"Yes," Silvio replied, guardedly. "I know Donna Bianca Acorari by sight, extremely well."
Don Agostino leaned forward in his chair. "Ah," he exclaimed, eagerly, "you know her by sight! Tell me about her. I saw her once--once only--and then she was quite a little child. It was in Rome--years ago. She is, no doubt, grown into a beautiful girl by now."
Silvio looked at him with surprise. The eagerness in his voice was unmistakable, but there was the same strange expression of pain on his face.
"But surely," he replied, "your reverence must have seen her here at Montefiano, or, at least, others must have seen her who could tell you about her?"
Don Agostino shook his head. "Nobody has seen her since her arrival here," he said. "The castle is large, and the park behind it is very extensive. There is no reason why its inmates should ever come into the _paese_, and they never do come into it."
"The servants were all brought from Rome. Most of the provisions also are sent from Rome. There is practically no communication with the town of Montefiano, and, except the _fattore_, I have heard of nobody who has been admitted inside the castle walls since the princess and Donna Bianca arrived."
"Yes," returned Don Agostino, "it is certainly strange. But," he added, "you do not tell me of Donna Bianca--what she is like; whether she is beautiful, as beautiful as--" he stopped abruptly and passed his hand almost impatiently across his eyes, as though to shut out some vision.
"Beautiful?" repeated Silvio, in a low voice. "I do not know--yes, I suppose that she is beautiful--and--and-- But why do you ask me?" he suddenly burst out, impetuously, and the hot color again mounted to his cheeks and brow.
Don Agostino suddenly turned and looked at him keenly.
"Why should I not ask you?" he replied, quietly. "You have seen her," he added, "and I--I am interested in her. Oh, not because she is the Princess of Montefiano--that does not concern me at all--but--well, for other reasons."
Silvio was silent. Indeed, he did not know how to answer. What he had just heard confirmed his suspicions that Bianca was practically isolated from the world, as though she were within the walls of a convent. He had asked in Montefiano about the castle and its inmates, and had learned absolutely nothing, save what might be implied by the shrugging of shoulders.