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But he did not linger long. Boduoc would be waiting for him, and he could not hurry over his visit, the first he had paid since his absence; therefore he pushed on, with scarce a glance at the stately temple of Claudius, the magnificent baths or other public buildings, until he arrived at the villa of Caius Muro, which stood somewhat beyond the more crowded part of the town.
"The place shall be clean," said Veronica to the steward, who stood before her table, receiving her orders. "But, Excellency, how can it be clean when there are pigs everywhere?" inquired the man, astonished at her audacity. "There shall be no more pigs in Muro," answered the young princess. "The people shall choose as many trustworthy old men and boys as are necessary to look after the creatures.
Nevertheless, the fact remained that she was a very young, unmarried woman, that she was going to live alone, and that she was breaking through the whole hard shell of fossilized social tradition. Even Elettra, born a peasant of the mountains, thought her mistress's decision amazingly bold, though she approved of it in her heart, and had been ready to go to Muro with Veronica long ago.
They say that she sits at the head of the grand staircase, once a year, at midnight, and shrieks. If you wish to see Muro, you had better go before I am there," she added, with a smile. "I shall be there alone, and I could not possibly receive you, as I could not even offer you a cup of tea, you know." "What an absurd institution society is," observed Taquisara, with contempt.
The muro was not always simply a hole roofed over: it sometimes contained a house having a wooden frame lashed together with vine-tendrils, the walls lined with sedges and reeds and plastered with a mixture of grass and clay. The roof was thatched with reeds; there was a door opening inwards, and a raised platform served for sleeping purposes.
I shall be three-and-twenty years of age on my next birthday. Ask Don Teodoro whether I am not able to take care of myself and of Muro, too, for that matter!" "Who is Don Teodoro?" asked the Duchessa, nervously, and still altogether horrified. "The parish priest," said Veronica. "A very learned and charitable old man. He dines with me every evening."
"He says he is the Reverend Teodoro Maresca, curate of your Excellency's church in Muro, and begs you earnestly to receive him." Veronica rose again. She knew Don Teodoro by name, for Bosio had often spoken of him to her, as his former tutor and his friend. It was for Bosio's sake that he had come that was clear.
I once visited the ancient castle of Muro, in the Basilicata, one of the southern provinces in Italy, where Queen Joanna the First paid her life for her sins at last, and died under the feather pillow that was forced down upon her face by two Hungarian soldiers.
"But Father Muro is such an innocent old love," she went on, "that he did it badly. He had been told to do it by the Jesuits and he made a bungle of it. He thought that he could make a schoolgirl answer a question if she did not want to. And no one was afraid of him. He is a dear, good, old saint, and will assuredly go to Heaven.
Father Muro was afraid that Sarrion could not see Juanita. It was not within his province, but he knew that it was against the rules. Then he remembered that he had seen a letter addressed to the Count de Sarrion. It was lying on the table at the refectory door, where letters intended for the post were usually placed. It was doubtless from Juanita. He would fetch it.
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