Never had he more fully realised the pride of that race, the long-descending inheritance of glory which was so heavy to bear.

The sovereign vanity of the Caesars lived anew in that degenerate young fellow who was scarcely able to read and write.

Starveling though he was, he knew his city, and could instinctively have recounted the grand pages of its history.

The names of the great emperors and great popes were familiar to him.

And why should men toil and moil when they had been the masters of the world?
Why not live nobly and idly in the most beautiful of cities, under the most beautiful of skies?
"_Io son' Romano di Roma_!" Benedetta had slipped her alms into the mother's hand, and Pierre and Narcisse were following her example when Dario, who had already done so, thought of Pierina.