The violoncello and the piano were jesting together on a pastoral theme, full of caresses and of simple and lively tenderness. Maria could not refrain from murmuring, “Dio! Poor woman!” and her husband could not refrain from following, on Jeanne’s face, the painful words her companion was speaking to the sound of this tender and lively music. He watched the young man’s face also, who, while speaking to the lady, often looked towards him as if to express his grief and to ask for advice. Jeanne listened to him, her eyes fixed on the ground. When he had finished she raised to the Selvas those great eyes of hers, so full of pitiful distress. She looked from one to the other saying mutely, involuntarily, “You know?” The sad eyes of both husband and wife replied, “Yes, we know!” There came a loud outburst of joyous music. Maria took advantage of this to murmur to her husband:
“Do you think he told her what he said about wishing to die in Rome?”
Her husband answered that it would be best for her to know, that he hoped he had told her. Jeanne let her gaze rest on the door whence came the sound of the music. She waited a moment, and then signed to the Selvas to approach. She said, her voice quite firm, that she felt the Senator should have informed them, that she did not understand why he had appealed to her. They must now arrange what was to be done.
The music ceased. They could hear Carlino and Chieco talking. Di Leynì, who occupied bachelor’s quarters on the Sant’ Onofrio hillside, offered them eagerly. But what about the warrant? What if they were only waiting to serve it until Benedetto should have left the Senator’s house?
Jeanne calmly denied the possibility of an arrest. The Selvas looked at her, full of admiration for that forced calm. For some time past Jeanne had suspected that they were acquainted with Benedetto’s real name. Was it then possible that Noemi (though, indeed, she had admonished her often enough) should never have allowed a word to escape her? A moment before, when they had exchanged those silent and sorrowful glances, the Selvas and Jeanne had understood one another, Giovanni and his wife saw that if Jeanne were thus heroically controlling herself it was not on their account, but on di Leynì’s account. And now, after Giovanni’s words, di Leynì himself knew everything! It seemed to them they had almost been guilty of treason.
They were convinced that Jeanne must have reasons of which they were ignorant for saying she did not believe in the possibility of an arrest. They remarked that Benedetto might now accept their proffered hospitality. Jeanne was quick to remind them that Benedetto himself had expressed a desire, and that the Sant’ Onofrio hillside would seem more suitable than the Via Arenula as the residence of an invalid who needed quiet. Nevertheless, it was her opinion that they could not possibly allow him to be moved without the doctor’s express permission. All were of one mind on this point. The Selvas charged di Leynì to inform the Senator that Benedetto’s friends would find him another place of refuge, but only on condition that the physician in attendance gave a written permission to remove him. While Giovanni was talking, a noisy allegro burst from the piano in the next room, an allegro all sobs and cries. He ceased speaking, not wishing to raise his voice too high, and let the rush of sad music pass. And sad was the word which his eyes and the young man’s eyes uttered to each other, while their lips were silent.
Di Leynì had no time to lose, and so took his leave. He disliked going alone; he could have wished to appear before the Senator with some one of Benedetto’s friends whose presence would intimidate him a little, for his conduct was inexplicable.
Giovanni muttered something about the vice-presidency of the Senate, to which that old man aspired, and which he would not obtain. It is a bitter grief to discover such sordid motives where they are least expected! Maria rose and offered to accompany di Leynì.
“You will stay?” Jeanne asked Giovanni anxiously. Her tone said, “You must stay!” Selva said that he had, indeed, intended to remain, and the expression of his voice, of his face, was such as to acquaint Jeanne with the fact that sad words, not yet spoken, were weighing on his heart. Oh! thought Jeanne, what if Chieco should leave now, and Carlino call? Then it would not be possible for us to speak together! For she also had something to say to Selva. She must repeat the Minister’s discourse to him. The two musicians had once more ceased playing, and were talking. Jeanne knocked softly on the door, and blew a few gay words against it:
“Bravi! Have you finished already?”