"Accidente!" ejaculated Don Agostino.
"Sicuro!" continued Sor Beppe. "I suspect it, but I have no means of proving it. One thing is certain, and that is, that the individual who received the rents has never presented himself in the flesh at Montefiano; whereas the Abbé Roux has presented himself very frequently. There is not a metre of land that he has not been over—not a farm or a cottage that he has not visited, inside and out—and always in the name of their excellencies, si capisce—so what could anybody say?"
Don Agostino remained silent for a moment.
"But you have appealed to the princess," he asked, presently, "and perhaps to Donna Bianca? It is true that she has no voice in the management of her affairs as yet, but she is the padrona, when all is said and done."
"Of course I have appealed to the princess," replied Fontana. "I saw her personally, but the priest was always with her, listening to every word I said. She was very affable, very sympathetic; but, as she explained, the business matters of the administration lay in other hands than her own. She was merely acting in the interests of the Principessina Bianca, and could only take the advice of those who understood business matters better than she did herself. She regretted the present affair, oh, very much; but it was evident that I was not in accord with the administration of Casa Acorari, and therefore she could not do otherwise than confirm my dismissal from the post of fattore at Montefiano."
"And the principessina, Donna Bianca?" said Don Agostino, quickly.
Sor Beppe made an expressive gesture with both hands. "The principessina," he repeated; "ma che vuole? The principessina, poveretta, is like a fly in a spider's web. I have seen her half a dozen times, but never to speak to, except a few words of respect. The principessina? Ah, no! As your reverence says, she has no voice in the management of her own affairs, none at all. And she never will have any, for before she is of age they will marry her to her uncle! Of course he is not her uncle really, but it is much the same."
Don Agostino drew his chair closer to the other, and at the same time poured out another glass of wine.
"Ah," he said, "so you believe that gossip? I had heard it, but it seemed incredible that it should be anything else but gossip."
"Do I believe it!" exclaimed Fontana. "Of course I believe it! My daughter Concetta works at the castle, and they all—all the household—talk of it. It seems that there is somebody else whom the poor child wants to marry—the son of some professor in Rome; but she will never be allowed to marry him. She will marry the principessa's brother; you will see."