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beautiful Englishwoman, who considered that she had done quite enough for

the household by bringing her husband a dowry of five millions, and

bearing him five children. The Prince, anxious and weak despite his

violence, in which one found a trace of the old Roman blood, already

spoilt by mixture with that of a foreign race, was nowadays ever

influenced in his actions by the fear that his house and fortune--which

hitherto had remained intact amidst the accumulated ruins of the

_patriziato_--might suddenly collapse. And in finally yielding to Celia,

he must have been guided by the idea of rallying to the new _regime_

through his daughter, so as to have one foot firmly set at the Quirinal,

without withdrawing the other from the Vatican. It was galling, no doubt;

his pride must have bled at the idea of allying his name with that of

such low folks as the Saccos. But then Sacco was a minister, and had sped

so quickly from success to success that it seemed likely he would rise

yet higher, and, after the portfolio of Agriculture, secure that of

Finances, which he had long coveted. And an alliance with Sacco meant the

certain favour of the King, an assured retreat in that direction should

the papacy some day collapse. Then, too, the Prince had made inquiries

respecting the son, and was somewhat disarmed by the good looks, bravery,

and rectitude of young Attilio, who represented the future, and possibly

the glorious Italy of to-morrow. He was a soldier, and could be helped

forward to the highest rank. And people spitefully added that the last

reason which had influenced the Prince, who was very avaricious, and

greatly worried by the thought that his fortune must be divided among his

five children,* was that an opportunity presented itself for him to

bestow a ridiculously small dowry on Celia. However, having consented to

the marriage, he resolved to give a splendid _fete_, such as was now

seldom witnessed in Rome, throwing his doors open to all the rival

sections of society, inviting the sovereigns, and setting the palazzo

ablaze as in the grand days of old. In doing this he would necessarily

have to expend some of the money to which he clung, but a boastful spirit

incited him to show the world that he at any rate had not been vanquished

by the financial crisis, and that the Buongiovannis had nothing to hide

and nothing to blush for. To tell the truth, some people asserted that

this bravado had not originated with himself, but had been instilled into

him without his knowledge by the quiet and innocent Celia, who wished to

exhibit her happiness to all applauding Rome.

* The Italian succession law is similar to the French. Children

cannot be disinherited. All property is divided among them,

and thus the piling up of large hereditary fortunes is

prevented.--Trans.

"Dear me!" said Narcisse, whom the throng prevented from advancing. "We

shall never get in. Why, they seem to have invited the whole city." And

then, as Pierre seemed surprised to see a prelate drive up in his

carriage, the _attache_ added: "Oh! you will elbow more than one of them

upstairs. The cardinals won't like to come on account of the presence of

the King and Queen, but the prelates are sure to be here. This, you know,

is a neutral drawing-room where the black and the white worlds can

fraternise. And then too, there are so few _fetes_ that people rush on

them."

He went on to explain that there were two grand balls at Court every

winter, but that it was only under exceptional circumstances that the

_patriziato_ gave similar _galas_. Two or three of the black _salons_

were opened once in a way towards the close of the Carnival, but little

dances among intimates replaced the pompous entertainments of former

times. Some princesses moreover merely had their day. And as for the few

white _salons_ that existed, these likewise retained the same character

of intimacy, more or less mixed, for no lady had yet become the

undisputed queen of the new society.

"Well, here we are at last," resumed Narcisse as they eventually climbed

the stairs.

"Let us keep together," Pierre somewhat anxiously replied. "My only

acquaintance is with the _fiancee_, and I want you to introduce me."

However, a considerable effort was needed even to climb the monumental

staircase, so great was the crush of arriving guests. Never, in the old

days of wax candles and oil lamps, had this staircase offered such a

blaze of light. Electric lamps, burning in clusters in superb bronze

candelabra on the landings, steeped everything in a white radiance. The

cold stucco of the walls was hidden by a series of lofty tapestries

depicting the story of Cupid and Psyche, marvels which had remained in

the family since the days of the Renascence. And a thick carpet covered

the worn marble steps, whilst clumps of evergreens and tall spreading

palms decorated every corner. An affluence of new blood warmed the

antique mansion that evening; there was a resurrection of life, so to

say, as the women surged up the staircase, smiling and perfumed,

bare-shouldered, and sparkling with diamonds.

At the entrance of the first reception-room Pierre at once perceived

Prince and Princess Buongiovanni, standing side by side and receiving

their guests. The Prince, a tall, slim man with fair complexion and hair

turning grey, had the pale northern eyes of his American mother in an

energetic face such as became a former captain of the popes. The

Princess, with small, delicate, and rounded features, looked barely

thirty, though she had really passed her fortieth year. And still pretty,

displaying a smiling serenity which nothing could disconcert, she purely

and simply basked in self-adoration. Her gown was of pink satin, and a

marvellous parure of large rubies set flamelets about her dainty neck and

in her fine, fair hair. Of her five children, her son, the eldest, was

travelling, and three of the girls, mere children, were still at school,

so that only Celia was present, Celia in a modest gown of white muslin,

fair like her mother, quite bewitching with her large innocent eyes and

her candid lips, and retaining to the very end of her love story the

semblance of a closed lily of impenetrable, virginal mysteriousness. The

Saccos had but just arrived, and Attilio, in his simple lieutenant's

uniform, had remained near his betrothed, so naively and openly delighted

with his great happiness that his handsome face, with its caressing mouth

and brave eyes, was quite resplendent with youth and strength. Standing

there, near one another, in the triumph of their passion they appeared

like life's very joy and health, like the personification of hope in the

morrow's promises; and the entering guests who saw them could not refrain

from smiling and feeling moved, momentarily forgetting their loquacious

and malicious curiosity to give their hearts to those chosen ones of love

who looked so handsome and so enraptured.

Narcisse stepped forward in order to present Pierre, but Celia

anticipated him. Going to meet the young priest she led him to her father

and mother, saying: "Monsieur l'Abbe Pierre Froment, a friend of my dear

Benedetta." Ceremonious salutations followed. Then the young girl, whose

graciousness greatly touched Pierre, said to him: "Benedetta is coming

with her aunt and Dario. She must be very happy this evening! And you

will also see how beautiful she will be."

Pierre and Narcisse next began to congratulate her, but they could not

remain there, the throng was ever jostling them; and the Prince and

Princess, quite lost in the crush, had barely time to answer the many

salutations with amiable, continuous nods. And Celia, after conducting

the two friends to Attilio, was obliged to return to her parents so as to

take her place beside them as the little queen of the _fete_.

Narcisse was already slightly acquainted with Attilio, and so fresh

congratulations ensued. Then the two friends manoeuvred to find a spot

where they might momentarily tarry and contemplate the spectacle which

this first _salon_ presented. It was a vast hall, hung with green velvet

broidered with golden flowers, and contained a very remarkable collection

of weapons and armour, breast-plates, battle-axes, and swords, almost all

of which had belonged to the Buongiovannis of the fifteenth and sixteenth

centuries. And amidst those stern implements of war there was a lovely

sedan-chair of the last century, gilded and decorated with delicate

paintings. It was in this chair that the Prince's great-grandmother, the

celebrated Bettina, whose beauty was historical, had usually been carried

to mass. On the walls, moreover, there were numerous historical

paintings: battles, peace congresses, and royal receptions in which the

Buongiovannis had taken part, without counting the many family portraits,

tall and proud figures of sea-captains, commanders in the field, great

dignitaries of the Church, prelates and cardinals, amongst whom, in the

place of honour, appeared the family pope, the white-robed Buongiovanni

whose accession to the pontifical throne had enriched a long line of

descendants. And it was among those armours, near that coquettish sedan,

and below those antique portraits, that the Saccos, husband and wife, had

in their turn just halted, at a few steps from the master and mistress of

the house, in order to secure their share of congratulations and bows.

"Look over there!" Narcisse whispered to Pierre, "those are the Saccos in

front of us, that dark little fellow and the lady in mauve silk."

Pierre promptly recognised the bright face and pleasant smile of Stefana,

whom he had already met at old Orlando's. But he was more interested in

her husband, a dark dry man, with big eyes, sallow complexion, prominent

chin, and vulturine nose. Like some gay Neapolitan "Pulcinello," he was

dancing, shouting, and displaying such infectious good humour that it

spread to all around him. He possessed a wonderful gift of speech, with a

voice that was unrivalled as an instrument of fascination and conquest;

and on seeing how easily he ingratiated himself with the people in that

drawing-room, one could understand his lightning-like successes in the

political world. He had manoeuvered with rare skill in the matter of his

son's marriage, affecting such exaggerated delicacy of feeling as to set

himself against the lovers, and declare that he would never consent to

their union, as he had no desire to be accused of stealing a dowry and a

title. As a matter of fact, he had only yielded after the Buongiovannis

had given their consent, and even then he had desired to take the opinion

of old Orlando, whose lofty integrity was proverbial. However, he knew

right well that he would secure the old hero's approval in this

particular affair, for Orlando made no secret of his opinion that the

Buongiovannis ought to be glad to admit his grand-nephew into their

family, as that handsome young fellow, with brave and healthy heart,

would help to regenerate their impoverished blood. And throughout the

whole affair, Sacco had shrewdly availed himself of Orlando's famous

name, for ever talking of the relationship between them, and displaying

filial veneration for this glorious founder of the country, as if indeed

he had no suspicion that the latter despised and execrated him and

mourned his accession to power in the conviction that he would lead Italy

to shame and ruin.

"Ah!" resumed Narcisse addressing Pierre, "he's one of those supple,

practical men who care nothing for a smack in the face. It seems that

unscrupulous individuals like himself become necessary when states get

into trouble and have to pass through political, financial, and moral

crises. It is said that Sacco with his imperturbable assurance and

ingenious and resourceful mind has quite won the King's favour. Just look

at him! Why, with that crowd of courtiers round him, one might think him

the master of this palace!"

And indeed the guests, after passing the Prince and Princess with a bow,

at once congregated around Sacco, for he represented power, emoluments,

pensions, and crosses; and if folks still smiled at seeing his dark,

turbulent, and scraggy figure amidst that framework of family portraits

which proclaimed the mighty ancestry of the Buongiovannis, they none the

less worshipped him as the personification of the new power, the

democratic force which was confusedly rising even from the old Roman soil

where the _patriziato_ lay in ruins.

"What a crowd!" muttered Pierre. "Who are all these people?"

"Oh!" replied Narcisse, "it is a regular mixture. These people belong

neither to the black nor the white world; they form a grey world as it

were. The evolution was certain; a man like Cardinal Boccanera may retain

an uncompromising attitude, but a whole city, a nation can't. The Pope

alone will always say no and remain immutable. But everything around him

progresses and undergoes transformation, so that in spite of all

resistance, Rome will become Italian in a few years' time. Even now,

whenever a prince has two sons only one of them remains on the side of

the Vatican, the other goes over to the Quirinal. People must live, you

see; and the great families threatened with annihilation have not

sufficient heroism to carry obstinacy to the point of suicide. And I have

already told you that we are here on neutral ground, for Prince

Buongiovanni was one of the first to realise the necessity of

conciliation. He feels that his fortune is perishing, he does not care to

risk it either in industry or in speculation, and already sees it

portioned out among his five children, by whose descendants it will be

yet further divided; and this is why he prudently makes advances to the

King without, however, breaking with the Pope. In this _salon_,

therefore, you see a perfect picture of the _debacle_, the confusion

which reigns in the Prince's ideas and opinions." Narcisse paused, and