hat men may be brothers and yet not love each other."

"_Come si fa?_ What can one do about it?" ejaculated Paolo.

"You must try and influence him. You must do your best to make him
change his views. You must make an effort to bring him to a better state
of mind."

"Eh! I know," answered the priest. "I do my best, but I do not succeed.
He thinks I interfere. I am not San Filippo Neri. Why should I conceal
the matter? Marzio is not a bad man, but he is crazy about what he calls
politics. He believes in a new state of things. He thinks that
everything is bad and ought to be destroyed. Then he and his friends
would build up the ideal state."

"There would soon be nothing but equality to eat--fried, roast and
boiled. I have heard that there are socialists even here in Rome. I
cannot imagine what they want."

"They want to divide the wealth of the country among themselves,"
answered Don Paolo. "What strange ideas men have!"

"To divide the wealth of the country they have only to subtract a paper
currency from an inflated national debt. There would be more
unrighteousness than mammon left after such a proceeding. It reminds me
of a story I heard last year. A deputation of socialists waited upon a
high personage in Vienna. Who knows what for? But they went. They told
him that it was his duty to divide his wealth amongst the inhabitants of
the city. And he said they were quite right. 'Look here,' said he, 'I
possess about seven hundred thousand florins. It chances that Vienna has
about seven hundred thousand inhabitants. Here, you have each one
florin. It is your share. Good-morning.' You see he was quite just. So,
perhaps, if your brother had his way, and destroyed everything, and
divided the proceeds equally, he would have less afterwards than he had
before. What do you think?"

"It is quite true, Eminence. But I am afraid he will never understand
that. He has very unchangeable opinions."

"They will change all the more suddenly when he is tired of them. Those
ideas are morbid, like the ravings of a man in a fever. When the fever
has worn itself out, there comes a great sense of lassitude, and a
desire for peace."

"Provided it ever really does wear itself out," said Don Paolo, sadly.

"Eh! it will, some day. With such political ideas, I suppose your
brother is an atheist, is he not?"

"I hope he believes in something," replied the priest evasively.

"And yet he makes a good living by manufacturing vessels for