“I am ardent, my general, perhaps too sanguine, but I have no self-love, at least none when the interests of the great cause are at stake. Tell me, then, their names, and count, if required, on my cooperation.” “Garibaldi and Mary-Anne.” “A Polchinello and a Bayadere!” exclaimed Mirandola, and, springing from his seat, he impatiently paced the room. “And yet,” continued the general calmly, “there is no manner of doubt that Garibaldi is the only name that could collect ten thousand men at any given point in Italy; while in France, though her influence is mythical, the name of Mary-Anne is a name of magic. Though never mentioned, it is never forgotten. And the slightest allusion to it among the initiated will open every heart. There are more secret societies in France at this moment than at any period since ‘85, though you hear nothing of them; and they believe in Mary-Anne, and in nothing else.” “You have been at Caprera?” said Mirandola. “I have been at Caprera.” “And what did he say?” “He will do nothing without the sanction of the Savoyard.” “He wants to get wounded in his other foot,” said Mirandola, with savage sarcasm. “Will he never weary of being betrayed?” “I found him calm and sanguine,” said the general. “What of the woman?” “Garibaldi will not move without the Savoyard, and Mary-Anne will not move without Garibaldi; that is the situation.” “Have you seen her?” “Not yet; I have been to Caprera, and I have come over to see her and you. Italy is ready for the move, and is only waiting for the great man. He will not act without the Savoyard; he believes in him. I will not be skeptical. There are difficulties enough without imagining any. We have no money, and all our sources of supply are drained; but we have the inspiration of a sacred cause, we have you—we may gain others—and, at any rate, the French are no longer at Rome.” CHAPTER 33 “The Goodwood Cup, my lord—the Doncaster. This pair of flagons for his highness the Khedive—something quite new—yes, parcel-gilt, the only style now—it gives relief to design—yes, by Monti, a great man, hardly inferior to Flaxman, if at all. Flaxman worked for Rundell and Bridge in the old days—one of the principal causes of their success. Your lordship’s gold service was supplied by Rundell and Bridge. Very fine service indeed, much by Flaxman—nothing of that kind seen now.” “I never did see it,” said Lothair. He was replying to Mr. Ruby, a celebrated jeweller and goldsmith, in a celebrated street, who had saluted him when he had entered the shop, and called the attention of Lothair to a group of treasures of art. “Strange,” said Mr. Ruby smiling. “It is in the next room, if your lordship would like to see it. I think your lordship should see your gold service. Mr. Putney Giles ordered it here to be examined and put in order.” “I should like to see it very much,” said Lothair, “though I came to speak to you about something else.”