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Updated: May 3, 2025
Declaring she could judge men far better by their faces than by their words, the old Marchesa reproached Guarnacci for not having made a hole in the door, or at least left the key in the lock. "You are too holy," she said. "You do not understand women!"
In her heart she offered it, with sweet eagerness, to Benedetto. She often saw the Selvas and Noemi; not at their home, but at the Grand Hôtel. The Selvas themselves were captivated by the fascination of this woman, so superior, so beautiful, so gentle and sad. All she had heard from Guarnacci concerning Benedetto she had already heard from Noemi.
He offered her his arm, and led her down, apologising for the darkness, and explaining that the proprietor's avarice was to blame for it. Jeanne entered Signora Albacina's carriage, which was to take her to the Grand Hôtel. On the way Signora Albacina spoke with regret of what Guarnacci had just told her. Jeanne did not open her lips. Her silence troubled her friend.
"You know? Where is it?" Guarnacci did not answer, and, perceiving her indiscretion, she added hastily. "I beg your pardon! I beg your pardon!" "We shall find out, we shall find out!" said the Marchesa. "But tell me, my dear boy, is not this saint of yours, who preaches in secret, a kind of heresiarch? What do the priests say to him?"
The Marchesa was determined to hear him without being seen. She had arranged everything with Guarnacci, and had admitted three or four friends into the conspiracy, each in her turn obtaining permission to introduce others. They appeared a strangely assorted company. Many were in evening toilettes, two were dressed precisely like Friends, while only one lady wore black.
She had put out the light that she might think, that she might see only her own thoughts, only that idea which had taken possession of her while coming down-stairs at Casa Guarnacci leaning on the Professor's arm, after she had heard those terrible words: "We fear he will not live!" and had almost lost consciousness.
The ladies were twelve in number. The master of the house, Professor Guarnacci, son of the general-agent of one of them the Marchesa Fermi, a Roman had spoken to her about the meeting which was to take place at his house, and had mentioned the discourse to be pronounced by that strange personage about whom all Rome was already talking, knowing him as an enthusiastic religious agitator and miracle worker, most popular in the Testaccio district.
"Professor Guarnacci," said she, "Signora Dessalle, a dear friend of mine." The "Catacombs" meant the very hall they were in at the present moment. At first the meetings had been held at the Selvas' apartment, in Via Arenula. There were several reasons why that place had not seemed quite suitable. Guarnacci, becoming a disciple, had offered his own house. The meetings were held there twice a week.
The Professor hastily retraced his steps, and found Jeanne standing on the second landing, clinging to the banisters. At first she neither spoke nor moved; but presently she murmured: "I cannot see!" Guarnacci, not knowing, did not notice that moment of silence, or the low and uncertain tone of her voice.
Guarnacci laughed, apologising with all the consideration due to his father's employer, and assured her that Benedetto was as beautiful as an angel. A rather insipid young woman who had come, "Goodness only knows why!" the two Friends thought angrily, announced, in quiet tones, that she had seen him twice, and that he was ugly.
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