Leaving all to Morris, and rightly conjecturing that he would open the subject we came upon at the fitting time, I attacked a grouse-pie most vigorously, and helped myself freely to his Excellency's Bordeaux. There were all manner of good things, and we did them ample justice, even to the Unpaid himself, who certainly seemed to take out in prog what they denied him in salary. Sir Alexander made all the running as to talk. He rattled away about Turks and Russians,--affairs home and foreign,--the Ministry and the Opposition,--who was to go next to some vacant embassy, and who was to be the prima donna at the Pergola. Then came Florence gossip,--an amusing chapter; but perhaps--as they say in the police reports--not quite fit for publication. His Excellency had seen the girls at the races, and complimented me on their good looks, and felicitated the city on the accession of so much beauty. At last Morris broke ground, and related the story of Mrs. D.'s captivity. Sir Alex--who had by this time lighted his cigar--stood with his hands in his dressing-gown pockets, and his back to the fire, the most calm and impassive of listeners. "They are so stupid, these people," said he at last, puffing his weed between each word; "won't take the trouble to look before them--won't examine--won't investigate--a charge. Mrs. Dodd a Catholic too?" "A most devout and conscientious one!" said I. "Great bore for the moment, no doubt; but--try a cheroot, they 're milder--but, as I was saying, to be amply recompensed hereafter. There's nothing they won't do in the way of civility and attention to make amends for this outrage." "Meanwhile, as to her liberation?" said Morris. "Ah! that _is_ a puzzle. No use writing to Ministers, you know. That's all lost time. Official correspondence--only invented to train up our youth--like Lord Dolly, there. Must try what can be done with Bradelli." "And who is Bradelli, your Excellency?" "Bradelli is Private Secretary to the Cardinal Boncelli, at Rome." "But we are in Tuscany." "Geographically speaking, so we are. But leave it to me, Mr. Dodd. No time shall be lost. Draw up a note, Dolly, to the Prince Cigalaroso. You have a mem. in the Chancellerie will do very well. The English are always in scrapes, and it is always the same: 'Mon cher Prince,--Je regrette infiniment que mes devoirs m'imposent,' &c., &c, with a full account of the 'fâcheux incident,'--that's the phrase, mind that, Dolly; do everything necessary for the Blue Book, and in the meanwhile take care that Mrs. D. is out of prison before the day is over."