"For various reasons," returned Silvio, suppressing an inclination to laugh. "Giacinta knows more about Casa Montefiano than any of us," he continued. "I told her some time ago how it was with me, and she has been making some inquiries. It appears that there is a priest—the Abbé Roux, they call him—"
"May the devil take him!" interrupted the professor. "He puts his nose everywhere. When we took this apartment the princess had agreed to make certain alterations, but the porter told my lawyer that the Abbé Roux—well, never mind!—what were you going to say about him, Silvio?"
"Only that, as you say, he puts his foot everywhere. Giacinta has heard that neither the princess nor he really wish Donna Bianca to marry at all."
"Which means to say that the priest does not wish it, for some reasons of his own—money reasons, probably. The princess will do what he tells her to do, of course."
"Of course," repeated Silvio, dryly.
"And do you mean me to go and bribe the Abbé Roux?" asked the professor, "for I shall most decidedly do nothing of the kind!"
"Oh, not at all!" returned Silvio, quietly; "I tell you, it does not matter, Babbo. Bianca and I shall wait three years, unless we get tired of waiting and run away with each other before. We could be married in a church, you know, and the legal marriage might be postponed till she was of age, but I think it would be better to wait the three years."
"Diamine!" ejaculated the professor, "but you seem to be very certain of your arrangements, figlio mio, and of the girl."
Silvio nodded. "You see," he said, "I don't want to put her in any false position, and if we ran away with each other before she is of age, people would say I had done it in order eventually to get her money. Besides, in the course of three years she will have ample time to be quite sure that she has not made a mistake," added Silvio, with a smile.
The professor looked at him. "Yes," he said, "you are quite right, but not many young men would be so thoughtful or so confiding. In the mean time, you think—Giacinta thinks there is no chance of your being allowed to pay your addresses to Donna Bianca Acorari, because, I suppose, you would not be considered well-born enough nor rich enough. You might be a contractor risen from nothing, or a mercante di campagna whose father had herded pigs, and, if you had money, no objections would be made to your marrying into the Acorari or any other family. Figlio mio, take my advice. Leave these people alone, and take your wife from a class that has good brains and healthy blood, not from these worn-out families of which the country has very little further need. You are only preparing for yourself trouble and disappointment."