The Austrian Government, as we all know, is, or was, a paternal government-a very paternal government.  And the governor who ruled in the Lombard capital was quite as much intent on playing the “governor,” in the modern young gentleman’s sense of the word, as good old paternal Franz himself in his own Vienna.  But this paternal government was not of the sort which ignores the well-authenticated fact that “young men will be young men.”  On the contrary, it proceeded always, especially as regarded its more distinguished sons, on the largest recognition of this truth.  Wild-oats must be sown; the “governor” knew it, and the law allowed it.  But they should be so sown as to involve as little prejudicial an after-crop, as may be—­as little prejudicial especially to those distinguished sons who cannot be expected to refrain from such natural sowing.

And enchanting Divas may assist in such sowing, and be tolerated in so doing by a not too rigidly exacting paternal government—­may be held in so assisting not to step beyond the sphere of social functions assigned to them by the natural order of things in a manner too offensive to the mild morality of a paternal government, as long as such joint wild-oat cultivation shall in nowise threaten to interfere with the future tillage of less wild and more profitable crops by those distinguished young scions of noble races, to whose youthful aberrations a paternal government is thus wisely indulgent.

So long, and no longer.  Mark it well, enchanting Divas.  Enchant if you will; ’tis your function.  But do not think to enchain?  Enmesh a young Marchese in the tangles of Neaera’s hair.  A paternal governor puts his fingers before his eyes; and lets a smile be seen on his lips beneath them.  But do not seek to bind him by less easily broken ties.  A vigilant and moral governor frowns on the instant; and a paternal government well knows how to protect its distinguished sons by very summary and effectual process.

But when for a poor Diva there comes also the time when that pleasant wild-oat sowing seems no longer a promising pursuit, what does the paternal wisdom decree as to her future?  Why, she must reap as she has sown—­or helped to sow.  See ye to it, Divas.  Such providence is beyond our function.

And thus it had come to pass that the trouble had arisen which had resulted in inducing the Diva Bianca to turn her back on ungrateful Milan, and her face towards welcoming Ravenna.  In that conference between Bianca and her old friend and counsellor, which has been mentioned, it had been fully brought home to the Diva’s conviction that for her the pleasant time of wild-oat sowing had come to an end.  “Would that the year were always May.”  But old Quinto Lalli knew that it wasn’t.  And it had been concluded between him and his adopted daughter that it was high time for Bianca to take life au serieux;—­to understand thoroughly that noctes coenaeque deum, with champagne suppers and love among the roses, must be, if not necessarily abandoned, yet steadily contemplated as a means and not an end.