‘I’m not likely to shout them abroad under the present régime. And as to this infernal committee—oh, well, I’ll think about it.’ ‘Very well; think favourably. It’s the only way to help, remember—and very good policy into the bargain. Some day, my boy, maybe you’ll grow sensible. Good-bye.’ Sybert paced up and down the room for five or ten minutes after Melville had left, and then picked up his hat and started out again. Turning toward the Piazza Barberini, he strode along, scowling unconsciously at the passers-by. He bowed mechanically to the people who bowed to him. Along the Corso he met the procession of carriages going toward the Pincio. Ladies nodded graciously; they even half-turned to look after him. But he was quite unaware of it; his thoughts were not with the portion of Roman society which rode in carriages. He traversed the Corso and plunged into the tangle of more or less dirty streets on the left bank of the Tiber. Here the crowds who elbowed their way along the narrow sidewalks were more poorly dressed. After some twenty minutes’ walking he turned into a narrow street in the region of the grimy ruins of the theatre of Marcellus, and paused before the doorway of a wine-shop which bore upon its front the ambitious title, _‘Osteria del Popolo Italiano_—Tarquinio Paterno.’ With a barely perceptible glance over his shoulder, he stepped into the dingy little café which opened from the street. The front room, with its square wooden tables and stiff-backed chairs, was empty, except for Madame Tarquinio Paterno, who was sweeping the floor. Sybert nodded to her, and crossing the room to the rear door, which opened into the _cucina_, knocked twice. The door opened a crack for purposes of examination, and then was thrown wide to admit him. The room which was revealed was a stone-walled kitchen, lighted in the rear by a small-paned window opening on to a gloomy court-yard. ‘Lighted’ is scarcely the word to use, for between the dirt on the panes and the dimness of the court, very little daylight struggled in. But the interior was not dreary. A charcoal fire blazing on the high stone hearth shot up fiercely every now and then, throwing grotesque high lights on the faces of the men grouped about the room.