business, too," she continued. "I feel that he acts as a kind of intermediary between me, as Bianca's representative, and the agents and people. After all, Philippe, I am a foreigner, you know – though I scarcely feel myself to be one – and Bianca is not. So I am doubly glad of Monsieur l'Abbé's advice sometimes."
"But he is as much a foreigner as you are, Jeanne," remarked Monsieur d'Antin.
"Oh, but then he is a priest!" exclaimed the princess. "That makes such a difference. You see, he was brought up in Rome, and went through his studies here."
"An admirable training," said Monsieur d'Antin, suavely.
"Yes, admirable," assented the princess. "It gives such a grasp of, such an insight into, human nature. That is one of the strange things about Bianca, for instance," she added, suddenly.
"That she has an insight into human nature?" demanded Monsieur d'Antin. "If she has, Jeanne, it must be a miraculous gift, for she can have seen little enough of it."
"No, no! I mean that she cannot bear Monsieur l'Abbé. Would you believe it, Philippe, that notwithstanding all his kindness, that child positively refuses to go to confession to him? She refused years ago, and now I never mention the subject."
"Tiens!" observed Monsieur d'Antin.
"It is incredible," continued his sister, "but nevertheless it is true."
Monsieur d'Antin shrugged his shoulders.
"It appears," he said, enigmatically, "that your step-daughter also has studied in Rome."
The princess dropped her voice mysteriously.
"I believe," she said, "that the mother, my blessed husband's first wife, you know, was an odd woman – or child, rather – for she was little more. There was some story – she was in love with some other man who was not thought a good enough match for her, and her family obliged her to marry my poor husband. It was not a happy marriage."
"That," observed Monsieur d'Antin, "was no doubt his reason for marrying again. He was determined to find happiness."
"Ah, well!" Princess Montefiano replied, with a sigh – "he needed rest. His life had been a troubled one, and he needed rest."
Monsieur d'Antin smiled sympathetically. He had heard it remarked in Rome that the late Montefiano had indeed worn himself out at a comparatively early period in life.
"I do not wonder," he said, presently, "that you feel the responsibility of selecting a suitable husband for Bianca. All the same," he added, "I think you will be wise to contemplate the possibility of her not remaining a child indefinitely. If you do not, I should be inclined to regard the footmen as a perpetual source of anxiety."
"Philippe!" exclaimed the princess. "You are really perfectly scandalous! One does not allude to such things, even in jest. But I see what you mean, although I must say that I think you put it rather grossly. I will consult Monsieur l'Abbé about the advisability of gradually letting Bianca see a few more people. I don't want it to be supposed that I am keeping her from marrying when the proper time comes for her to do so; and my only object would be to find her a suitable husband. Of course, as Monsieur l'Abbé says her marriage must almost certainly alter my own circumstances, but one must not allow one's self to think of that."
"Ah," said Monsieur d'Antin, thoughtfully, "Monsieur l'Abbé says so, does he?"
"It is natural that he should look at the matter from all points of view," returned the princess.
"Perfectly natural – from all points of view," repeated Monsieur d'Antin; "and," he added to himself, "more particularly from his own, I imagine. Well," he continued, "I must leave you, Jeanne. I should consult Monsieur Roux, by all means. He looks as though he knew something about feminine development – your little abbé; and you tell me that he has studied in Rome. Au revoir, my dear Jeanne —à bientot! Ah, by-the-way, there is one little matter I had nearly forgotten. Could you without inconvenience – but absolutely without inconvenience – lend me a thousand francs or so? Two thousand would be more useful – I do not say no. In a few weeks my miserable rents must come in, and then we will settle our accounts – but, in the mean time, it would be a great convenience."
The princess looked uneasy. "I will try," she said; "but, to say the truth, it is not a very favorable moment – "
Monsieur d'Antin waved his hands.
"Not a word – not a word more, I beg of you, my dear Jeanne!" he exclaimed. "You will think the matter over; and if two thousand is not convenient, I must make one thousand suffice. In the mean time, di nuovo, as the Italians say," and he kissed his sister affectionately and hurried from the room.
As he walked from the Palazzo Acorari to his little apartment in the Ludovisi quarter of the city, Monsieur d'Antin was unusually preoccupied, and more than once he chuckled to himself. His sister Jeanne was certainly not gifted with a sense of humor, but he found himself wondering whether she was quite as incompetent to look after her own affairs as she wished him to believe. Experience taught him that while piety and humor seldom went together, piety and a shrewd eye to worldly advantage were by no means unfrequently to be found working very harmoniously side by side.
Somebody in Palazzo Acorari, Monsieur d'Antin felt