“Anything in my power—­”

“To present me to the Holy Father as one who desires to become his faithful subject.  Could you do so, do you think, without any great inconvenience?”

“Eh!  I shall be delighted!  Magari!” answered the prince, heartily.  “To tell the truth, I was afraid you meant to keep your Italian convictions, and that, in Rome, would be against you, especially in these stormy days.  But if you will join us heart and soul you will be received with open arms.  I shall take great pleasure in seeing you make the acquaintance of my son and his wife.  Come and dine this evening.”

“Thank you,” said the Marchese.  “I will not fail.”

After a few more words San Giacinto took his leave, and the prince could not but admire the way in which this man, who had been brought up among peasants, or at best among the small farmers of an outlying district, assumed at once an air of perfect equality while allowing just so much of respect to appear in his manner as might properly be shown by a younger member to the head of a great house.  When he was gone Saracinesca rang the bell.

“Pasquale,” he said, addressing the old butler who answered the summons, “that gentleman who is just gone is my cousin, Don Giovanni Saracinesca, who is called Marchese di San Giacinto.  He will dine here this evening.  You will call him Eccellenza, and treat him as a member of the family.  Go and ask the princess if she will receive me.”

Pasquale opened his mental eyes very wide as he bowed and left the room.  He had never heard of this other Saracinesca, and the appearance of a new member of the family upon the scene, who must, from his appearance, have been in existence between thirty and forty years, struck him as astonishing in the extreme; for the old servant had been bred up in the house from a boy and imagined himself master of all the secrets connected with the Saracinesca household.

He was, indeed, scarcely less surprised than his master who, although he had been aware for some time past that Giovanni Saracinesca existed and was his cousin, had never anticipated the event of his coming to Rome, and had expected still less that the innkeeper would ever assume the title to which he had a right and play the part of a gentleman, as he himself had expressed it.  There was a strange mixture of boldness and foresight in the way the old prince had received his new relation.  He knew the strength of his own position in society, and that the introduction of a humble cousin could not possibly do him harm.  At the worst, people might laugh a little among themselves and remark that the Marchese must be a nuisance to the Saracinesca.  On the other hand, the prince was struck from the first with the air of self-possession which he discerned in San Giacinto, and foresaw that the man would very probably play a part in Roman life.  He was a man who might be disliked, but who could not be despised; and since his claims to consideration