"Which means to say that the priest does not wish it, for some reasons of his own--money reasons, probably. The princess will do what he tells her to do, of course."
"And do you mean me to go and bribe the Abbé Roux?" asked the professor, "for I shall most decidedly do nothing of the kind!"
"Oh, not at all!" returned Silvio, quietly; "I tell you, it does not matter, Babbo. Bianca and I shall wait three years, unless we get tired of waiting and run away with each other before. We could be married in a church, you know, and the legal marriage might be postponed till she was of age, but I think it would be better to wait the three years."
"_Diamine!_" ejaculated the professor, "but you seem to be very certain of your arrangements, _figlio mio_, and of the girl."
Silvio nodded. "You see," he said, "I don't want to put her in any false position, and if we ran away with each other before she is of age, people would say I had done it in order eventually to get her money. Besides, in the course of three years she will have ample time to be quite sure that she has not made a mistake," added Silvio, with a smile.
The professor looked at him. "Yes," he said, "you are quite right, but not many young men would be so thoughtful or so confiding. In the mean time, you think--Giacinta thinks there is no chance of your being allowed to pay your addresses to Donna Bianca Acorari, because, I suppose, you would not be considered well-born enough nor rich enough. You might be a contractor risen from nothing, or a _mercante di campagna_ whose father had herded pigs, and, if you had money, no objections would be made to your marrying into the Acorari or any other family. _Figlio mio_, take my advice. Leave these people alone, and take your wife from a class that has good brains and healthy blood, not from these worn-out families of which the country has very little further need. You are only preparing for yourself trouble and disappointment."
Silvio shook his head. "I will marry Bianca Acorari, or I will marry nobody," he said.
"That being the case," he observed, mildly, "what is the use of discussing the matter any further? Why send me to the girl's step-mother? It is a waste of time."
"Of course I should write!" returned his father testily. "You don't suppose I should spend a whole day in going to Velletri and back on such an affair, do you? All the same, I see why you think the formal proposal should be made in the usual way. If it is declined by the princess--as, of course, it will be--you and the girl will consider yourselves to be justified in taking the matter into your hands--is it not true?"
