The second act was more dramatic than the first, showing Samson in his

character as a warrior, and when the curtain came down again, General

Morra, the Minister of War, visited the Princess's box.

"So you're taking lessons in the art of war from the professor who slew

an army with the jaw-bone of an ass?" said Don Camillo.

"Wish we could enlist a few thousands of him--jaw-bones as well," said

the General. "The gentleman might be worth having at the War Office, if

it was only as a jettatura." And then in a low voice to the Princess,

with a glance at Roma, "Your beautiful young friend doesn't look so well

to-night."

The Princess shrugged her shoulders. "Of the pains of love one suffers

but does not die," she whispered.

"You surely cannot mean...."

The Princess put the tip of her fan to his lips and laughed.

Roma was conscious of a strange conflict of feelings. The triumph she

had promised herself by David Rossi's presence with her in public--the

triumph over the envious ones who would have rejoiced in her

downfall--brought her no pleasure.

The third act dealt with the allurements of Delilah, and was received

with a good deal of laughter.

"Ah, these sweet, round, soft things--they can do anything they like

with the giants," said Don Camillo.

The Baron, who had dined with the King, came round at the end of the

next act, wearing a sash diagonally across his breast, with crosses,

stars, and other decorations. He bowed to David Rossi with ceremonious

politeness, greeted Don Camillo familiarly, kissed the hand of the

Princess, and offered his arm to Roma to take her into the corridor to

cool--she was flushed and overheated.

"I see you are getting on, my child! Excellent idea to bring him here!

Everybody is saying you cannot be the person he intended, so his trumpet

has brayed to no purpose."

"You received my letters?" she said in a faltering voice.

"Yes, but don't be uneasy. I'm neither the prophet nor the son of a

prophet if we are not on the right track. What a fortunate thought about

the man Minghelli! An inspiration! You asked what his fault was in

London--forgery, my dear!"

"That's serious enough, isn't it?"

"In a Secretary of Legation, yes, but in a police agent...."

He laughed significantly, and she felt her skin creep.

"Has he found out anything?" she asked.

"Not yet, but he is clearly on the track of great things. It is nearly

certain that your King David is a person wanted by the law."




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