It was Saturday. For several days Jeanne had not slept and had eaten little. On Tuesday evening she had learned from Signora Albacina of the plot against Piero, and how her husband, the Under-Secretary of State, had been invited by the Minister to join him at the Ministry of the Interior, where an interview was to take place with this man so greatly feared and hated at the court of the Sovereign Pontiff, by that non-concessionist faction which wished to rule at the Vatican. She hastened to Noemi, got her to write the letter, and then telephoned to a young secretary, her friend and admirer, begging him to come to the Grand Hôtel. She charged him to find some one to deliver the letter, for it was probably too late to send it to Villa Mayda. She knew also, for Noemi had told her so, that Piero was feverish. She determined to send her carriage to wait for him at the door of the Ministry of the Interior, with the footman who had known Maironi at Villa Diedo. It was imprudent, but what did it matter? Nothing mattered save that dear life. The announcement of the death of Marchesa Nene had reached her that very evening by the last post. She wished Piero to have it immediately, that he might at once pray for the poor dead woman. It was strange, but nevertheless true, that she could merge herself in him, forget herself, her own incredulity, could feel that which he with his faith must feel and desire. That same night the footman gave her an account of his errand. He described Maironi as a ghost, a corpse. She was in despair. She knew of the conflict between Professor Mayda and his daughter-in-law, knew the Professor was often called away from Rome; she considered him a great surgeon, but not a great doctor; she believed that daring these absences the young lady would take no care of the sick man, would show him no attentions. And she also knew about the three days the Director-General had allowed him. Oh! it was not possible to leave Piero at Villa Mayda! He must be removed! A hiding-place must be found, where neither the police nor the carabinieri would be able to unearth him; where he would be well nursed, have every attention, and be in the hands of a skilful physician.
She did not think of consulting the Selvas. Neither did she communicate to Noemi her intention of sending the carriage to the Ministry of the Interior. It did occur to her to propose that they take Piero to their house, but the idea did not please her; the terms upon which Piero and Giovanni Selva stood were too well known for his house to be a safe hiding-place. Within this prudent consideration lurked a secret jealousy of Noemi, a jealousy of a special nature, neither violent nor burning, for Noemi did not love Piero with a love like hers, but perhaps—for this very reason—even more painful, because she understood that Piero might accept Noemi’s mystic sentiment; because she herself was incapable of such a sentiment, and because she had no just cause of complaint against her friend, no reason to reproach her, to give way to this feeling.
Another possible hiding-place occurred to her, the house of an elderly senator with whom she was acquainted, and who had been an intimate friend of her father’s. He was very religious, and full of affectionate admiration for Maironi. She held fast to this idea. But if she intended appealing to the Senator, asking of him no less a favour than to take into his house a sick man threatened with arrest, she must at least offer some explanation of her zeal. She did not figure among Piero’s disciples, and the Senator was in complete ignorance of the past. But he knew Noemi, for he was the old gentleman with the white hair and the red face who had been present at the meeting in Via della Vite, and Noemi and he often met in the “Catacombs.” Jeanne wrote to him at once, stating that she did so in the name of her friend Noemi, who did not dare to come forward. She described the state of Maironi’s health, and the circumstances which, for this reason, rendered it advisable to remove him from Villa Mayda; she did not, however, allude to the danger of arrest. She explained her friend’s request to him, and added that the invalid’s condition rendered the matter most urgent. Should the Senator consent, she begged him to give the bearer of her note his card, with a word or two of invitation for Maironi. She ended by asking him to grant her an interview at the Senate sometime during the day, and by requesting him, in the meantime, not to mention the matter to any one. Then she wrote to Noemi, informing her of what she had done in her name, and charging her to persuade her brother-in-law—in case the Senator sent his card—to take a carriage and carry the invitation to Villa Mayda at once. He must persuade Maironi to accept the offer, and the Professor to allow him to go, laying before them the political reasons for taking this step. When she had written these two letters she had an attack of prostration, with symptoms of such a serious nature that the maid was alarmed. She did not, however, call Carlino, for Jeanne found strength to forbid this absolutely, but she sent for the doctor without telling her mistress she had done so. The doctor himself was alarmed. During his visits to Carlino he had noticed that she was highly strung, but he had never before seen her in such a condition. She was livid, perfectly stiff, and unable to speak. The attack lasted until six o’clock in the morning, the first sign of improvement being when Jeanne inquired what time it was. The maid, accustomed to these attacks whispered to the doctor: “It is passing,” and then said aloud:
“Six o’clock, Signora.”
The words seemed to have a miraculous effect. Jeanne, whom they had placed on the bed without undressing her, sat up, rather dazed it is true, but quite mistress of her limbs and her voice. She inquired for Carlino immediately and anxiously. Carlino was asleep; he had not heard anything, and knew nothing of the attack. She breathed more freely, and said to the doctor, with a smile:
“Now I shall drive you away.”
She was not satisfied until the doctor had departed. Then the maid prepared to undress her, whereupon Jeanne first called her a stupid, and then apologised almost tearfully.
“Oh!” said the girl. “You wish to send off those letters first! Yes, yes, do send them off, those horrid letters which did you so much harm!”
Jeanne gave her a kiss. The girl adored her, and she herself was fond of her, treating her sometimes like a dear, silly little sister.
She sealed the two letters, sent the maid to call the footman, and gave him his instructions. He was to take a cab and drive to senator——‘s house, 40 Via della Polveriera, present the letter addressed to the Senator, and wait for an answer. If they told him there was no answer he was to return to the Grand Hôtel and report; but if the Senator gave him a note, he was to take it to Casa Selva, in Via Arenula, with the other letter. An hour later the servant returned, and reported that he had executed the orders. Two hours later a note from the Senator announced to Jeanne that Benedetto was already at his house. Later on in the forenoon Noemi came. Jeanne was sleeping at last. Noemi waited for her to awake, and then told her that her brother-in-law had gone to Villa Mayda without delay. He had not found the Professor, who had left for Naples the night before at half-past twelve. Maironi had accepted the Senator’s invitation at once. Knowing her temperament, Giovanni had judged it wiser not to let young Signora Mayda know what was going on. He had found Maironi very weak, not feverish, however, so he felt sure the drive from the Aventine to Via della Polveriera had not harmed him. Besides, that kind gardener, his eyes full of tears, had wrapped him up warmly in a heavy blanket. Perhaps Jeanne was mistaken, but it seemed to her that although Noemi displayed much interest in speaking of Piero, much consideration for Jeanne’s feelings, she spoke to her in a tone differing from her former tone; as a friend who has not changed her language, but whose heart has become estranged. Had she perhaps wished Piero to go to Casa Selva? Probably.