"You cannot marry without my consent before you are of age," the princess returned, quickly.
Bianca laughed—a hard little laugh.
"Without your consent, and that of Monsieur l'Abbé Roux," she replied. "Oh, but I understand that very well. It is the reason why I am here. No? A proposal of marriage was made to you for me, and you—you and Monsieur l'Abbé—refused your consent. Why?"
Princess Montefiano gazed at her step-daughter with an amazement nearly amounting to stupefaction. She had thought Bianca apathetic, perhaps even sullen, and had believed that she would probably never speak of her own accord about her love for Silvio Rossano. She had certainly not calculated upon her suddenly assuming an aggressive attitude, and that it was an aggressive attitude a glance at the girl's face, and the quiet, determined tone of her voice, showed clearly enough.
For a moment or two the princess remained silent, astonishment and indignation striving for mastery in her mind. It was not long before indignation triumphed. The absolute disregard which Bianca had shown for all the convenances had been bad enough; the manner in which she had allowed herself to become entangled in a love-affair, to have words of love spoken to her—and more than words, if Philippe was to be believed—by the son of an infidel professor, as though she had been some girl of the borghesia, was a horrible and an unheard-of thing. Nevertheless, nothing, at least in Princess Montefiano's eyes, was so culpable as want of submission to authority. All that intolerance of disobedience and defiance, which would have made the princess so admirable a mother-superior, arose within her at Bianca's words.
"I refused it—yes," she said, curtly. "We need not discuss the matter, Bianca. I do not intend to reprove you for your want of confidence in me, nor for your conduct. Your conscience should tell you how wrong, how—I must use the term—immodest that conduct has been. Yes; the proposal which the Professor Rossano had the insolence to make on behalf of his son was refused by me, and that is enough. In the mean time, you wish to know how long we remain here at Montefiano. The question is easily answered. You will remain here as long as I consider it fit that you should do so. You must learn to submit your will to those whom God has placed in authority over you. I shall certainly not shrink from doing what I know to be my duty towards you, although you have shown me very plainly that it is likely to be a thankless task. You have never given me your confidence, Bianca, never—not even when you were a child."
The defiant look on Bianca's face melted suddenly.
"It was not my fault," she said, slowly; "at least, I do not think it was my fault. I wanted to give it to you so often; but you did not love me, even when I was a child. You did your duty by me, but duty is not love; I understood that."
The princess knitted her brows, as though she were considering the point.
"That is nonsense," she said, presently. "The duty of a parent to a child, and of a child to a parent, is the same as love; and though I am not your mother, I have always tried to behave towards you as though you were my own child."