The Baron, however, feared that her course might be fraught with evil consequences to the whole neighborhood, as he thought that her fleeing to Switzerland might awaken a panic. To me, it seemed as if he were trying to justify his course in allowing her to leave. I assured him that no one doubted his patriotism, and he begged me not to divulge what he had told me. I succeeded in reassuring him, and he seemed to recover from his depression. He felt that I fully sympathized with him. And can anything be sadder than to find that one's love of country is opposed and ridiculed in his own home? The antagonism which had so long been veiled under courteous forms, now broke forth with redoubled venom and fury. "Your hearty sympathy does me good," said the Baron; "and I feel like a changed being since I have unbosomed myself to you--just as if I had withdrawn my hand from a bleeding wound, which can now flow freely." I understood him. Grief which has been long repressed, and at last finds vent in words, renews itself while the sufferer speaks of it. When I mentioned this to him, he took my hand and held it in his for a long while. "But we must not think of our own little lives," he added; "great questions now claim us. If France should fail of success, she is still France; but if we meet with defeat, we shall become the prey of others." I learned from him, for the first time, that the opposing bishops had handed in a protest against the promulgation of the doctrine of Papal infallibility, and that, as the measure had been determined on, in spite of their protest, they had left Rome. When I told him of what had happened in the city--omitting, of course, all mention of my interviews with the Prince--his features assumed an expression of cheerfulness. He was about to leave, when Martella entered, and asked, "May I show it to the Baron?" Before I could answer her question, she took the letter of pardon from her satchel and spread it out on the table, at the same time saying that Rothfuss and Ikwarte were foolish enough to think that it was of no account, because it came from so petty a prince. Baron Arven assured her that the paper would be of immense importance, if Ernst could be found again. "Now I shall not ask another person," joyfully exclaimed Martella; "that seals it doubly--and just see how nicely it fits into my little satchel!" She replaced it in the satchel and rubbed her hands over the embroidery, which represented a dog carrying a bird between his teeth.