ON April 29th, 1849, two men were seated in a room whose open windows commanded a view down the Tiber. A sound of confused uproar rose from the city.

“I am afraid, Leonard,” the elder of the two men said, “that the crisis is at hand. The news that the French are landing to-day at Civita Vecchia is ominous indeed. It is true that Oudïnot has sent a message saying that the flag he has hoisted is that of peace and order. The people will not believe that he comes as an enemy; but, for my part, I have no doubt of it.”

“Nor have I,” the other replied. “It was bad enough that we had Austria against us, Sardinia powerless, and all the princelings of Italy hostile; but that France, having proclaimed herself a republic, should now interfere to crush us and to put the Pope back upon his throne is nothing short of monstrous. I feared that it would be so, but Mazzini had so much faith in his influence with members of the French Assembly that he has buoyed up the hopes of the populace, and even now the people generally believe that the French come as friends.”