Franz wouldn't let that happen. He hadn't stayed in Rome to avoid reality, but to wait for the right moment.
Franz knew that somewhere in the world, someone had to be more anxious than he was.
The British, the French, and Pius IX, for example.
Reputation—that was what worried Pius IX most at the moment.
At first, Pius IX hadn't taken Franz, a child who hadn't even come of age, seriously. After all, young people were always impetuous. Pius had thought that, with his years of experience, he could certainly bring the boy around to his way of thinking.
Pius IX was certain that ninety-nine percent of noble youths would have been overjoyed by this. Yet he couldn't see the slightest change in Franz Joseph's expression. It was as if the title had long been his for the taking—or as if the crown didn't exist at all.
It was worth noting that granting Franz the title of King of Rome had been entirely the Pope's own decision. In truth, he hadn't obtained the College of Cardinals' consent.
After all, the title was far too ambiguous. They feared it would anger other powers, and feared even more that the Austrians would seize the opportunity to annex Rome, or even the entire Papal States.
But at the moment, Pius IX had nothing of value to offer that might win over the future emperor of the Austrian Empire.
Back at the Vatican Palace, Pius IX didn't know much about the law, but that previous Constitution had certainly done him no favors.
"I'll give it some serious consideration."
Pius IX deliberately acted cold toward Franz's "Provisional Administration Act." An acolyte approached Franz with a silver tray.
Franz glanced at Bordeaux. He had gone out and brought back a very heavy box, which he gently