in seasons of peril, notably during the great plague of 1630 and during the famine in the Duchess Polixena’s time, when her Highness, of blessed memory, met our Lady in the streets distributing bread, in the dress of a peasant-woman from the hills, but with a necklace made of blood-drops instead of garnets.  Father Ignazio has lately counselled the little prince’s visiting in state the protectress of his line, and his Highness’s physician, Count Heiligenstern, does not disapprove the plan.  In fact,” she added, “I understand that he thinks all special acts of piety beneficial, as symbolising the inward act by which the soul incessantly strives to reunite itself to the One.”

The Dominican glanced at Odo with a smile.  “The Count’s dialectics,” said he, “might be dangerous were they a little clearer; but we must hope he distinguishes more accurately between his drugs than his dogmas.”

“But I am told,” the Prime Minister here interposed in a creaking rusty voice, “that her Highness is set against the pilgrimage and will put every obstacle in the way of its being performed.”

The Countess sighed and cast down her eyes, the Dominican remained silent, and Trescorre said quietly to Odo, “Her Highness would be pleased to have you join her in a game at basset.”  As they crossed the room he added in a low tone:  “The Duchess, in spite of her remarkable strength of character, is still of an age to be readily open to new influences.  I observed she was much taken by your conversation, and you would be doing her a service by engaging her not to oppose this pilgrimage to Boscofolto.  We have Heiligenstern’s word that it cannot harm the prince, it will produce a good impression on the people, and it is of vital importance to her Highness not to side against the Duke in such matters.”  And he withdrew with a smile as Odo approached the card-table.

Odo left the Duchess’s circle with an increased desire to penetrate more deeply into the organisation of the little world about him, to trace the operation of its various parts, and to put his hand on the mainspring about which they revolved; and he wondered whether Gamba, whose connection with the ducal library must give him some insight into the affairs of the court, might not prove as instructive a guide through this labyrinth as through the mazes of the ducal garden.

The Duke’s library filled a series of rooms designed in the classical style of the cinque-cento.  On the very threshold Odo was conscious of leaving behind the trivial activities of the palace, with the fantastic architecture which seemed their natural setting.  Here all was based on a noble permanence of taste, a convergence of accumulated effort toward a chosen end; and the door was fittingly surmounted by Seneca’s definition of the wise man’s state:  “Omnia illi secula ut deo serviunt.”