Naturally enough, he
supposed that his short career as a promoter of republican ideas had
caused him to be remembered as a dangerous person, and that a careful
ministry was anxious to know why he lived alone in a vast palace, in
the heart of Rome, knowing very few people and seeing hardly any one
except Volterra. The Baron himself was apparently quite indifferent to
any risk in the matter, and yet, as a staunch monarchist and supporter
of the ministry then in office, it might have been expected that he
would not openly associate with the monarchy's professed enemies. That
was his affair, as Malipieri had frankly told him at the beginning.
For the rest, the young architect smiled as he thought of the time and
money the government was wasting on the supposition that he was
plotting against it, but it annoyed him to find that certain faces of
men in the streets were becoming familiar to him, quiet, blank faces
of respectable middle-aged men, who always avoided meeting his eyes,
and were very polite in standing aside to let him pass them on the
pavement. There were now three whom he knew by sight, and he saw one
of them every time he went out of the house. He knew what that meant.
He had not the smallest doubt but that all three reported what they
saw of his movements to Signor Vittorio Bruni, every day, in some
particularly quiet little office in one of the government buildings
connected with the Ministry of the Interior.
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