The eyes of all Christendom are upon you, as the most favoured of men, and you stand there like St. Thomas." '"Perhaps he was bewildered, as I am," said Lothair. '"Well, his bewilderment ended in his becoming an apostle, as yours will. I am glad we have had this conversation, and that we agree. I knew we should. To-morrow the Holy Father will himself receive you into the bosom of the Church. Christendom will then hail you as its champion and regenerator."' Conscious that he was the victim of a lying conspiracy, yet as if his will was magnetised, he finds himself driven to the slaughter, 'a renegade without conviction.' He is virtually a prisoner, but he contrives at night to pass the Palace gate, wander about the ghostly city, and at last into the Coliseum, where Benvenuto Cellini had seen a vision of devils, and Lothair imagines that he sees Theodora, who reminds him of her warning. He is brought back, senseless, by a spiritual sleuth-hound who had been sent after him; and the result was, that on the morning which was to have made the unfortunate Lord of Muriel a Papist against his will, he is visited by an English doctor, 'who abhorred priests, and did not particularly admire ladies.' He is ordered instant change of scene, and is sent to Sicily--still in the custody of 'familiars'; but he evades their vigilance, embarks in a fishing-boat, reaches Malta and an English yacht--and thenceforward his fortunes brighten again. He visits the Greek islands. Of course he must go to Jerusalem--all Disraeli's heroes who want spiritual comfort are sent to Jerusalem--not, however, any longer to see visions of angels, but to find a 'Paraclete' in a Syrian Christian from the Lake of Gennesaret, an Ebionite of the primitive type, whose religion was a simple following of Christ. In recovered health of mind and body, Lothair returns to England, where he finds the world as he had left it. He supposes his adventures would be on everyone's lips. His acquaintances ask him, coolly, what he has been doing with himself, and how long he has been in town. The Cardinal is again gliding through the gilded drawing-rooms, but ignores the Roman incident as if it had never been. Miss Arundel subsides into her sacred vocation. The hero, freed from further persecution, marries the beautiful daughter of the duke, who had been the object of his boyish affection--a lady, needless to say, of staunchest Protestant integrity.