cathedral of the city of Vallanza, where the descendants of St. Guy
still reign as lieutenants of the Sovereign Pontiff.'--There,"
concluded Susanna, with a little laugh, "that is the Reverend Alban
Butler's account of the matter."

"I stand dumb with admiration," professed Anthony, his upcast hand
speaking volumes, "before your powers of memory. Fancy being able to
quote Alban Butler word for word, like that!"

"When I was young," Susanna explained, "I was made by my English
governess to learn many of Butler's Lives by heart, and, as an Ilarian,
the Life of San Guido interested me particularly. He was canonised, by
the way, by Adrian the Fourth--the English Pope. As a consequence of
that, the Valdeschi have always had a great fondness for England, and
have often married English wives--English Catholics, of course. An
Englishwoman was Countess of Sampaolo when the end came, the patchwork
end."

"Ah, yes," said Anthony, "the patchwork end--tell me about that."

"The end," Susanna answered, "was an act of shameful treachery on the
part of one of the descendants of San Guido towards another, his
immediate kinsman, and the rightful head of the family. And now it is
melodrama and opera-bouffe as much as ever you will. It is a
revolution in a tea-cup. It is the ancient story of the Wicked Uncle."

"Yes?" said Anthony.

"It is perfectly trite," said Susanna, "and it would be perfectly
absurd, if it were n't rather tragic, or perfectly tragic, if it were
n't rather absurd."

She thought for a moment. Anthony waited, attentive.

"In 1850," she narrated, "Count Antonio the Seventeenth died, leaving a
widow, who was English, and an only son, a lad of twelve, who should
naturally have succeeded his father as Guido the Eleventh. But Count
Antonio had a younger brother, also named Guido, who coveted the
succession for himself, and had long been intriguing to secure
it--organising secret societies among the people, to further the idea
of Italian unity, and bargaining with the King of Sardinia for the
price he should receive if he contrived to bring the Sampaolesi to give
up their independence. Well," she went on, with a slight effect of
effort, "while his brother lay dying, Guido, spying his opportunity,
was especially active. 'Now,' he said to the people, 'is the time to
strike. If, at my brother's death, his son succeeds him, we shall have
a regency, and the regent will be a foreigner and a woman. Now is the