organ, the little ones with a squirrel or a cage of
white mice. We had a cup of tea and a piece of bread for breakfast, and
were forbidden to return home until we had earned our supper. Then--then
the winter days and nights in the cold northern climate, and the little
southern boys with their organs and squirrels, shivering and starving in
the darkness and the snow."

Roma's eyes were filling frankly, and she was allowing the tears to
flow.

"Thank God, I have another memory," he continued. "It is of a good man,
a saint among men, an Italian refugee, giving his life to the poor,
especially to the poor of his own people."

Roma's labouring breath seemed to be arrested at that moment.

"On several occasions he brought their masters to justice in the English
courts, until, finding they were watched, they gradually became less
cruel. He opened his house to the poor little fellows, and they came for
light and warmth between nine and ten at night, bringing their organs
with them. He taught them to read, and on Sunday evenings he talked to
them of the lives of the great men of their country. He is dead, but
his spirit is alive--alive in the souls he made to live."

Roma's eyes were blinded with the tears that sprang to them, and her
throat was choking, but she said:

"What was he?"

"A doctor."

"What was his name?"

David Rossi passed his hand over the furrow in his forehead, and
answered:

"They called him Joseph Roselli."

Roma half rose from her seat, then sank back, and the lace handkerchief
dropped from her hand.

"But I heard afterwards--long afterwards--that he was a Roman noble, one
of the fearless few who had taken up poverty and exile and an unknown
name for the sake of liberty and justice."

Roma's head had fallen into her bosom, which was heaving with an emotion
she could not conceal.

"One day a letter came from Italy, telling him that a thousand men were
waiting for him to lead them in an insurrection that was to dethrone an
unrighteous king. It was the trick of a scoundrel who has since been
paid the price of a hero's blood. I heard of this only lately--only
to-night."

There was silence for a moment. David Rossi had put one arm over his
eyes.

"Well?"

"He was enticed back from England to Italy; an English minister violated
his correspondence with a friend, and communicated its contents to the
Italian Government; he was betrayed into the hands of the police, and
deported without trial