The Heart of Rome | Page 5

had closed in upon it and all it held, softly, without noise
and without pity.
It was their own fault, of course, but the Baroness was sorry for them,
for she was not quite heartless, in spite of her hard face. The gloomiest
landscape must have a ray of light in it, somewhere. It was all their own
fault; they should have known better; they should have counted what
they had instead of spending what they had not. But their fall was great,
as everything had been in their prosperity, and it was interesting to be
connected with it. She faintly hoped Volterra would keep the palace
now that they could certainly never pay any more interest on the

mortgage, and it was barely possible that she might some day live in it
herself, though she understood that it would be in very bad taste to
occupy it at once. But this was unlikely, for her husband had a
predilection for a new house, in the new part of the city, full of new
furniture and modern French pictures. He had a pronounced dislike for
old things, including old pictures and old jewellery, though he knew
much about both. Possibly they reminded him of that absurd story, and
of his duel at forty paces.
Volterra would sell the palace to the Vatican, with everything in it, and
would look about for another lucrative investment. The Vatican bought
all the palaces in the market for religious institutions, and when there
were not enough "it" built the finest buildings in Rome for its own
purposes. Volterra was mildly anti-clerical in politics, but he was
particularly fond of dealing with the Vatican for real estate. The
Vatican was a most admirable house of business, in his estimation,
keen, punctual and always solvent; it was good for a financier to be
associated with such an institution. It drove a hard bargain, but there
was never any hesitation about fulfilling its obligations to the last
farthing. Dreaming over one of his enormous Havanas after a perfect
dinner, Baron Volterra, Senator of the Kingdom of Italy, often
wondered whether the prosperity of the whole world would not be
vastly increased if the Vatican would consent to be the general financial
agent for the European nations. Such stability as there would be, such
order! Above all, such guarantees of good faith! Besides all that, there
were its cordial relations with the United States, that is to say, with the
chief source of the world's future wealth! The Senator's
strongly-marked face grew sweetly thoughtful as he followed his own
visions in the air, and when his wife spoke of living in an antiquated
Roman palace and buying an estate with an old title attached to it,
which the King might graciously be pleased to ratify, he playfully
tapped his wife's sallow cheek with two fat fingers and smiled in a way
that showed how superior he was to such weakness. It was not even
worth while to say anything.
Once more the Baroness sighed as she turned from the window. She
meant to have her own way in the end, but it was hard to wait so long.

She turned from the window, glanced at a beautiful holy family by
Bonifazio which hung on the opposite wall above an alabaster table,
estimated its value instinctively and went on into the next drawing-
room.
As she passed through the door, a low cry of pain made her start and
hesitate, and she stood still. The degree of her acquaintance with the
members of the family was just such that she would not quite dare to
intrude upon them if they had given way to an expression of pardonable
weakness under their final misfortune, whereas if they were bearing it
with reasonable fortitude she could allow herself to offer her sympathy
and even some judicious help.
She stood still and the sound was repeated, the pitiful little tearless
complaint of a young thing suffering alone. It was somewhere in the
big room, hidden amongst the furniture; which was less stiffly arranged
here than in the outer apartments. There were books and newspapers on
the table, the fireplace was half-full of the ashes of a burnt-out fire,
there were faded flowers in a tall vase near the window, there was the
undefinable presence of life in the heavier and warmer air. At first the
Baroness had thought that the cry came from some small animal, hurt
and forgotten there in the great catastrophe; a moment later she was
sure that there was some one in the room.
She moved cautiously forward in the direction whence the sound had
come. Then she saw the edge of a fawn-coloured cloth skirt on the red
carpet by an armchair. She went on, hesitating no longer. She