the Forum. How many times had Julien come, in the past six months, to
that Marquis who dived constantly in the sentiment of the past, to gaze
upon the tragical and grand panorama of the historical scene! At the
voice of the recluse, the broken columns rose, the ruined temples were
rebuilt, the triumphal view was cleared from its mist. He talked, and
the formidable epopee of the Roman legend was evoked, interpreted by the
fervent Christian in that mystical and providential sense, which all,
indeed, proclaims in that spot, where the Mamertine prison relates the
trial of St. Peter, where the portico of the temple of Faustine serves
as a pediment to the Church of St. Laurent, where Ste.-Marie-Liberatrice
rises upon the site of the Temple of Vesta--'Sancta Maria, libera nos a
poenis inferni'--Montfanon always added when he spoke of it, and he
pointed out the Arch of Titus, which tells of the fulfilment of the
prophecies of Our Lord against Jerusalem, while, opposite, the groves
reveal the out lines of a nunnery upon the ruins of the dwellings of the
Caesars. And, at the extreme end, the Coliseum recalls to mind the
ninety thousand spectators come to see the martyrs suffer.

Such were the sights where lived the former pontifical zouave, and, on
ringing the bell of the third etage, Julien said to himself: "I am a
simpleton to come to propose to such a man what I have to propose. Yet
it is not to be a second in an ordinary duel, but simply to prevent an
adventure which might cost the lives of two men in the first place, then
the honor of Madame Steno, and, lastly, the peace of mind of three
innocent persons, Madame Gorka, Madame Maitland and my little friend
Alba.... He alone has sufficient authority to arrange all. It will be
an act of charity, like any other.... I hope he is at home," he
concluded, hearing the footstep of the servant, who recognized the
visitor and who anticipated all questions.