The Eternal City - Page 106/385

"Oh, I know what I'm saying, sir. The Prime Minister is at the bottom of

everything. David Rossi never goes to Donna Roma's house but the Baron

Bonelli knows all about it. They write to each other every day, and I've

posted her letters myself. Her house is his house. Carriages,

horses, servants, liveries--how else could she support it? By her art,

her sculpture?"

Bruno was frightened to the bottom of his soul, but he continued to talk

and to laugh bitterly.

"She's deceiving you, sir. Isn't it as plain as daylight? You hit her

hard, and old Vampire too, in your speech on the morning of the Pope's

Jubilee, and she's paying you out for both of them."

"That's enough, Bruno."

"All Rome knows it, and everybody will be laughing at you soon."

"You've said enough, I tell you. Go to bed."

"Oh, I know! The heart has its reasons, but it listens to none."

"Go to bed, I tell you! Isn't it sufficient that by your tittle-tattle

you caused me to wrong the lady?"

"I did?"

"You did."

"I did not."

"You did, and if it hadn't been for the tales you told me before I knew

her, or had ever seen her, I should never have spoken of her as I did."

"She deserved all you said of her."

"She didn't deserve one word of it, and it was your lies that made me

slander her."

Bruno's eyes flinched as if a blow had fallen on them. Then he tried to

laugh.

"Hit me again. The skin of the ass is used to blows. Only don't go too

far with me, David Rossi."

"Then don't you go too far with your falsehoods and suspicion."

"Suspicion! Holy Virgin! Is it suspicion that she has had you at her

studio to make a Roman holiday for her friends and cronies? By the

saints! Suspicion!"

"Go on, if it becomes you."

"If what becomes me?"

"To eat her bread and talk against her."

"That's a lie, David Rossi, and you know it. It's my own bread I'm

eating. My labour belongs to me, and I sell it to my employer. But my

conscience belongs to God, and she cannot buy it."

David Rossi's white and angry face broke up like a snow-flake in the

sun.

"I was wrong when I said that, Bruno, and I ask your pardon."