he date of Italy's liberty. I have had a
great deal of influence with the count"--she was serious again by this
time--"and through him over the Italian revolutionists in London, and I
have always counselled them not to strike until they were sure of their
aim. An unsuccessful revolution is a crime. You think it strange that a
girl should be thinking of these things."

"Indeed, no," I answered. "I should think it strange in your case if you
had no such thoughts. And let me tell you, Miss Rossano, that I think
your friend Count Rumano's dream is coming near at last. He may wake any
fine morning to find it very near indeed."

"You think so?" she cried, with a restrained vehemence. "You have heard
news while you were abroad?"

"No news," I answered; "but I can see the general trend of things. There
is an awakening spirit of liberty on the Continent, and unless I am much
mistaken, a map of Europe of this date will be a surprising thing to
look at in half a dozen years."

I should be a fool to pretend that I foresaw all the political changes
which have taken place since then, but I should have been blind if I
had not foreseen some of them. Liberty was in the air; there was an
underlying strife and turmoil in the world's affairs which was not
evident to everybody, though a soldier of fortune like myself, who made
the cause of liberty his trade, was bound to be aware of it. The great
politicians knew it all, no doubt; but they kept their knowledge to
themselves, and waited, as we know now, with a bitter anxiety and fear
for what events might bring. For the great politicians were, for the
most part, then, as now, afraid of liberty, and looked on it as being
very much of a curse rather than a blessing.

"You would fight for Italy," she said, "if there were a real chance?"

"If there were anything approaching a chance," I responded, "I would
fight for Italy."

If I had dared I would have told her what was really at the bottom of my
thought: I would have fought gladly for Italy; but the fact that it was
her cause, that she espoused it and hoped for it, that her father had
been buried alive for it, made it dearer to me than any other in the
world. I had almost forgotten that we were not alone when the Baroness
Bonnar proclaimed her presence.

"Italy!" she cried; and as I turned at the sound of her voice I saw her
bring the palms of her gloved hands together and turn her fine eyes to
the ceiling as if the word inspired her--