tall bodyguard through which the little King passed to his
place amid the playing of the national hymn. In the old Pantheon itself,
roofed with an awning of white silk which bore the royal arms, flares
were burning up to the topmost cornice of the round walls. A temporary
altar decorated in white and gold was ablaze with candles, and the
choir, conducted by a fashionable composer of opera, were in a golden
cage. The King and Queen and royal princes sat in chairs under a velvet
canopy, and there were tribunes for cabinet ministers, senators,
deputies, and foreign ambassadors. Religion was necessary to all state
functions, and the Mass was a magnificent political demonstration
carried out on lines arranged by the Baron himself. He had forgotten
God, but he had remembered the King, and he had thought of Roma also.
She wept at all religious ceremonies, and would have shed tears if she
had been present at this one.

From the Pantheon they passed to the Capitol, amid the playing of bands
of music which showered through the streets their hail of sound. The
magnificent hall was crowded by a brilliant company in silk dresses and
decorations. An address was read by the Mayor, reciting the early
misfortunes of Italy, and closing with allusions to the prosperity of
the nation under the reigning dynasty. In his reply the King extolled
the army as the hope of peace and unity, and ended with a eulogy of the
President of the Council, whose powerful policy had dispelled the
vaporous dreams of unpractical politicians who were threatening the
stability of the throne and the welfare of its loyal subjects.

The Baron answered briefly that he had done no more than his duty to his
King, who was almost a republican monarch, and to his country, which was
the freest in the world. As for the visionaries and their visions, a few
refugees in Zuerich, cheered on by the rabble abroad, might dream of
constructing a universal republic out of the various nations and races,
with Rome as their capital, but these were the delirious dreams of weak
minds.

"Dangerous!" said the Baron, with a smile. "To think of the eternal
dreamer being dangerous!"

The King laughed, the senators cheered, the ladies waved their
handkerchiefs, and again the Baron remembered Roma.

The procession to the Quirinal was a prolonged triumph. Every house was
hung with flags, every window with red and yellow damask. The clubs in
the Corso were crowded with princes, nobles, dipl