“I hope so,” said his friend; “but you see, my dear monsignore, the question with us is not so simple as you put It. The secret societies will not tolerate another Roman interference, to say nothing of the diplomatic hubbub, which we might, if necessary, defy; but what if, taking advantage of the general indignation, your new kingdom of Italy may seize the golden opportunity of making a popular reputation, and declare herself the champion of national independence against the interference of the foreigner? My friend, we tread on delicate ground.” “If Rome falls, not an existing dynasty in Europe will survive five years,” said Berwick. “It may be so,” said his companion, but with no expression of incredulity. “You know how consistently and anxiously I have always labored to support the authority of the Holy See, and to maintain its territorial position as the guarantee of its independence; but Fate has decided against us. I cannot indulge in the belief that his holiness will ever regain his lost provinces; a capital without a country is an apparent anomaly, which I fear will always embarrass us. We can treat the possession as the capital of Christendom, but, alas! all the world are not as good Christians as ourselves, and Christendom is a country no longer marked out in the map of the world. I wish,” continued the gentleman in a tone almost coaxing—“I wish we could devise some plan which, humanly speaking, would secure to his holiness the possession of his holy throne forever. I wish I could induce you to consider more favorably that suggestion, that his holiness should content himself with the ancient city, and, in possession of St. Peter’s and the Vatican, leave the rest of Rome to the vulgar cares and the mundane anxieties of the transient generation. Yes,” he added with energy, “if, my dear Berwick, you could see your way to this, or something like this, I think even now and at once, I could venture to undertake that the emperor, my master, would soon put an end to all these disturbances and dangers, and that—” “Non possumus,” said Berwick, sternly stopping him; “sooner than that Attila, the Constable of Bourbon, or the blasphemous orgies of the Red Republic! After all, it is the Church against the secret societies. They are the only two strong things in Europe, and will survive kings, emperors, or parliaments.” At this moment there was a tap at the door, and, bidden to enter, Mr. Clifford presented himself with a sealed paper, for the gentleman in evening dress. “Your secretary, sir, brought this, which he said must be given you before you went to the ambassador.” “‘Tis well,” said the gentleman, and he rose, and with a countenance of some excitement read the paper, which contained a telegram; and then he said: “This, I think, will help us out of our immediate difficulties, my dear monsignore. Rattazzi has behaved like a man of sense, and has arrested Garibaldi. But you do not seem, my friend, as pleased as I should have anticipated.”