“Then there is not a moment to be lost,” cried the Abbé, impetuously. “A cession of the Milanais means a Republic of Upper Italy,--the downfall of the Popedom,--the rule of infidelity over the Peninsula. Are _we_--are _you_ prepared for this? Enough has been done to show that Italian 'unity' is a fiction. Let us complete the lesson by proving that they cannot meet the Austrian in arms. The present generation, at least, will not forget the chastisement, if it be but heavy enough.” “We may leave that task to the Imperialists,” said the Prince, with a cold smile. “I do not think so. I know too much of German sluggishness and apathy. The reinforcements, that should pour in like a flood, creep lazily along. The dread of France--the old terror of those wars that once crushed them--is still uppermost. They know not how far Europe will permit them to punish a rebellious province; and while they hesitate, they give time for the growth of that public opinion that will condemn them.” “Perhaps you are right,” said the Russian, as he sipped his coffee carelessly. “And if I be,” cried D'Esmonde, passionately, “are we to sit tranquilly here till the ruin overtake us? Will Russia wait till the flame of a red republic throws its lurid glare over Europe, and even gleam over the cold waters of the Neva? Is it her wish, or to her benefit, that the flag of the democrat and the infidel is to float over the Continent?” “You conjured up the monster yourself, Monsignore. It is for you to order him back to the depths he came from.” “And we are ready for the task,” said the priest. “We fostered this revolt, because we saw it was better to lop off a diseased limb than to suffer the gangrene to spread over the entire body; better to cast down into utter perdition the wild democrats, who but half believed us, than peril the countless millions of true Catholics. Nay, more, we acted with your counsel and concurrence. That revolt has already borne its fruits. Men see no issue to the struggle they are engaged in. The men of moderation are overborne by the wild clamor of the factionist. Anarchy is amongst them, and now is our moment to bid the contest cease, and earn from mankind the glorious epithet of 'peacemaker.' The tide of victory once turned, see how the mind of Europe will turn with it. Good wishes are prone to go with the battalions that advance!” “Good wishes are not too costly a sympathy,” said the Russian, coolly.