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"But I believe," she added hesitatingly, "that Signor Maironi is ill, and not able to travel." When she uttered Maironi's name flames rushed to her face. She felt them far hotter than they appeared, but the Minister noticed them, and came to her aid. "Perhaps, Signora," he said, "you fear to compromise your friends the Selvas. Do not fear this.
Her eyes shone with that look of intense animation which, in former days, they had been wont to assume when Maironi entered the room, or even when she heard his step outside. "I wish I had the toilette I wore at Praglia," she said. "I should like to appear before him in my green fur-lined cloak, now, in May!
"Very well, then; I am a functionary of the State, who takes some interest in the public security, and who has a certain amount of power yes, a certain amount of power. Now I am going to prove to you that I take an interest in you also. I regret to say, you are in a critical position, my dear Signor Maironi, or Signor Benedetto, at your choice.
The Right Honourable Albacina was aware of his wife's friendship for Signora Dessalle as well as of Signora Dessalle's friendship for the Selvas, who in their turn were so devoted to Maironi. He had told his wife that he wished to speak with this lady, for reasons of his own, which he did not intend to reveal. He should expect her at the Ministry of the Interior soon after three o'clock.
"This young man," he began, "Is a certain Piero Maironi of Brescia. You must surely have heard of the family. His father, Don Franco Maironi, married a woman without birth or money. His parents were already dead at the time, and he lived with his paternal grandmother, Marchesa Maironi, an imperious and proud woman." "Oh!" exclaimed the Abbot, "I knew her! A perfect terror! I remember her well.
The secular garments filled them with amazement; they concluded he had been excommunicated and allowed him to pass in silence. A few steps beyond, some one who was running overtook him. It was a slender, fair lad, with blue eyes full of intelligence. "Are you going to Rome, Signor Maironi?" he said. "I beg you not to call me by that name!"
"And we'll meet to-morrow at ten if there hasn't been a fire Better keep your notes in the bath, Oscar." In as much haste as could be made with a good appearance, Oscar buckled his volume in its leather cover, gathered his hat and pencil, and, bidding his pupils a very good night, sped smoothly out of the room. Oscar Maironi was very poor.
She determined to send her carriage to wait for him at the door of the Ministry of the Interior, with the footman who had known Maironi at Villa Diedo. It was imprudent, but what did it matter? Nothing mattered save that dear life. The announcement of the death of Marchesa Nene had reached her that very evening by the last post.
I once more repeat that Signor Maironi has nothing to fear from any quarter, and I will add that we know all about him. We know he is in Rome, that he is staying but only for a few hours longer in the house of a senator in Via della Polveriera. We know he is ill, but that he is able to travel.
Jeanne shuddered and frowned; but presently she saw in her friend's eyes a look so full of despair, of supplication, that, passing from angry jealousy to an impulse of unheard of affection, she opened her arms to her, and clasped her to her heart. This had happened on the Friday evening the last of the three days by the end of which Maironi was to leave Rome.
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