All roads lead to Rome. It would doubtless be tedious at this point to describe the obstacles on the road, and, when Rome has been achieved, the all-night hunt for a room in a hotel, an adventure which now commonly befalls the traveller to Rome. But it is a wonderful impression which you receive of this mighty city in the silent watchful hours, when all are sleeping, and the living are nearer to the famous dead. The scenery seems laid for some great historical drama--but it is in truth only laid for you and the poor fellow shouldering your bag, and for a restless knocking at closed doors, trying to awaken slumberous porters who, like the man at Macbeth's castle, swear they will "devil-porter it no longer." You settle down at last for a few hours sleep on a couple of chairs in a waiting-room, but are prevented by a loquacious gentleman who calls himself a "_chasseur des hotels_," and says that when a man has sought all night and found nothing, he is generally ready for a proposition. The _chasseur_ conducts you to a room in a house in a back street, a chill, red-tiled room, let by a buxom Roman, whose little girl of twelve is in the capacity of general servant and makes the bed and empties the slops and serves the coffee without one self-conscious smile. Rome indeed, and room enough! When you are lodged it does not matter much how you are lodged. Rome, the capital of capitals, still continues to be a place of destiny in Europe. It is not in the glare of light in which Berlin and Paris find themselves, but the fates of Berlin and Paris are secretly dependent on it. For Rome sways the balance of power after the war. If Rome backs Germany, France at once feels isolated; if Rome backs France, Germany must come to terms. The French are victors and have the winning forces in their hands, but the Italians are psychologists and know how to win without material force. Hence has arisen the curious after-the-Paris-conference situation. Italy has been despised by France; Italy, therefore, has renounced that war-after-the-war, dear to the French heart; Italy has communed with Dr. Benes and planted another thorn in the side of the Hapsburgs; she has secretly opposed French policy in Hungary. With Germany she has made a commercial entente--not a political or military one, but a pacific _laissez-faire_ for the purposes of trade. France envisages the complete ruin of German industry and commerce, and believes that Foch is the man to do it. At this the Italians smile quietly and counsel the timorous Germans not to despair. Rome chooses to hold to the thesis that a prosperous Italy depends on a prosperous Germany, and no outsider is qualified to dispute such a point of view. Somehow Italy manages to suggest a similar thought to England. A prosperous England depends on a prosperous Germany. The British trade depression is thought to be due to the destructive policy of the French. The question of the