ight was late.
When at last Ruffiano left us, the count detained me.

"The world is full of changes," he said, "and no man knows what may
happen. We may never meet again, Fyffe, and I have a solemn charge to
leave you. If I am caught again they will make short work of me. I do
not mean to be caught if I can help it, but I know the risk I run.
If anything should happen to me, I counsel you, for Violet's sake, to
retire from The Cause. She cannot spare us both, and Italy has no claim
on you."

I suppose the surprise I felt at receiving such advice from such a
quarter showed itself in my face, for he went on with a smile:

"I see you wonder at me, but I have had time to think since Violet spoke
out her mind this afternoon. A man may have a cause and may set it above
everything in the world, but a woman sees an individual--her father--her
lover--her brother--her husband--a baby--any solitary human trifle--and
to her the one individual is more valuable than any ideal. You will do
as I wish, Fyffe?"

"No!" I answered. "I am pledged, and I will carry out my promise. I
should despise myself and Violet would despise me if I went back from
it."

"Well, well," he answered, and I could not tell from his manner whether
he was pleased or displeased at my reply, "we are all in God's hands.
Good-night, and good-bye. We shall not meet again for a little while, in
any case."

CHAPTER XIV

The count had been gone a week, and of course no news was as yet to
be looked for. He had sailed with Quorn for some undecided part of the
Italian coast, and we had resigned ourselves to hear no more of him for
at least another fortnight. We were all busy enough at this time, and
news favorable to our enterprise came on us thick and fast every day.

This is no place for a history of the last Italian revolution. That
story has never yet been fitly told, but it will furnish a splendid
epic one of these days for a great historian. It came like a beneficent
earthquake, with toil and trouble and turmoil enough, and it stirred up
all Europe, and shook down many unjust forms of government. To my mind
it is the happiest and most beautiful event in the modern history of
Europe, for the revolution, though it was effected with the sternest
purpose and the most unflinching heroism, was marked by none of the
excesses of revenge and hatred which have disfigured so many popular
risings against tyranny.

I had been hard at work until three o'clock in