XIV
Four days only had elapsed since the Abbé Roux's interview with Monsieur d'Antin in the Via Ludovisi, when he received a telegram from Princess Montefiano, begging him to come to the Villa Acorari at once, as she wished to consult him on urgent business.
The abbé had endeavored to find out, by judicious inquiries from the porter at Palazzo Montefiano, and from one or two servants who were left in charge of the princess's apartments, whether any stranger who might answer to Monsieur d'Antin's description of the young man he had seen with Donna Bianca had ever presented himself there. He had intended going to the Villa Acorari himself under some excuse of business, and, without saying anything for the moment to Princess Montefiano, to cause the grounds to be watched, and the intrusion of any stranger duly reported to him. Indeed, he had determined, so far as time permitted, to do a little watching on his own account. It was clearly advisable, as Monsieur d'Antin had said, to know with whom one was dealing. It might be, though it was not at all likely, that Bianca Acorari's Romeo was a son of some well-known Roman house, living in villeggiatura at his family palace or villa in the neighborhood; and that the scene at which Monsieur d'Antin had assisted was merely the escapade of some thoughtless youth at a loss how to pass his time in the country.
It was curious that, in turning over in his mind all the possible men who could have had any opportunity of seeing enough of Donna Bianca to fall in love with her, the Abbé Roux never thought of the son of the obnoxious senator who lived in Palazzo Acorari. As a matter of fact, he had never seen Silvio Rossano, for he had never happened to encounter him on the staircase or in the court-yard of Palazzo Acorari on the occasion of his frequent visits there, though he was very well aware of his existence.
It was, therefore, a pure coincidence that Silvio should happen to enter the palace at the very moment when the abbé was in deep conversation with the porter at the foot of the staircase. Probably the priest would scarcely have noticed him, had it not been that Silvio had looked at him with, as he fancied, some curiosity. Monsieur l'Abbé asked the porter who Silvio was, and the man seemed surprised.
"That one?" he said. "Why, that is the signorino of the second floor, a bel ragazzo—is it not true, monsignore?"
The Montefiano establishment always gave the Abbé Roux the title of monsignore, not being quite clear as to what an abbé might be.
"Ah, of course," returned the abbé, "the signorino of the second floor"—and he followed Silvio's retreating form with his eyes.
"Un bel ragazzo davvero—proprio bello!" he continued, giving Silvio a prolonged look, as the latter turned the angle of the staircase, and enabled the abbé to see his face distinctly. "He is always in Rome?" he inquired, carelessly.
"Yes, the Signorino Rossano was living at home now," the porter declared. "He was a very quiet young man—molto serio. Indeed, he, the porter, had never seen him engaged in any adventures, unless—"