"This is truly an unexpected blessing--a fountain in the desert,"
thought the Cardinal, as the three women were ushered into the
audience-chamber. "Providence serves me better than these knaves by whom
I am surrounded." Casting an undisguised look of admiration at Clelia,
who stood modestly behind her mother, he said aloud, "Let the petition
be brought forward."
Monna Aurelia, considerately taking the document from Silvia, advanced
with it, and presented it on her knees.
After perusing it with apparent attention, the Cardinal addressed
Aurelia, saying, "So you are the wife of that Manlio who takes upon
himself to shelter and protect the enemies of the State, of his Holiness
the Pope?"
"It is I who am the wife of Signor Manlio, your Eminence," said Silvia,
advancing. "This lady," pointing to Aurelia, "kindly offered to appear
before your Eminence, and assure you that neither my husband or I have
ever meddled with politics, and are persons of unquestioned honesty."
"Unquestioned honesty!" repeated the Cardinal, in simulated anger.
"Why, then, as you are so very honest, do you first shelter heretics
and enemies of the state, and then assist them to escape in such an
unpardonable manner?"
"To escape!" exclaimed Clelia, who had hitherto preserved her presence
of mind. "Then my father is no longer confined in this dreadful
place"--and a flush of joy spread itself over her lovely features.
"Yes, he has escaped; but ere long he will be re-taken, and must answer
for his double crime," said the Cardinal.
These words gave a blow to Silvia's new-born hopes, and, what with
surprise, fear, and excitement, she fell back into her daughter's arms
in a swoon.
The Cardinal, hardened to such scenes, at once determined to take
advantage of it, so summoning some servants, he ordered them to convey
the fainting woman and her friends to another room, where proper
remedies could be applied to restore the stricken wife. As they made
their exit, he rubbed his soft hands gleefully, saying to himself, "Ah,
my pretty one! you shall not leave the palace until you have paid me a
fee." He then sent for Gianni, who, recognizing the trio at their entry,
had remained at hand, as he divined his services would be needed. When
he presented himself, his master chuckled out--
"Ebben, Signor Gianni! Providence beats your boasted ability out and
out."
Gianni, knowing that all was sunshine again when he was thus dignified
by the title "Signor," answered, "Have I not always said your Eminence
was born under a lucky star?"
"Well," continued the profane Cardinal, "since Providence favors me,
it now only rests with you, Gianni, to finish the matter off." Then he
continued, "Follow the women, and see that every respect is paid them;
and when they are calmed, direct Father Ignazio to send for the elder
woman and the wife of the sculptor, under pretense of questioning them
about his escape, that I may have an opportunity of conversing alone
with the incomparable Clelia."
Bowing profoundly, the scoundrel departed to execute his dissolute
master's commands.
As he passed out, a lackey entered, announcing that "Una Signora
Inglese" wished to see his Eminence on business.
"Introduce her," said Procopio, stroking his chin complacently; for
he congratulated himself, in spite of the interruption, on his good
fortune, as he admired the young Englishwoman excessively.
Julia greeted him frankly as an acquaintance, holding ont her hand in
the English fashion, which he took, expressing in warm terms, as he led
her to a seat, his delight at seeing her.
"And to what am I to attribute the felicity of again receiving you so
soon under my roof? This room," he continued, "so lately brightened by
your presence, has a renewed grace for me now."
Julia seated herself, and replied, gravely, for she was slightly
discomposed by the Cardinal's flattery, "Your Eminence is too
condescending. As you well know, my former object in coming to the
palace was to crave leave to copy some of the _chefs-d'ouvre_ with which
it is adorned; but today I am here on a different errand."
The Cardinal, drawing a chair to her side and seating himself, said,
"And may I inquire its nature, beautiful lady?" placing, as he spoke,
his hands upon hers with an insinuating pressure.
Julia, resenting the Cardinal's familiarity, drew her chair back;
but, as he again approached, she stood up, and placed it between them,
saying, as he attempted to rise, and with a look that made him flinch,
"You surely forget yourself, Monseigneur; be seated, or I must leave
you."
The prelate, profoundly abashed by the dignity of the English girl,
obeyed, and she continued, "My object is to obtain information of the
wife and daughter of the sculptor Manlio, who, I am told, came to the
palace some hours ago to present a petition to your Eminence."
"They came here, but have already left," stammered Procopio, as soon as
he had recovered from his surprise.
"Is it long since they quitted your Eminence?" asked Julia.
"But a few minutes," was the reply.
"I presume they have left the palace, then?"
"Assuredly," affirmed he, unblushingly.
Julia, with a gesture of incredulity, bowed, and took her leave.
What is there perfect in the world? This English nation is by no means
exempt from imperfection; yet the English are the only people who can
be compared with the ancient Romans, for they resemble each other in the
splendid selfishness of their virtues and their vices.
Egotists and conquerors, the history of both abounds in crime committed
either in their own dominions, or in those countries which they invaded
and subdued. Many are the nations they have overthrown to satisfy their
boundless thirst for gold and power.
Yet who dare deny that the Britons, with all their faults, have
contributed largely to the civilization and social advancement of
mankind? They have laid the grand foundations of a new idea of humanity,
erect, inflexible, majestic, free; obeying no masters but the laws which
they themselves have made, no kings but those which they themselves
control.
By untiring patience and indomitable legality, this people has known
how to reconcile government and order with the liberty of a self-ruling
community.
The isle of England has become a sanctuary, an inviolable refuge for the
unfortunate of all other nations. Those proscribed by tyrants, and the
tyrants who have proscribed them, flee alike to her hospitable shores,
and find shelter on the single condition of taking their place as
citizens among citizens, and yielding obedience to the sovereign laws.
England, too, be it ever remembered first proclaimed to the world the
emancipation of the slave, and her people willingly submitted to an
increased taxation in order to carry out this glorious act in all her
colonies. Her descendants in America have, after a long and bloody
struggle between freedom and oligarchy, banished slavery also forever
from the New World.
Lastly, to England Italy is indebted in part for her reconstruction, by
reason of that resolute proclamation of fair play and no intervention in
the Straits of Messina in 1860.
To France Italy is also, indeed, indebted, since so many of her heroic
soldiers fell in the Italian cause in the battles of Solferino and
Magenta. She has also profited, like the rest of the world, by the
writings of the great minds of France, and by her principles of justice
and freedom. To France, moreover, we owe, in a great measure, the
abolition of piracy in the Mediterranean. France marched, in truth, for
some centuries alone, as the leader in civilization.
The time was when she proclaimed and propagated liberty to the world;
but she has now, alas! fallen, and is crouching before the image of a
fictitious greatness, while her ruler endeavors to defraud the nation
which he has exasperated, and employs his troops to deprive Italy of the
freedom which he helped to give her.
Let us hope that, for the welfare of humanity, she will, ere long,
resume her proper position, and, united with England, once again use
her sublime power to put down violence and corruption, and raise the
standard of universal liberty and progress.