“Do you imagine that the nobles will ever sustain the monarchy, my dear Maitland; or in what country have you ever found that the highest in class were freest of their blood? It is Giacomo, and the men like him, who defend kings to-day that they may menace them to-morrow. These fellows know well that with what is called a constitutional government and a parliament the king's life signifies next to nothing, and their own trade is worthless. They might as well shoot a President of the Court of Cassation! Besides, if we do not treat with these men, the others will. Take my word for it, our king is wiser than either of us, and he never despised the Caraorra. But I know what you 're afraid of, Maitland,” said he, laughing,--“what you and all your countrymen tremble before,--that precious thing you call public opinion, and your 'Times' newspaper! There's the whole of it. To be arraigned as a regicide, and called the companion of this, that, or t' other creature, who was or ought to have been guillotined, is too great a shock for your Anglican respectability; and really I had fancied you were Italian enough to take a different view of this.” Maitland leaned his head on his hand, and seemed to muse for some minutes. “Do you know, Carlo,” said he, at last, “I don't think I 'm made for this sort of thing. This fraternizing with scoundrels--for scoundrels they are--is a rude lesson. This waiting for the _mot d'ordre_ from a set of fellows who work in the dark is not to my humor. I had hoped for a fair stand-up fight, where the best man should win; and what do we see before us? Not the cause of a throne defended by the men who are loyal to their king, but a vast lottery, out of which any adventurer is to draw the prize. So far as I can see it, we are to go into a revolution to secure a monarchy.” Caffarelli leaned across the table and filled Maitland's glass to the brim, and then replenished his own. “_Caro mio_,” said he, coaxingly, “don't brood and despond in this fashion, but tell me about this charming Irish beauty. Is she a brunette?” “No; fair as a lily, but not like the blond damsels you have so often seen, with a certain timidity of look that tells of weak and uncertain purpose. She might by her air and beauty be a queen.” “And her name?” “Alice--Alicia, some call it.” “Alice is better. And how came she to be a widow so very young? What is her story?” “I know nothing of it; how should I? I could tell nothing of my own,” said Maitland, sternly. “Rich as well as beautiful,--what a prize, Maitland! I can scarcely imagine why you hesitate about securing it.” Maitland gave a scornful laugh, and with a voice of bitterness said: “Certainly my pretensions are great. I have fortune--station-- family--name--and rank to offer her. Can you not remind me, Carlo, of some other of my immense advantages?” “I know this much,” said the other, doggedly, “that I never saw you fail in anything you ever attempted.”