“I would not advise you to go alone,” Signora Albacina concluded, smiling. “The ushers saw many things in the times of certain ministers and their deputies! But I am going with you, and I am well known at the Ministry of the Interior! Besides, the things that used to happen do not happen now!”
The Right Honourable Albacina was with the Minister. A deputy, who had just been requested to enter, recognised Donna Rosetta, and offered to announce her to her husband. He had only a word or two to say, and would come out at once. Indeed, in about five minutes the deputy reappeared with Albacina, who begged Jeanne to enter the Minister’s room with him. The two ladies had not expected this, and Donna Rosetta asked her husband if it were not he himself who wished to speak with Jeanne. His Excellency did not allow himself to be disturbed for so little; he dismissed his wife in a summary manner, and hurried Signora Dessalle, taken by surprise, into the Minister’s presence. When he presented her to his superior, she was embarrassed and almost angry.
The Minister received her with the most respectful courtesy, with the manner of a stern man, who honours woman, but keeps her at a distance. He had known the banker Dessalle, Jeanne’s father, and immediately spoke of him:
“A man,” he said, “who had much gold in his coffers, but the purest gold of all in his conscience!” He added that the memory of this man had encouraged him to speak with her about a very delicate matter. When he had spoken those words, or rather while he was speaking them, Jeanne felt sure that this man knew the past. She could not refrain from glancing stealthily at the Under-Secretary. She read the same knowledge in his eyes, but the Under-Secretary’s expression troubled her and irritated her, while the Minister’s gaze seemed to open a paternal heart to her. The Minister introduced the topic by speaking of Giovanni Selva, whom he freely praised. He expressed regret that he had no personal acquaintance with him. He said he was aware that Jeanne was a friend of the Selvas. He must beg her to persuade her friends to undertake a most important mission to another person. And then he spoke of Maironi, always careful to place the Selvas between Maironi and Jeanne, and careful to avoid allusion to any possible direct communication between them. Jeanne listened, striving to pay close attention to his words, to prepare a prudent and pertinent answer, and ever conscious of the discomfort the presence of this little Mephistopheles of an Albacina caused her. The Minister’s discourse did not prove to be what she had expected; more favourable perhaps, but more embarrassing. He told her he was not speaking as the Minister, but as a friend; that he did not wish to hide things from her; that certain shadows had had absolutely no substance; that neither ministers, nor magistrates, nor police-agents, had any right to interfere with Signor Maironi, who was perfectly free to do as he liked, and had nothing to fear from the laws of his country. He was, he said, convinced of the inanity of certain accusations which had been brought against him out of religious animosity. He felt much sympathy for Signor Maironi’s religious views, and much esteem for his proposed apostolate, but Signor Selva must really convince him of the wisdom of leaving Rome for some time at least, and this in the interest of his apostolate itself; for his religious antagonists in Rome were waging war against him so violently, dealing him such slanderous blows, that very soon he must inevitably find himself entirely without disciples. Here the Minister, thinking to please Jeanne, assured her of his own interest in religion. What a tragic illusion! she thought, bitterly. He trusted that in the near future Signor Maironi would be able to exert his influence freely in a very high place; there were many signs of an imminent transformation, of an imminent misfortune to befall the non-concessionists; but, for the moment, it would be more prudent for him to disappear. This was the friendly but pressing advice which they desired to convey to him through his distinguished friend. Would Signora Dessalle consent to speak to that distinguished friend?
Jeanne trembled. Could she trust him? Would she be revealing things which perhaps these two did not know, and were trying to find out from her? Involuntarily she glanced at the Undersecretary, and her eyes spoke so plainly that he could not avoid taking a decisive step.
“Signora,” he said, with his habitual sarcastic smile, “I see that you do not want rue here. My presence is not necessary, and I will go, in obedience to your wish; it is a just wish, and one easily explained.”
Jeanne blushed, and he noticed it, and was pleased at having succeeded in wounding her by the covert allusion contained in his last words, and, above all, in his malicious smile.
“Nevertheless,” he added, still smiling in the same way, “I cannot leave without assuring you, on my honour, that my wife is a most loyal friend to you; that she has never uttered an indiscreet word to me concerning you, as I myself have never been guilty of indiscretion when discussing the same subject with my wife.”
Having thus taken his revenge, the little man departed, leaving Jeanne greatly agitated. Good God! Did they really intend to oblige her to speak to Piero? Did they suppose she saw him? Did these men also believe that Piero’s saintliness was a lie? By an effort she composed herself, seeking help in the Minister’s grave, sad, and respectful gaze.
“I will speak to Signor Giovanni” she said. “But I believe,” she added hesitatingly, “that Signor Maironi is ill, and not able to travel.”