The palace of the Princess Tarpeia was the most celebrated in Rome, one of the most ancient, and certainly the most beautiful. She dwelt in it in a manner not unworthy of her consular blood and her modern income. To-night her guests were received by a long line of foot-servants in showy liveries, and bearing the badge of her house, while in every convenient spot pages and gentlemen-ushers, in courtly dress, guided the guests to their place of destination. The palace blazed with light, and showed to advantage the thousand pictures which, it is said, were there enshrined, and the long galleries full of the pale statues of Grecian gods and goddesses, and the busts of the former rulers of Rome and the Romans. The atmosphere was fragrant with rare odors, and music was heard, amid the fall of fountains, in the dim but fancifully-illumined gardens. The princess herself wore all those famous jewels which had been spared by all the Goths from the days of Brennus to those of Garibaldi, and on her bosom reposed the celebrated transparent cameo of Augustus, which Caesar himself is said to have presented to Livia, and which Benvenuto Cellini had set in a framework of Cupids and rubies. If the weight of her magnificence were sometimes distressing, she had the consolation of being supported by the arm of Lothair. Two young Roman princes, members of the Guarda Nobile, discussed the situation. “The English here say,” said one, “that he is their richest man.” “And very noble, too,” said the other. “Certainly, truly noble—a kind of cousin of the queen.” “This great event must have an effect upon all their nobility. I cannot doubt they will all return to the Holy Father.” “They would if they were not afraid of having to restore their church lands. But they would be much more happy if Rome were again the capital of the world.” “No shadow of doubt. I wonder if this young prince will hunt in the Campagna?” “All Englishmen hunt.” “I make no doubt he rides well, and has famous horses, and will sometimes lend us one. I am glad his soul is saved.” “Yes; it is well, when the Blessed Virgin interferes, it should be in favor of princes. When princes become good Christians, it is an example. It does good. And this man will give an impulse to our opera, which wants it, and, as you say, he will have many horses.” In the course of the evening, Miss Arundel, with a beaming face, but of deep expression, said to Lothair: “I could tell you some good news, had I not promised the cardinal that he should communicate it to you himself. He will see you to-morrow. Although it does not affect me personally, it will be to me the happiest event that ever occurred, except, of course, one.” “What can she mean?” thought Lothair. But at that moment Cardinal Berwick approached him, and Miss Arundel glided away. Father Coleman attended Lothair home to the Agostini Palace, and when they parted said, with much emphasis, “I must congratulate you once more on the great event.”