e key, and the Prince entered the room,
casting his eyes from D'Esmonde to the floor, where the fragments lay,
and back again to the priest, with a significance that showed how he
interpreted the whole incident. As for the Abbe, he looked as coldly
indifferent to the accident as though it were the veriest trifle he had
destroyed.

"I came to have a few moments' interview with you, Prince," said he,
calmly; "can you so far oblige me?"

"I am entirely at your orders, Monsignore," said the Russian, with a
faint smile. "Allow me to conduct you to a chamber in less disorder than
this one."

The Abbe bowed, and followed him, not seeming to hear the allusion. And
now, passing through a number of rooms, whose gorgeous furniture
was carefully covered, they reached a small chamber opening upon a
conservatory, where a breakfast-table was already spread.

"I will waste neither your time nor my own, Prince, by an apology for
the hour of this visit, nor the place; my business did not admit of
delay--that will excuse me in your eyes."

The Prince gave a cold bow, but never spoke.

D'Esmonde resumed. "I have heard the news from the camp: Lord Norwood
tells me that the Austrians have fallen back, and with a heavy loss
too."

"Not heavy!" said the Russian, with a smile.

"Enough, however, to raise the hopes and strengthen the courage of the
others. Goito was, at least, a victory." A faint shrug of the shoulders
was the only reply the Prince made, and the Abbe went on: "Things are
too critical, Prince, to treat the event slightingly. We cannot answer
either for France or England; still less can we rely on the politicians
of Vienna. A second or a third reverse, and who can say that they will
not treat for a peace, at the cost of half the States of Lombardy. Nay,
sir, I am not speaking without book," added he, more warmly; "I know--I
repeat it----I know that such a negotiation has been entertained,
and that at this moment the Cabinet of England has the matter in its
consideration."

"It may be so," said the Prince, carelessly, as he poured out his
coffee.

"Then there is not a moment to be lost," cried the Abbe, impetuously. "A
cession of the Milanais means a Republic of Upper Italy,--the downfall
of the Popedom,--the rule of infidelity over the Peninsula. Are
_we_--are _you_ prepared for this? Enough has been done to show that
Italian 'unity' is a fiction. Let us complete the lesson by proving that
they cannot meet the Austri