He had spoken confidently to Faustina of being married against the will of her father, but when he thought over this alternative he recollected a fact he had almost completely forgotten in considering his matrimonial projects.  He was a soldier and had enlisted in the Zouaves for a term of years.  It was true that by using the influence he possessed he might hope to be released from his engagement, but such a course was most repugnant to him.  Before Mentana it would have been wholly impossible, for it would have seemed cowardly.  Now that he had distinguished himself and had been wounded in the cause, the thing might be done without dishonour, but it would involve a species of self-abasement to which he was not prepared to submit.  On the other hand, to wait until his term of service should have expired was to risk losing Faustina altogether.  He knew that she loved him, but he was experienced enough to know that a young girl is not always able to bear the pressure exercised upon her when marriage is concerned.  In Rome, and especially at that time, it was in the power of parents to use the most despotic means for subduing the will of their children.  There was even a law by which a disobedient son or daughter could be imprisoned for a considerable length of time, provided that the father could prove that his child had rebelled against his just will.  Though Gouache was not aware of this, the fact that a similar institution existed in his own country made him suspect that it was to be found in Rome also.  Supposing that Montevarchi refused to accept him for a son-in-law, and that Faustina, on the other hand, refused to marry young Frangipani, it was only too probable that she might be locked up—­in a luxuriously furnished cell of course—­to reflect upon the error of her ways.  It was by no means certain that in the face of such humiliation and suffering Faustina would continue her resistance; indeed, she could hardly be blamed if she yielded in the end.  Gouache believed in the sincerity of her love because the case was his own; had he heard of it in the life of another man he would have laughed at the idea that a girl of eighteen could be capable of a serious passion.

It is not necessary, however, to enter into an analysis of the motives and feelings of either Faustina or Anastase.  Their connection with the history of the Saracinesca arose from what they did, and not from the thoughts which prompted their actions.  It is sufficient to say that Gouache conceived the mad idea of asking Montevarchi’s consent to his marriage and to explain the immediate consequences of the step he took.