nna Tullia had made his marriage with her appear in the
light of a disagreeable duty, and his rashness in confessing his love for
Corona had so disturbed his previous conceptions that marriage no longer
seemed a duty at all. What had been but a few days before almost a fixed
resolution, had dwindled till it seemed an impracticable and even a
useless scheme. When he had arrived at the Palazzo Frangipani that
evening, he had very nearly forgotten Donna Tullia, and had quite
determined that whatever his father might say he would not give the
promised answer before Easter. By the time the Cardinal had left him, he
had decided that no power on earth should induce him to marry Madame
Mayer. He did not take the trouble of saying to himself that he would
marry no one else.

The Cardinal's words had struck deep, in a deep nature. Giovanni had
given Del Ferice a very fair exposition of the views he believed himself
to hold, on the day when they had walked together after Donna Tullia's
picnic. He believed himself a practical man, loyal to the temporal power
by principle rather than by any sort of enthusiastic devotion; not
desirous of any great change, because any change that might reasonably be
expected would be bad for his own vested interests; not prejudiced for
any policy save that of peace--preferring, indeed, with Cicero, the most
unjust peace to the most just war; tenacious of old customs, and not
particularly inquisitive concerning ideas of progress,--on the whole,
Giovanni thought himself what his father had been in his youth, and more
or less what he hoped his sons, if he ever had any, would be after him.

But there was more in him than all this, and at the first distant sound
of battle he felt the spirit stir within him, for his real nature was
brave and loyal, unselfish and devoted, instinctively sympathizing with
the weak and hating the lukewarm. He had told Del Ferice that he believed
he would fight as a matter of principle: as he leaned against the marble
pillar of the door in the Palazzo Frangipani, he wished the fight had
already begun.

Waiting there, and staring into the moving crowd, he was aware of a young
man with pale and delicate features and black hair, who stood quietly by
his side, and seemed like himself an idle though not uninterested
spectator of the scene. Giovanni glanced once at the young fellow, and
thought he recognised him, and glancing again, he met his earnest look,
and saw that it was Anast