ove all things, you must find a lady to
take you under her protection, and that, I think, can be effected.
Citizen Scalcagnato issues all the passports for those that leave the
city by the Colosseum gate. From him I have learned that the Countess
X---- is to leave for the south to-night. I have obtained a pass for
you, and you have only to make yourself ready and go with me to
the Colosseum gate, where we will wait for her carriage. She is
a good friend of yours and cannot refuse to take you as her
travelling-companion. Do you approve my plan?"

"Yes, and I thank you."

"Then a few hours hence will see you on your journey southward. I shall
set out for the north, and soon the length of Italy will separate us. Is
it not best so?"

Blanka gave him her hand in mute assent.

* * * * *

An hour later Manasseh and Blanka stood in the shelter of the gateway by
which the countess was expected to leave Rome. They had not long to
wait: the sound of an approaching carriage was soon heard, and when it
halted under the gas-lamp Blanka recognised her friend's equipage. The
gate-keeper advanced to examine the traveller's passport, and as the
carriage door was thrown open Blanka hastened forward and made herself
known.

"What do you wish?" demanded the liveried footman.

The princess turned and looked at him. Surely she had seen that face and
form before in a different setting, but she could not recall when or
where. So much was evident, however, that the speaker was more wont to
give than to receive orders. Blanka turned again to the open carriage
door and plucked at the cloak of the person sitting within.

"You are fleeing from Rome, too, Countess," said she. "I beg you to take
me with you."

But the carriage door was closed in her face.

"Countess, hear me!" she cried, in distress. "Have pity on me! Don't
leave me to perish in the streets!"

Her petition was unheeded. The footman drew her away and, as he turned
to remount the vehicle, whispered three words in her ear:

"_E il papa!_"

It was the Pope, and he was fleeing! The spiritual ruler of the world,
the king of kings, Heaven's viceroy upon earth, was flying for his life.
The judge fled and left the prisoner to her fate. Blanka felt herself
absolved from all her vows. She plucked from her bosom the consecrated
palm-leaf, tore it to pieces, and threw the fragments scornfully after
the retreating carriage. Then she turned once more t