Silvio Rossano had quite made up his mind that some days must in all probability elapse before Don Agostino might be able to find a safe opportunity of conveying the letter and ring he had intrusted to him to Bianca. When, therefore, he found on his table, on returning to Palazzo Acorari as usual for breakfast, a notice from the post-office informing him that a registered packet addressed to him was lying at the central office, he did not suppose for a moment that the said packet had come from Montefiano. Indeed, it was not until late in the afternoon that he went to San Silvestro in order to get the packet, as he had some work to do at home which he was anxious to complete. His heart gave a sudden leap when he recognized Don Agostino's handwriting on the registered envelope. The arcade running round the court-yard and garden of palms at San Silvestro, thronged as it was with people asking for their correspondence at the poste-restante, with soldiers and men of business, priests and peasants, was certainly not the place to investigate the contents of Don Agostino's missive, which would scarcely have been registered had the contents not been important.
Silvio hurried out of the building, and, crossing the Corso, plunged into the comparative quiet of the little side streets behind Montecitorio, where he eagerly tore open the sealed envelope. There were only a few lines written by Don Agostino himself, and Silvio, hastily glancing at them, gathered that he had had an opportunity of sending the letter and ring to Bianca Acorari by a safe hand, and that her reply was enclosed. He added that he should write more fully in a day or two, by which time he believed he should have something of importance to communicate.
Bianca's letter, too, was short and hastily written in pencil on a half-sheet of paper that Silvio recognized as having been torn from his own lengthy epistle to her. Brief as this letter was, however, it told him much that he was longing to know, and, indeed, repeated Bianca's words to him in the garden of the Villa Acorari, with which she had vowed that she would marry nobody if she did not marry him. But what set his mind at ease more than anything else was her assurance that means of communication were open to them. Bianca did not explain what these means were, but told him that she would write him a long letter the following day, and that he also could continue to write to her under cover to Monsignor Lelli, as there was now no danger of his letters being intercepted. This, at least, was a comforting piece of news, and Silvio wondered how it had come about that Don Agostino had been able to so quickly find the necessary channel of communication. It was scarcely likely, he reflected, that Don Agostino would venture to go himself to the castle at Montefiano after having been seen by Monsieur d'Antin in his company.
He returned to Palazzo Acorari full of hope, and in better spirits than he had been for many a day. The uncertainty of the last few weeks had begun to tell upon him; and at the same time his complete separation from Bianca Acorari had only increased his love, and had made him more determined than ever to defeat the machinations of those who were trying to break down Bianca's love for him. The first thing to be done was to write to Bianca. She would be expecting to hear from him again, and to know that he had received her pencilled note safely. Silvio shut himself in his room and proceeded to write an epistle longer, if anything, than that he had confided to Don Agostino. The contents were much the same as the contents of other love-letters, and scarcely likely to be of interest to any one except himself and the person to whom they were addressed. Of course, he longed to see her again; and he implored her not to lose any opportunity of allowing him to do so that could be seized upon without risk to herself. He could always, he explained to her, come to Montefiano at any moment, and Monsignor Lelli doubtless would arrange that his presence in the place should be unsuspected.
It was useless, he felt, to attempt to form a plan, until he should have heard again from her and from Don Agostino. He read the latter's note again and again with great attention. It was evident that Don Agostino had something more to communicate than he was able at that moment to write. No doubt he was making sure of his ground before summoning Silvio to Montefiano. In any case, there was nothing to do but to wait patiently for further light upon the situation; and in the mean time he might do more harm than good by suggesting any one of the expedients for obtaining another meeting with Bianca that came into his head.
His letter written, he sought Giacinta's counsel as usual, and told her of what that day's post had brought to him. Giacinta was duly sympathetic. She had, indeed, long ago recognized that Silvio's passion for Bianca Acorari was not to be diminished by any amount of practical reasoning as to its folly. Perhaps the discovery that Monsignor Lelli, whom her father held in such high esteem, not only approved of Silvio's love for Donna Bianca, but had also undertaken to help him, so far as he might be able, to remove the difficulties that stood in the way of his marrying her, had caused Giacinta to take a less pessimistic view of her brother's infatuation; at any rate, since Monsignor Lelli's visit she had regarded the matter as one which must take its course, for better or for worse, since not only was there no apparent likelihood of Silvio being disheartened by the obstacles in his way, but it seemed that Donna Bianca Acorari also knew her own mind, and had no intention of allowing others to alter it for her.
The professor, too, had become decidedly less cynical on the subject of his son's matrimonial aspirations since his conversation with Monsignor Lelli. To be sure, he did not encourage Giacinta to talk about it; and when she attempted to do so, he put the whole question quietly but decidedly away from him, as he did any question threatening to lead to social unpleasantness in private life. But Giacinta realized that her father also had modified his views as to the folly of Silvio's devotion to a girl whom he had seen only a few times in his life; and that, though he did not intend to move any further in the affair than he had already done, he was not so actively opposed to it as he had at first shown himself to be.
Giacinta had always been doubtful as to whether Bianca Acorari would have sufficient force of character to hold out against the pressure that would certainly be brought to bear upon her in order to make her relinquish all idea of becoming Silvio's wife. It was quite natural that Silvio himself should entertain no doubts on the subject; but then he was in love with Bianca, and she, Giacinta, was not so. But such passages as Silvio chose to read to her from the brief note he had that day received from Bianca finally removed all fears from her mind lest her brother might be exposed to the disappointment and mortification of finding that Donna Bianca had yielded to the influences by which she was surrounded.
"You see, Giacinta," Silvio said, triumphantly, "I was right. I have always told you that Bianca would never give way. And now, after being shut up in that dreary hole for nearly six weeks, she takes the first opportunity of repeating the promises she made to me at the Villa Acorari. If she has to wait three years to marry me, ebbene, she will wait three years—and nothing that they can say or do to her in the mean time will make the slightest difference. Oh, I know what you will say—that it is impossible to know what a person's character may be whom one has only seen a few times, and only talked to once. But sometimes two people know each other's character by instinct, by—by—oh, well, by something or other, though God knows what the something is."
Giacinta laughed. "There may be a scientific explanation of the phenomenon," she remarked; "perhaps Babbo will find one. No, Silvio," she continued, more gravely, "I confess I seem to have underrated Donna Bianca's character. She is apparently as much in earnest as you are, and I am glad she is so. It is at least a sign that, if you both succeed in attaining your object, you should be happy together, and your happiness is all that concerns me, Silvio mio."