"Another of whom, Babbo?" asked Giacinta.
"Why, another honest man, with a head upon his shoulders, too, whom those priests across the Tiber have driven away!" replied Professor Rossano, angrily.
"Why did he leave the Vatican?" asked Silvio. "He would never tell me his story at Montefiano, but always said that you would remember it well enough."
"Remember it? Of course I remember it!" returned the professor. "At one time all Rome was talking of Monsignor Lelli. They declared at the Vatican that he had speculated and lent money on bad security from the funds intrusted to him; accused him, in short, of a carelessness almost equivalent to fraud. But everybody knew that he had been forced to use the money in the way it was used, and that he was afterwards disgraced when things went contrary to expectations. Che vuoi?"
Silvio said nothing. His thoughts were occupied with the letter he would write to Bianca Acorari that night, and he wondered how Don Agostino would find the means of giving it, or causing it to be safely delivered. It was a disappointment to him not to return to Montefiano on the morrow, but he could not but feel that Don Agostino was right in advising him to remain quietly in Rome. It would certainly not help matters were his only friend at Montefiano to be suddenly transferred to some other post; and Silvio knew enough of his world fully to realize how important a part intrigue and personal animosities played, not only at the Vatican, but also in every phase of Roman life.
The clocks were striking ten when they reached Palazzo Acorari, and though nobody thinks of going home at ten o'clock on a summer night in Rome, or anywhere else in Italy, Silvio Rossano accompanied his father and sister up the dimly lighted staircase to their apartment. The professor was anxious to continue the correction of his proofs, and Silvio was longing to begin his letter to Bianca Acorari.
Apparently, however, he had something else on his mind; for, after the professor had retired to his library, he followed Giacinta into her sitting-room, a little room opening off the drawing-room. Giacinta, who was tired after her walk, took off her hat and the light wrap she was wearing, and settled herself comfortably in an arm-chair; while Silvio, after lighting a cigarette, began to pace somewhat restlessly up and down the room. It was very evident that he had something to say, and Giacinta, who knew her brother's moods, sat waiting for it in silence.
"I am not going back to Montefiano with Don Agostino to-morrow," he began, presently.
"I did not know that you intended to do so," observed Giacinta.
"Of course I intended to do so!" Silvio returned. "However," he continued, "Don Agostino thinks it wiser that I should not return just yet, and I believe he is right. He is going to take a letter from me to Bianca."