‘For goodness’ sake, Sybert, I don’t know how much influence you have, or anything about it, but do what you can to keep things quiet. Of course the government has made mistakes—as what government has not? But until there’s something better to be substituted there’s no use kicking. Plainly, the people are too ignorant to govern themselves, and the House of Savoy is the only means of salvation.’ Sybert waved his hand impatiently. ‘I haven’t been trying to undermine the government, I assure you. I know well enough that for a good many years to come Italy won’t have anything better to offer, and all my influence with the Italians—which naturally isn’t much—has been advice of the same nature. I know very well that if any radical change were attempted, only anarchy would result; so I counsel these poor starving beggars “patience” like a skulking coward.’ ‘Very well; I don’t see then why you have any objection to keeping on with your counsel, and at the same time give them something to eat.’ ‘It’s the looks of the thing—standing up openly on the side of the authorities when I’m not with them in sympathy.’ ‘It’s a long sight better for a person in your position than standing up openly against the authorities.’ ‘Oh, as for that, I’m thinking of resigning from the legation, and then I’ll be free to do as I please.’ Melville laid his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. ‘Sybert, you may resign from the legation, but you’re still your uncle’s nephew. You can’t resign from that. Whatever you did would cast discredit on him. He’s an old man, and he’s fond of you. Don’t be a fool. An American has no business mixing up in these Italian broils; Italy must work out her own salvation without the help of foreigners. Garibaldi was right—“_Italia farà da se_.”’ ‘“_Italia farà da se_,”’ he repeated. ‘I suppose it’s true enough. Italy must in the end do for herself, and no outsider can be of any help—but I shall at least have tried.’ ‘My dear fellow, if you will let me speak plainly, the best thing you can do for yourself and your family, for America and Italy, is, as you say, to resign from the legation—and go home.’ ‘Go home!’ Sybert raised his head, with a little laugh, but with a flash underneath of the real self which he kept so carefully hidden from the world. ‘I was born in Italy; I was brought up here, just as little Gerald Copley is being brought up. I have lived here all my life, except for half a dozen years or so while I was being educated. All my interests, all my sympathies, are in Italy, and you ask me to _go home_! I have no other home to go to. If you take Italy away from me, I’m a man without a country.’