The Alberian Ambassador informed Mr. Disraeli that there was nothing to fear because Parflete was not ambitious. "The corruption of egoism and the insatiable love of pleasure" had done its worst to a character never striking for its energy. He would "desert" his wife again if she would give him a sufficient sum. Mrs. Parflete, Disraeli pointed out, was the last woman on earth to agree to such terms. She was also perfectly well aware, he added, that she was the legitimate daughter of the late Archduke Charles. "But," said the Ambassador, "surely she will love the glory of her country and the respect due to her Imperial father's memory far better than her own legal rights?" "You can't narrow the question to a mere sentimental issue," said Disraeli. "It is no such thing. She has to defend her character. Orange must clear his reputation." Disraeli had formed the opinion that Alberia--as represented by His Excellency--was by no means anxious to see Mrs. Parflete's innocence established; that, in fact, the whole disaster had been planned and executed in the sole design of compromising her status. All that had occurred, all that he had observed led him to this conviction more and more. It was decided that Brigit should be summoned at once from Paris to take up her residence at the Convent, where she had been well protected during the earlier part of the year. "There is to be no appeal _ad misericordiam_," wrote Disraeli to Orange: "what you have done, you have done in good faith and perfect honesty. Parflete, beyond a doubt, will take some action. His conscience provides him, in this difficulty, with the best means of self-advertisement he has yet found. He has consulted several Bishops, the Lord Chief Justice, all the ambassadors, and most of the intelligent Peers. He wanders from one confessional to another: St. Philip, St. Teresa, St. Benedict, and St. Dominic are invoked perpetually for the disarmament of his scruples. Vanity blinds him to the danger of assassination. Alberia is in a red mood. _Carissime_, the dark, inevitable hour will come. Be prepared for it. Depend entirely now on the might of your religious belief. Men cannot assist you. I have helped many, but no one has ever helped me. Political life must be taken as you find it, and it is neither in my disposition, nor, I am sure, in yours, to indulge in complaints of unkindness. I have reached a point now when I should like to quote Dante. Consider him quoted, and believe me, "Ever yours, "D." The course of the intrigue may be followed most conveniently at this point in the document known as Mudara's Confession.