mention of political subjects Giovanni became impenetrable, shrugged, his shoulders, and assumed an air of the utmost indifference.  No paradox could draw him into argument, no flattery could loose his tongue.  Indeed those were times when men hesitated to express an opinion, not only because any opinion they might express was liable to be exaggerated and distorted by willing enemies—­a consideration which would not have greatly intimidated Giovanni Saracinesca—­but also because it was impossible for the wisest man to form any satisfactory judgment upon the course of events.  It was clear to every one that ever since 1848 the temporal power had been sustained by France; and though no one in 1865 foresaw the downfall of the Second Empire, no one saw any reason for supposing that the military protectorate of Louis Napoleon in Rome could last for ever:  what would be likely to occur if that protection were withdrawn was indeed a matter of doubt, but was not looked upon by the Government as a legitimate matter for speculation.

Del Ferice, however, did not desist from his attempts to make Giovanni speak out his mind, and whenever an opportunity offered, tried to draw him into conversation.  He was destined on the present occasion to meet with greater success than had hitherto attended his efforts.  The picnic was noisy, and Giovanni was in a bad humour; he did not care for Donna Tullia’s glances, nor for the remarks she constantly levelled at him; still less was he amused by the shallow gaiety of her party of admirers, tempered as their talk was by the occasional tonic of some outrageous cynicism from the melancholy Spicca.  Del Ferice smiled, and talked, and smiled again, seeking to flatter and please Donna Tullia, as was his wont.  By-and-by the clear north wind and the bright sun dried the ground, and Madame Mayer proposed that the party should walk a little on the road towards Rome—­a proposal of such startling originality that it was carried by acclamation.  Donna Tullia wanted to walk with Giovanni; but on pretence of having left something upon the drag, he gave Valdarno time to take his place.  When Giovanni began to follow the rest, he found that Del Ferice had lagged behind, and seemed to be waiting for him.

Giovanni was in a bad humour that day.  He had suffered himself to be persuaded into joining in a species of amusement for which he cared nothing, by a mere word from a woman for whom he cared less, but whom he had half determined to marry, and who had wholly determined to marry him.  He, who hated vacillation, had been dangling for four-and-twenty hours like a pendulum, or, as he said to himself, like an ass between two bundles of hay.  At one moment he meant to marry Donna Tullia, and at another he loathed the thought; now he felt that he would make any sacrifice to rid the Duchessa d’Astrardente of himself, and now again he felt how futile such a sacrifice would be.  He was ashamed in his heart, for he was no boy of twenty to be swayed by a woman’s