tory of
Rome at a moment like the present?" said the Englishman.

The young Roman smiled.

"Why did the Prime Minister appoint so-and-so?--Donna Roma! Why did he
dismiss such-and-such?--Donna Roma! What feminine influence imposed upon
the nation this or that?--Donna Roma! Through whom come titles,
decorations, honours?--Donna Roma! Who pacifies intractable politicians
and makes them the devoted followers of the Ministers?--Donna Roma! Who
organises the great charitable committees, collects funds and
distributes them?--Donna Roma! Always, always Donna Roma!"

"So the day of the petticoat politician is not over in Italy yet?"

"Over? It will only end with the last trump. But dear Donna Roma is
hardly that. With her light play of grace and a whole artillery of love
in her lovely eyes, she only intoxicates a great capital and"--with a
glance towards the curtained door--"takes captive a great Minister."

"Just that," and the white plumes bobbed up and down.

"Hence she defies conventions, and no one dares to question her actions
on her scene of gallantry."

"Drives a pair of thoroughbreds in the Corso every afternoon, and
threatens to buy an automobile."

"Has debts enough to sink a ship, but floats through life as if she had
never known what it was to be poor."

"And has she?"

The voices from behind the curtained door were louder than usual at that
moment, and the young Roman drew his chair closer.

"Donna Roma, dear sir, was the only child of Prince Volonna. Nobody
mentions him now, so speak of him in a whisper. The Volonnas were an old
papal family, holding office in the Pope's household, but the young
Prince of the house was a Liberal, and his youth was cast in the stormy
days of the middle of the century. As a son of the revolution he was
expelled from Rome for conspiracy against the papal Government, and when
the Pope went out and the King came in, he was still a republican,
conspiring against the reigning sovereign, and, as such, a rebel.
Meanwhile he had wandered over Europe, going from Geneva to Berlin, from
Berlin to Paris. Finally he took refuge in London, the home of all the
homeless, and there he was lost and forgotten. Some say he practised as
a doctor, passing under another name; others say that he spent his life
as a poor man in your Italian quarter of Soho, nursing rebellion among
the exiles from his own country. Only one thing is certain: late in life
he came back to Italy as a conspirator--en