st declare himself for or against the mighty impulse which was
behind them. The ideas he had striven for had triumphed at last, and his
surest hold on authority was to share openly in their triumph. A
profound horror dragged him back. The new principles were not those for
which he had striven. The goddess of the new worship was but a bloody
Maenad who had borrowed the attributes of freedom. He could not bow the
knee in such a charnel-house. Tranquilly, resolutely, he took up the
policy of repression. He knew the attempt was foredoomed to failure, but
that made no difference now: he was simply acting out the inevitable.

The last act came with unexpected suddenness. The Duke woke one morning
to find the citadel in the possession of the people. The impregnable
stronghold of Bracciaforte was in the hands of the serfs whose fathers
had toiled to build it, and the last descendant of Bracciaforte was
virtually a prisoner in his palace. The revolution took place quietly,
without violence or bloodshed. Andreoni waited on the Duke, and a
cabinet-council was summoned. The ministers affected to have yielded
reluctantly to popular pressure. All they asked was a constitution and
the assurance that no resistance would be offered to the French.

The Duke requested a few hours for deliberation. Left alone, he summoned
the Duchess's chamberlain. The ducal pair no longer met save on
occasions of state: they had not exchanged a word since the death of
Fulvia Vivaldi. Odo sent word to her Highness that he could no longer
answer for her security while she remained in the duchy, and that he
begged her to leave immediately for Vienna. She replied that she was
obliged for his warning, but that while he remained in Pianura her place
was at his side. It was the answer he had expected--he had never doubted
her courage--but it was essential to his course that she should leave
the duchy without delay, and after a moment's reflection he wrote a
letter in which he informed her that he must insist on her obedience. No
answer was returned, but he learned that she had turned white, and
tearing the letter in shreds had called for her travelling-carriage
within the hour. He sent to enquire when he might take leave of her, but
she excused herself on the plea of indisposition, and before nightfall
he heard the departing rattle of her wheels.

He immediately summoned Andreoni and announced his unconditional refusal
of the terms proposed to him. He would not