e and amusing woman who was to be his wife. He could still
almost taste the delicate _chaud froid_, the tender woodcock, the dry
champagne; he could still almost hear Donna Tullia's last noisy sally
ringing in his ears--and behold, he was now sitting by the roadside in
the rain, in the wretched garb of a begging monk, five hours' journey
from Rome. He had left his affianced bride without a word of warning, had
abandoned all his possessions to Temistocle--that scoundrelly thief
Temistocle!--and he was utterly alone.

But as he rested himself, drawing his monk's hood closely over his head
and trying to warm his freezing feet with the skirts of his rough brown
frock, he reflected that if he ever got safely across the frontier he
would be treated as a patriot, as a man who had suffered for the cause,
and certainly as a man who deserved to be rewarded. He reflected that
Donna Tullia was a woman who had a theatrical taste for romance, and that
his present position was in theory highly romantic, however uncomfortable
it might be in the practice. When he was safe his story would be told in
the newspapers, and he would himself take care that it was made
interesting. Donna Tullia would read it, would be fascinated by the tale
of his sufferings, and would follow him. His marriage with her would then
add immense importance to his own position. He would play his cards well,
and with her wealth at his disposal he might aspire to any distinction he
coveted. He only wished the situation could have been prolonged for three
weeks, till he was actually married. Meanwhile he must take courage and
push on, beyond the reach of pursuit. If once he could gain Subiaco, he
could be over the frontier in twelve hours. From Tivoli there were
_vetture_ up the valley, cheap conveyances for the country people, in
which a barefooted friar could travel unnoticed. He knew that he must
cross the boundary by Trevi and the Serra di Sant' Antonio. He would
inquire the way from Subiaco.

While Del Ferice was thus making his way across the Campagna, Temistocle
was taking measures for his own advantage and safety. He had the bag with
his master's clothes, the valuable watch and chain, and the pearl studs.
He had also the key to Del Ferice's lodgings, of which he promised
himself to make some use, as soon as he should be sure that the
detectives had left the house. In the first place he made up his mind to
leave Donna Tullia in ignorance of his master's sudden d