Nor had this episode been all that had occurred during the last few days to confirm Bianca Acorari's suspicions and make her doubly uneasy in her mind.
It so happened that, while wandering through some of the disused apartments of the castle, in the wing opposite to that occupied by the princess and herself, she had overheard a portion of a conversation between domestics, certainly not intended for her ears. Her attention was arrested by the mention of her own name in a loud and rather excited female voice; and approaching nearer to the room whence the voices proceeded, she saw her own maid, Bettina, and a girl whom she recognized as the _fattore_ Fontana's daughter, engaged in mending some linen. They were also, apparently, occupied in a discussion of which she herself was the object, and the agent's daughter appeared to be taking her part with some vigor.
"It was a shame," Bianca heard the girl exclaim, "that the _principessina_ should be forced to marry an old man like the baron, when there was a _bel giovanotto_ who loved her and whom she loved. For her part, if she were the Principessina Bianca she would box the baron's ears--_uno, due_--so! and marry the lad she loved. What was the use of being a princess if one could not do as one chose?"
Then had followed some words in a lower tone from Bettina, the sense of which Bianca could not catch, but which appeared to have the effect of still further arousing Concetta Fontana's indignation.
"Ah, the poor girl!" Bianca heard her reply. "They shut her up here in this dreary place, and they will keep her here until she lets that old he-goat have his own way. And the priest is at the bottom of it--oh, certainly, the priest is at the bottom of it! It is useless to tell me. I have heard him and the Signor Barone talking together--and I know. If one could ever approach the _principessina_ to get a word with her, I would warn her that it is a trap they are laying for her--just as though she were a bird, the poor child!"
Bianca Acorari turned away, sick at heart. The servants, then, and the people about Montefiano, knew for a fact what she had never even suspected. She had regarded Monsieur d'Antin's attempt to make love to her as odious and cowardly, and also, perhaps, as ludicrous--but she had not until then suspected that others were aware of his passion for her, and still less that her having been brought to Montefiano was part of a deliberately laid plan to force her to yield to that passion.