"Yes," said Muzio, who had been muttering the word "endurance" ever since it was spoken by Julia--"yes, but patience is the virtue of the ass. We Romans have had too much of it; we have been, and still are superabundantly asinine. It is a disgrace to us that we still tolerate the roost iniquitous and degrading of human tyrannies, and suffer the priests to be our jailers." "And is this island from which you come far off?" inquired the gentle Silvia, who was thinking most about the dear companion of her life. "Could we not go and pass a few days there?" "Nothing is easier," answered Julia, to whom the question was put. "We are close to the frontier, we have only to cross it, and make our way to Leghorn, where the _Seagull_ is lying, and sail from thence to the island, which is not far distant. But you must also know of the marriage of Captain Thompson and your friend Aurelia, which took place lately in that solitary retreat in the simple patriarchal manner, for there are no priests there." "Per _la grazia di Dio!_" here exclaimed Orazio to himself, rising and stretching his athletic figure to its full height, as he cast a look to the western extremity of the wood. "What are these fresh arrivals?" whereupon they all saw advancing towards them a robust youth, accompanied by a beautiful girl, not much his junior, but upon whose melancholy face the traces of suffering and misfortune were too plainly visible. The new-comers were quickly perceived to be Silvio and Camilla; and here it should be known that our hunter, after the decision of the Liberals to abandon the Roman suburbs, went to bid farewell to his unhappy mistress, whom he could not cease to love, before setting out for the north. Arriving at Marcello's house, he was welcomed as usual by Fido and Marcellino, and found Camilla kneeling, as was her daily habit, beside her father's grave. "Just God! can another's crime plunge a simple and innocent soul into misery and madness for life?" thought Silvio, as he regarded the prostrate girl, and almost unconsciously he prayed aloud, "Oh, heaven! restore her reason, and to me the star of my life!" Camilla turned at these words with a look first of fright, then of a new and wonderful tenderness. It was plain that that compassionate and forgiving prayer had caused the inmost fibres of her heart to vibrate, and, obeying a mighty and impulsive instinct, she sank into the old sweet sanctuary of her lover's arms. With their heads hidden on each other's breasts, they dispensed with explanations--they made no new vows--mighty love was healer and interpreter. Tears fell fast from Camilla's eyes, but not sad tears now. A great sorrow and a bitter sin had dethroned her reason--a great pardon and a noble love set it back again in its happy seat. CHAPTER XLV. THE HONOR OF THE FLAG