“No Roman lease holds in case of sale,” said Beppino. “You will find that clause in your contract. You will see I am right. Some time ago Sua Santita requested such religious orders as had no house in Rome to establish one here. During the Anno Santo many have acted on the hint and bought property in Rome. I heard my grandfather say there were some French monks looking out for a place near the Vatican. This is just the sort of thing that would suit them.”
Was not that a thunder clap? Characteristic too that Beppino, the astute Roman, should first suspect it. When J. came home from the studio and heard of the priests’ visit, he said: “Beppino is right; the Palazzo Rusticucci will be transformed into a monastery. They have already turned Mr. Vedder out of his studio after twenty years; we shall be the next to go.”
I can’t and won’t believe that this may be our last Easter here. Just as terrace and house have grown to fit us like soul and body, to be turned out into the bare, ugly world of hotels,—impossible!
The other day when I was at the studio J. told me that in consequence of the disappearance of ten francs he had finally decided to part with Pietro. He has often arrived at this decision before, but the creature, with a sort of uncanny second sight, always disarms him just in time by some act of faithfulness, some pretty attention; for Pietro is one of those Italians with a real genius for service. I happened to be at the studio when he applied to J. for the place and overheard their conversation.
“Signorino,” Pietro began, “you are my unique hope; do not abandon me, the poor disgraziato you have befriended so long: I regard you as my father.” (Pietro is at least twenty years older than J.)
“Where have you been all this time?” J. asked.
“Signorino, it is necessary for me to tell you the truth, or some unsympathetic person might do so: I have been in prison, though I am quite innocent.”
“What were you charged with?”
“It was that affair with Fagiolo the model; you perhaps remember.”
“The time you bit Fagiolo in the leg and gave him such a coltellata (stab) that he had to be sent to San Giacomo (the hospital)? I remember.”