‘This bit is from a sketch called “Mons Sacer,”’ she said; ‘it is not the one about the walls. He says: “We set out along the Via Nomentana; we pass by the gimcrack Colosseum of the Prince; we pass by the two churches which have fared in such opposite ways at infallible hands; we ask ourselves the purpose of the ruin which stands in their close neighbourhood, and which, like so many others, bears the name of Maxentius. But this time we do not turn back when we have reached the basilica.... We are seeking a spot which tells us of days when as yet Rome had no prince but her Princeps Senatus; no pontiff but the head of the religion of Jupiter and Minerva. But before we altogether cast the modern world behind us, we are forcibly reminded of its presence as we cross the modern substitute for Appian and Flaminian Ways, the network of railways which carry out the saying that all roads lead to Rome. Nor is the reminder out of place,”’ Minna read slowly, and with emphasis; ‘“the great works of ancient and modern engineering skill have much in common. There is a likeness sometimes in their actual appearance--always in the mighty spirit of enterprise, the boundless command of physical resources, which is common to both and unknown to intermediate ages.”’ She paused and looked at him, half closing the book. His eyes gleamed with delight. ‘Bene, bene!’ he exclaimed. ‘Who is this man, this splendid fellow? I could embrace him. No whining over modern progress as destructive of ancient grandeur. This man takes hold of the thing at the right end.’ ‘Oh, there is plenty of abuse--of things and people he doesn’t like!’ said Minna, laughing, and feeling excited and pleased. ‘Popes, for instance; and Barberini and Borghesi meet with short shrift from him.’ ‘All the better; that is still more after my own heart. If he had included kings and princes in the list, better still. But go on!’