CHAPTER XXIV
In the Cardinal's study Rinaldo, sitting on the very edge of a chair with his hat on his knees, was looking eagerly into the benevolent face of the prelate. The latter was expressing his thanks in the exquisite Italian of the Roman noble; his hand, with his big amethyst ring, fingered a malachite paper weight on the writing-table; his fine head, crowned with the red berretta, reposed against the crimson damask of his chair, for he was still languid from his recent indisposition. Rinaldo was really thinking less of what the Cardinal said than of the delightful picture he made—so different from the forlorn lay figure stuck into the property chair and draped in the red tablecloth that the artist felt as if he ought to do penance for all the calumnies on cardinals that he had persuaded the dealers to buy from him. Oh, if this beautiful old gentleman would let him paint his portrait, here in the sober grandeur of his proper surroundings, with the long sunbeam falling across his ring and sending its reflection up into his eyes. Was it altogether out of the question? Oh, of course. He was not distinguished enough to venture to suggest such a thing. What was this that the Cardinal was saying?
"So you see, Signor Goffi, that I have reason to be profoundly grateful to you. But for your charity and courage my poor friend might have had to remain yet longer in that terrible situation, and it is doubtful whether he should have survived further exposure. And I had encouraged him to go down there! Never can I forgive myself my thoughtlessness and selfishness. I grieve to say that he is rather seriously indisposed, but the doctor thinks that with care he will soon recover. I pray that it may be so. And now, tell me, is there any way in which I can serve you? To me it would be the greatest of pleasures—and old people can sometimes be useful to young ones, you know."
The charming urbanity of the tone, the courtesy which so delicately annihilated the distance between a great noble, a prince of the Church, and his unknown, middle-class self, touched Rinaldo deeply, and set his heart beating with hope as he considered how best to frame his request. The Cardinal saw that something was coming, and there was a gentle twinkle in his eyes as he looked at his visitor. The candid, handsome young face appealed to the inner spring of youth which life may seal but never dry up in certain pure warm hearts. Rinaldo felt the expressed goodwill as he might have become sensible of unexpected warmth in the light of a fixed star; it shed a pleasant radiance from very far away. Indeed they two could scarcely have been farther apart had they lived till now on separate planets. There was no merging of class and class in Rome, then. A prominent dignitary of the Church moved in his own sphere of half-mystic greatness, linked with all things sacred and regal. Except for a question of souls, he did not, in the ordinary affairs of life (unless he happened to have risen from the ranks himself), take any personal cognizance of those outside his circle, ecclesiastical, political, and social. Paolo Cestaldini had never heard of this young man till the night before, and apart from the fact that he had nice manners, and evidently belonged to the educated "mezzo ceto" had not the slightest clue by which to judge of his circumstances.
"Well," he said encouragingly, "what is it, my son? I see that your heart has a desire. If it be possible for me, it would be my felicity to satisfy it."
"Oh, Eminenza," Rinaldo cried, "there is indeed something, if it would not give you too great trouble to confer the greatest of benefits upon me. Not as a recompense for the little service I was able to render last night—any man would have done the same—and my friend, Sacchetti, helped me—but if, out of the great goodness of your heart, you would speak a word to Professor Bianchi, and tell him how wrong—" Rinaldo paused, alarmed at the sudden sternness of the prelate's expression.
"And what is it that I am to tell the distinguished Professor?" All the encouragement was gone from the Cardinal's tone as he asked the question. That an unknown youth should suggest criticism, actual condemnation of anything in the conduct of a great light of science, his own revered friend, appeared to him as a monstrous piece of impertinence.
But Rinaldo, conscious of the justice of his cause, caught boldly at the receding opportunity. "Your Eminence will pardon me when I explain what must sound so presumptuous," he said firmly. "The case is this: In the Professor's house there is a young girl whom I wish to marry. We love each other sincerely. She is good and beautiful, but very poor, an orphan whom the Professor's servant adopted and brought up. She helps the old woman to wait on him, and though her father was a gentleman and she has received a good education, she has for years past been contented to regard herself as Signor Bianchi's servant and to be so regarded by him. A short time ago he suddenly declared that he wished to marry her—"
"Marry her?" the Cardinal exclaimed, sitting up straight in his chair. "The Professor wanted to marry—a young girl? His servant? But what are you telling me, Signor Goffi? Are you sure?"
"Quite sure, Eminenza, strange as it may seem," Rinaldo replied. "Giannella had no wish to marry him—the poor child shrank with horror from the idea, and Mariuccia—that is the old woman—would not hear of it. But he persisted, and at last induced the most excellent Princess Santafede to interest herself on his behalf. Perhaps your Eminence does not know that her Excellency had the great kindness to send Giannella to the convent, where she received a beautiful education?"
The Cardinal bent his head. "I remember hearing something of it," he said. Then he smiled involuntarily at the recollection of Fra Tommaso's impassioned appeal about a little girl and a poor woman from Castel Gandolfo. He had quite forgotten the circumstance till now.
"Well," Rinaldo continued, "her gratitude to the Princess and the natural respect she felt for such a great and good lady made Giannella desirous of obeying her in all things possible, and when her Excellency told her that she should be only too thankful to find a disinterested and honorable protector like Signor Bianchi, and that it was clearly her duty to accept him—Giannella thought it might really be wrong to disobey."
The Cardinal gave an amused little groan. He had often warned his sister that, like many pious ladies, she was too eager to pilot young women into respectable homes. She had found husbands for three girls during the past year; one had proved fairly satisfactory, but the others had not turned out well. One poor thing had run away, no one knew whither, because her husband maltreated her, and the other was now working like a galley slave to support an idle man. And now he learned that, undeterred by these failures, she was planning another matrimonial mistake! Really, Teresa must be more prudent.
Rinaldo went on after a short pause, "That was before Giannella and I quite understood each other, Eminenza. Now I do not think she would ever consent, but it will grieve us both to make an enemy of Signor Bianchi, and Giannella wishes to have the approval of her Excellency. I asked the avvocato De Sanctis to do something, since it was after a visit from him that this strange caprice seemed to have taken possession of the Professor, but I have heard nothing more from him—and time passes and Giannella is in a very disagreeable situation in the Professor's house. Oh, Eminenza, I want so much to take my sposina to my own home and make her happy. I work hard, I have had good fortune of late—I can support her. Will you, of your great condescension, persuade Signor Bianchi that she is not for him, and make him acquiesce in our marriage—and also please obtain for us the consent of the Princess? Without that Giannella will not be content. We would bless you from our hearts and pray for you every time we went to Mass."
The Cardinal had looked very grave since the mention of De Sanctis. He recalled the pretty story of secret benevolence and ensuing good fortune which he had found so consoling to a Christian heart. He marshaled the facts in his mind and sorrowfully admitted to himself that they were not edifying. It would have been bad enough to learn that a distinguished, middle-aged man had lost his head about a pretty girl, a mere child in comparison with himself; but the Cardinal could have forgiven that. His long experience of human nature had taught him that no vagaries were too wild to become facts where the relations of man and woman were concerned. But there was something worse here, something so ugly that it pierced his heart with pain to recognize it for what it was—black mortal sin, covetousness, double dealing, an apparent intention to defraud a defenseless girl of her liberty and her property, since the goods of the wife would pass absolutely into the keeping of the husband unless a pre-matrimonial contract were made to secure them to her. And the man who was apparently planning this cruelty had long been his own friend, his comrade in the delights of high intellectual pursuits. The thing was horrible. He shuddered and covered his eyes with his hand for a moment, praying for light on his own duty in the matter.
Rinaldo saw that his statement had gone home, and he did not venture to interrupt the prelate's train of thought. At last the latter raised his head, and his face looked sad and tired. His first duty at least was clear to him already. The young people must not learn of the poor sinner's fault if it were possible to keep it from them; he would repent in time—had perhaps repented already, by the grace of God, and the future must not be made harder for him by publicity and scandal.
"Figlio mio," he said very gently, "this is a strange story, and although I am sure you believe it yourself, I must know a little more before I can, with any propriety, venture to advise the Signor Professore on such delicate and private affairs. You are quite right in wishing to reconcile him, and also my sister, to your marriage. The Princess is in villeggiatura at present, but I will communicate with her. As for Signor De Sanctis, he is my man of business, and I am expecting him this morning. With your permission," here the fine old head bent towards Rinaldo with exquisite courtesy, "I will speak to him of this matter, and I have little doubt that a harmonious settlement can be arrived at. You see, I am taking you on trust, my son. I hope that your intentions regarding this young girl are as upright as they appear; and also, if you will pardon an old man for speaking so frankly, that your own life is orderly and pious; that you practice our holy religion and keep away from bad companions. You must not be incensed at my suggesting such questions. Matrimony is a holy state, and many plunge into it all unprepared to fulfill its obligations."
"Eminenza," Rinaldo replied, "I thank you most sincerely for taking so much interest in my welfare, and I will answer your questions veraciously. As for my morals—well, I have been too poor to have any vices, and I was well brought up by good, kind parents, to whom I have not done sufficient honor, but whom I have tried not to grieve. I have worked hard, the masters at the Academy were satisfied with me, and I obtained the silver medal before I left. The president of the Boating Society will tell your Eminence that I never drink—except when I swallow too much of the Tiber. As to religion, I am afraid I have been forgetful sometimes. When I am very happy—or very unhappy—over a picture, I lose count of the days of the week and find myself on the church steps in my best clothes on Monday or Tuesday morning instead of Sunday. And oh, since I am telling your Eminence so much about myself, I must not forget a horrible crime that I have committed!" The Cardinal looked up anxiously. "I have circulated the most shocking calumnies, again and again, for money." He laughed ruefully, and the prelate's face became a study of grief and reproach. "Yes, the Eminenza has a right to look horrified. I had no excuse except hunger—and ignorance. I have painted cardinals, at least twenty of them, from a crippled lay figure with one leg, dressed in an old tablecloth, Heaven forgive me—the foreigners who bought them had never beheld a cardinal, except perhaps in the street, and I never had the honor of speaking to one till this morning. But I perceive my errors. I repent, I will sin no more."
The prelate was laughing too now, and Rinaldo went on more earnestly. "As for the Sunday Mass, Giannella will not let me forget that when we are married. She goes every day. Oh, if the Eminenza could only see her. She is so good, so beautiful—like Raffællo's youngest Madonna, the 'Gran Duca.'"
"Then the contemplation of her must correct your faults, my son," the Cardinal said. "Bad art is a sin for which even the Grand Penitentiary has no absolution. Ah, what is it?"
The chaplain had entered and stood waiting to speak. He glanced at Rinaldo disapprovingly. The unknown young man had been granted an audience of unprecedented length, and it was Don Ignazio's business to see that his revered superior should be spared fatigue, and also that respectable visitors should not be kept waiting too long before being admitted.
"Eminenza," he said, "the avvocato De Sanctis has been here for some time. I thought you could perhaps see him now? But I fear you are tired with so much talking already. I could ask him to call again."
Rinaldo had risen on the chaplain's entrance. "Your Eminence has been too kind," he protested. "I am ashamed of having trespassed so far on your goodness. I remove the inconvenience of my presence, with most humble thanks for all the Eminenza's condescension and kindness."
As he knelt to kiss the amethyst ring the Cardinal bent over to say in a low tone: "I will see what can be done, and will send for you in a day or two. Meanwhile, my son, we will observe silence on all this matter, and you must ask your fidanzata to do the same. I have good reasons."
"The Eminenza shall be obeyed," Rinaldo replied. As he was passing through the outer room, he encountered De Sanctis, who stopped to shake hands with him, saying, "I have been having a little conversation with the Signorina Brockmann and that old woman. Go to them, Signor Goffi, I am sure they want you. Incidentally I may say that you will find them prepared to answer all the questions with which you peppered me the other day. Diascoci, I think it is lucky for Bianchi that he is ill in bed, where you cannot get at him when you are satisfied as to the cause of his alarming dementia. Arrivederci. Yes, Don Ignazio, here I come." This to the chaplain, who was beckoning to him from a farther doorway.
The study was empty when De Sanctis was ushered into it and he sat down to wait for his patron. In ten minutes or so the latter returned. "I have been to the Professor's room," the Cardinal explained when the first greetings were over. "I wished to see for myself how he was going on and to ascertain whether he would be equal to a little conversation to-day."
"I trust he is quite convalescent, Eminenza?" De Sanctis replied. "I am deeply sorry to learn of his accident. I had no idea—"
But the Cardinal held up his hand for silence, and the lawyer got his lecture in stern, unsparing words, to which he listened with becoming humility and an appearance of such true contrition that the prelate softened, relented, and finally took him back into grace.
Something had wrought a change in De Sanctis's mood. To his own surprise he found himself inclined to admit that his desertion of the absent-minded Professor the day before was rather a shabby action. In consequence he was regretfully but logically obliged to lay aside his intention of discrediting the other man in the Cardinal's estimation. His natural curiosity, however, was by no means subdued, and he longed to know why Goffi had remained an hour shut up with the prelate in his study, and what, besides a mere polite acknowledgment of the artist's timely help, could have furnished the matter of the interview. The Cardinal himself led the conversation in the desired direction.
"Signor Goffi has just left me," he said, "and he told me that he called upon you the other day, Guglielmo. Since he spoke frankly about the object of his visit, I hope you will not consider me indiscreet if I ask you to do the same. He related a rather strange story. Should you feel justified in telling me what you know about it?"
"I think so, Eminenza," De Sanctis replied, "the Signorina Brockmann is the person chiefly concerned, and she seems to be in need of help and advice, which have failed her where she had a right to expect them. I am betraying no confidence in telling your Eminence that she has only this moment, and in this house, learned of her inheritance. For some unexplained reason Professor Bianchi has abstained from informing her of it."
"Why did you not tell her yourself, at the time?" the Cardinal inquired.
"The Professor was unwilling that I should speak to her on the subject," said the lawyer. "He described her as rather a hysterical girl. He feared the sudden excitement might be too much for her nerves, and preferred to communicate the good news gently and in private."
The Cardinal was silent for a moment. Then he asked, "Are you sure that she was not told anything? What led you to speak to her about it now?"
Then De Sanctis told him of his own slowly-awakened suspicions, of Rinaldo's appeal and evident ignorance of the facts, which Giannella would certainly have confided to him had she been in possession of them, and finally he described Mariuccia's recent attack on him and Giannella's intense emotion when she learned what had first brought him to Professor Bianchi's house. All showed conclusively that Bianchi had kept the matter to himself, together with the cash for which the girl had signed a receipt in the lawyer's presence.
When he had ended, the Cardinal asked one question more. "Is it true that Bianchi is trying to marry the girl?"
"So Mariuccia and Goffi affirm," replied the other. And for the life of him he could not help adding, "He appears very anxious to do so at once. This is August—and she will be of age on the eighth of September."
"Her money would become her husband's in any case, would it not?" the Cardinal inquired.
"It could be secured to her in the marriage contract if her friends so wished," was the reply. "The usual proceeding is to set apart a certain portion of the dowry for the wife's own use, while the remainder comes under the jurisdiction of the husband, to be applied to family expenses in common."
"I know," said the Cardinal. "But if no agreement to this effect were made before marriage, all monies she then possessed, knowingly or unknowingly, would pass unconditionally to her husband?" The tone implied a desire to have the statement contradicted.
"They would pass unconditionally to her husband," De Sanctis repeated. Then he began to study the pattern of the carpet, for the Cardinal was leaning his head on his hand and evidently thinking deeply. At last he looked up, saying, "In speaking to the girl did you comment on the Professor's silence?"
"I touched on it, Eminenza, but she appeared to take no notice, and nothing more was said on that subject."
"That is well," said the Cardinal; "and now, my son, since we are on the question of marriages, what do you think of that young Goffi? He struck me as an amiable, honest fellow. Would he make a good husband for this poor child? Do you know anything about him?"
"I too was pleased with him, Eminenza," replied De Sanctis heartily, "and I took the trouble to make inquiries. He has an excellent record, and a small property of his own. Giannella could not do better than marry him."
"And Giannella herself—is she all he thinks her?" The Cardinal put the question with a doubtful smile. "These little females are sadly deceptive sometimes, Guglielmo mio." The speaker sighed over the general shortcomings of Eve's degenerate daughters.
But the lawyer replied with an earnestness which was most unusual for him, "I believe she is really as good as she is pretty, Eminenza, and one cannot say more than that. Only her scruples have caused her and Goffi some unhappiness. The eccelentissima Principessa, who knew nothing of the other suitor, having told her that she ought to marry Bianchi, she imagined it might be criminal to disobey. She has a good heart. Just now, when she learned from me that she possessed this little fortune, what do you suppose was her first thought? To reward that cross old woman for taking care of her. She nearly went mad with joy when she found she could do that. Oh, she will make a good wife, that girl."
"I am rejoiced to hear it," said the Cardinal; "as I have told you before, Guglielmo, you should find such another for yourself. To live alone is not good for a young man in the world. It either exposes him to temptation—or else it hardens his heart. I have sometimes feared, my son, that it might be having the latter effect upon you. I should rejoice to know that you were happily married."
"Eminenza," replied De Sanctis, smiling, "I perceive that matchmaking runs in your illustrious family. I will remember your warning, and try to find time to fall in love. Meanwhile, in order to avoid any hardening of heart, shall I do what I can to arrange the affairs of these devoted young people? Signor Bianchi being unable at this moment to offer obstruction—"
"Gently, gently," the Cardinal interrupted. "We must not overlook him altogether, that would be discourteous. And he should have an opportunity of explaining himself. Perhaps he was only planning a pleasant surprise for his young friend on her birthday?"
"Or on the day she was to become his wife?" suggested De Sanctis sarcastically. "Oh, Eminenza, the casuistries of your charity are as unscrupulous as any of those we poor disciples of the law are accused of."
The Cardinal smiled half apologetically as he replied, "Charity is rather an abnormal creature, my dear Guglielmo. She often has to close her eyes to find her way. When she opens them again she generally beholds that which she desired to see. So for the present we will stand aside and keep silence as to our opinion of our neighbor's conduct—and Charity perhaps will whisper something in his ear. Then when she beckons to us to approach and reckon with him we may find—that we were mistaken all along, that his intentions were neither dishonest nor unkind, but only a little unwise. That will give us all great pleasure, will it not?"
"I am conquered," declared De Sanctis. "Anything that gives you pleasure, Eminenza, will certainly do so to me. You are the best argument for Christianity that I ever met. Let me know, I pray, when the marriage contract is required. It will be interesting to draw it up—and to make the kind, candid Professor Bianchi witness it."
"Go away. You are incorrigible," laughed the Cardinal. And the lawyer bowed himself out.