the smallest effect on events; but she
never to the very end relinquished the illusion she cherished so dearly,
that she was really and truly a conspirator, and that if any one of her
light-headed acquaintance betrayed the rest, they might all be ordered
out of Rome in four-and-twenty hours, or might even disappear into that
long range of dark buildings to the left of the colonnade of St. Peter's,
martyrs to the cause of their own self-importance and semi-theatrical
vanity. There were many knots of such self-fancied conspirators in those
days, whose wildest deed of daring was to whisper across a glass of
champagne in a ball-room, or over a tumbler of Velletri wine in a
Trasteverine cellar, the magic and awe-inspiring words, "Viva Garibaldi!
Viva Vittorio!" They accomplished nothing. The same men and women are now
grumbling and regretting the flesh-pots of the old Government, or
whispering in impotent discontent "Viva la Repubblica!" and they and
their descendants will go on whispering something to each other to the
end of time, while mightier hands than theirs are tearing down empires
and building up irresistible coalitions, and drawing red pencil-marks
through the geography of Europe.

The conspirators of those days accomplished nothing after Pius IX.
returned from Gaeta; the only men who were of any use at all were those
who, like Del Ferice, had sources of secret information, and basely sold
their scraps of news. But even they were of small importance. The moment
had not come, and all the talking and whispering and tale-bearing in the
world could not hasten events, nor change their course. But Donna Tullia
was puffed up with a sense of her importance, and Del Ferice managed to
attract just as much attention to his harmless chatter about progress as
would permit him undisturbed to carry on his lucrative traffic in secret
information.

Donna Tullia, who was not in the least artistic, and who by no means
appreciated the merits of the portrait Gouache was painting, was very far
from comprehending his definition of artistic comparison; but Del Ferice
understood it very well. Donna Tullia had much foreign blood in her
veins, like most of her class; but Del Ferice's obscure descent was in
all probability purely Italian, and he had inherited the common instinct
in matters of art which is a part of the Italian birthright. He had
recognised Gouache's wonderful talent, and had first brought Donna Tullia
to his studio--a matte