and her early widowhood, she leads men after her; they talk, they chatter, they set up an opinion and gloat over it, while they lack the spirit to support it.  They are all alike—­non tantum ovum ovo simile—­one egg is not more like another than they are. Non tali auxilio—­we want no such help.  We ask for bread, not for stones; we want men, not empty-headed dandies.  We have both at present; but if the Emperor fails us, we shall have too many dandies and too few men—­too few men like you, Don Giovanni.  Instead of armed battalions we shall have polite societies for mutual assurance against political risks,—­instead of the support of the greatest military power in Europe, we shall have to rely on a parcel of young gentlemen whose opinions are guided by Donna Tullia Mayer.”

Giovanni laughed and glanced at his Eminence, who chose to refer all the imminent disasters of the State to the lady whom he did not wish to see married to his companion.

“Is her influence really so great?” asked Saracinesca, incredulously.

“She is agreeable, she is pretty, she is rich—­her influence is a type of the whole influence which is abroad in Rome—­a reflection of the life of Paris.  There, at least, the women play a real part—­very often a great one:  here, when they have got command of a drawing-room full of fops, they do not know where to lead them; they change their minds twenty times a-day; they have an access of religious enthusiasm in Advent, followed by an attack of Liberal fever in Carnival, and their season is brought to a fitting termination by the prostration which overtakes them in Lent.  By that time all their principles are upset, and they go to Paris for the month of May—­pour se retremper dans les idees idealistes, as they express it.  Do you think one could construct a party out of such elements, especially when you reflect that this mass of uncertainty is certain always to yield to the ultimate consideration of self-interest?  Half of them keep an Italian flag with the Papal one, ready to thrust either of them out of the window as occasion may require.  Good night, Giovanni.  I have talked enough, and all Rome will set upon you to find out what secrets of State I have been confiding.  You had better prepare an answer, for you can hardly inform Donna Tullia and her set that I have been calling them a parcel of—­weak and ill-advised people.  They might take offence—­they might even call me by bad names,—­fancy how very terribly that would afflict me!  Good night, Giovanni—­my greetings to your father.”

The Cardinal nodded, but did not offer his hand.  He knew that Giovanni hated to kiss his ring, and he had too much tact to press the ceremonial etiquette upon any one whom he desired to influence.  But he nodded graciously, and receiving his cloak from the gentleman who accompanied him and who had waited at a respectful distance, the statesman passed out of the great doorway, where the double line of torch-bearers stood ready to accompany him down the grand staircase to his carriage, in accordance with the custom of those days.