Presently, Giacinta became restive under the prolonged silence which followed the professor's departure from the room.
"You see, Silvio," she observed, as though she were merely continuing an interrupted conversation, "it is not only I who notice that you have had your head in the clouds lately--oh, ever since Christmas. And first of all, people will say: 'He is in love'--as Giacomelli said to papa yesterday; and then they will begin to ask: 'Who is the girl?' And then, very soon, some busybody will find out. It is always like that. And then--"
"Yes, Giacinta--and then?" repeated Silvio.
"I will tell you!" returned Giacinta, decidedly. "Then that priest, Monsieur l'Abbé Roux, as they call him, will be sent by the princess to see papa, and there will be well, a terrible _disturbo_--"
"The Abbé Roux can go to hell," observed Silvio.
"Afterwards--yes, perhaps. Papa has several times given him a similar permission. But in the mean time he will make matters exceedingly unpleasant. After all, Silvio," Giacinta continued, "let us be reasonable. The girl is an heiress--a princess in her own right, and we--we are not noble. You know what the world would say."
"We are Romans," he said, "of a family as old as the Acorari themselves. It is true that we are not noble. Perhaps, when we look at some of those who are, it is as well! But we are not poor, either, Giacinta--not so poor as to have to be fed by rich American and English adventurers at the Grand Hôtel, like some of your nobles."
Giacinta shrugged her shoulders. "Donna Bianca Acorari is of that class," she said, quietly.
Silvio instantly flew into a rage. "That is so like a woman!" he retorted. "Do you suppose I meant to imply that all our nobles are like that? Each class has its _canaglia_, and the pity of it is that the foreigners as a rule see more of our _canaglia_ than they do of the rest, and judge us accordingly. As to Donna Bianca Acorari, we can leave her name out of the discussion--"
Giacinta laughed. "Scarcely," she said; "but, Silvio _mio_, you must not be angry. You know that I do not care at all whether people are noble by birth or whether they are not. All the same, I think you are preparing for yourself a great deal of mortification; and for that girl, if you make her care for you, a great deal of unhappiness. You see how she is isolated. Does anybody, even of their own world, ever come to visit the princess and Donna Bianca? A few old women come occasionally, and a few priests--but that is all. Who or what the girl is being kept for I do not know--but it is certainly not for marriage with one not of her condition. Besides, except as her _fidanzato_, what opportunity could you have, or ever hope to have, of seeing her or of knowing what her feelings might be towards you?"
