I listened with deep emotion to the noble young King as he unfolded his scheme, a scheme in which it was evident that he intended himself to be the sacrifice which would procure peace. At the same time I perceived certain difficulties in the way. The successors of St. Peter, in modern times at all events, had been accustomed to rule over their limited dominions as absolute monarchs. Was it to be hoped that they would consent to accept a constitutional authority in exchange, even though that authority extended over the whole peninsula? Yet the See of Rome, as suzerain of Italy, would be able to re-enter the field of international politics as a great Power. Alliances might follow which would place the Pope in the position of president over a great Catholic league embracing Austria, Spain, Portugal, Belgium, and possibly France as well, to say nothing of the powerful leverage which the Church was able to exercise over the policy of semi-Catholic powers, such as Germany, Great Britain, and the United States. Carried away by these dazzling visions, I exclaimed aloud-- ‘I believe in your Majesty! If only the new Pope will accept your plans!’ King Victor flushed with gratification at my outburst. ‘That is the task I am going to intrust to you,’ he announced. ‘I have made careful inquiries, and I believe there is one Cardinal who, if he were elected, would be likely to welcome my overtures.’ ‘And his name, sire?’ ‘Cardinal Sarto, the Patriarch-Archbishop of Venice.’ My face fell. I had scarcely heard of his Eminence of Venice by name. Certainly he was not among those cardinals--the _Papabili_, as they are termed--whose candidature was taken seriously by the ecclesiastical politicians of the Vatican. ‘Is Cardinal Sarto a possible candidate, sire?’ I ventured to object. ‘You must make him so,’ King Victor said earnestly. ‘I rely on you to secure his election.’ Although not lacking in self-confidence, I shrank before this tremendous task. Apart from my scruples as a Catholic--and I was by no means sure how far it was lawful for a layman to interfere in a Papal election--I doubted my power to influence the choice of the Sacred College in the short time at my disposal. ‘In ten days from now the Conclave will begin,’ I murmured reflectively. ‘I know it,’ broke in Victor Emmanuel. ‘I want you to be present in the Conclave as my secret agent.’ I trembled. The secrecy of the Conclave is guarded with the greatest care. In what way could I possibly gain admission to the private deliberations of the Cardinals? The King answered my unspoken doubts. ‘In ten days the Cardinals will enter the Conclave, each with a single attendant, and the door will be walled up, not to be reopened until Christendom again has a Pope. It is necessary for you to be inside that walled-up door.’ ‘I must enter in the character of attendant to one of the Cardinals!’ I exclaimed. ‘You must enter as the servant of Cardinal Salvatierra,’ his Majesty declared.