The Patriot Part 18

There, when they had prudently closed the gla.s.s door leading to the terrace, the lawyer and Pedraglio disclosed their precious secret. An English lady, spending her holiday at Bellagio, who was a devoted friend of Italy, had received a letter (of which the lawyer possessed a translation) from another lady, a cousin of Sir James Hudson, English Minister at Turin. The letter stated that secret negotiations were being carried on in Turin, Paris, and London, to obtain the armed co-operation of Piedmont in the Orient; that the matter was looked upon as settled by the three cabinets, but that there still remained a few formal difficulties to arrange, as Count Cavour demanded the greatest consideration for the dignity of his country. At Turin they were confident the official and open invitation from the Western powers to accede to the treaty of the tenth of April, 1851, would come to hand not later than December. It was even affirmed that the troops forming the contingent would be under the command of the Duke of Genoa.

The lawyer read, and Franco held his wife's hand tight. Then he wanted to read the letter himself, and after him Luisa read. "But," said she, "war with Austria? How is that?"

"Most certainly," said the lawyer. "Do you suppose Cavour is going to send the Duke of Genoa with fifteen or twenty thousand men to fight the Turks unless he already holds the war with Austria in his hand? You may believe me, Madam, it will come about before a year is pa.s.sed."

Franco shook his fists in the air, his whole body quivering.

"Hurrah for Cavour!" whispered Luisa.

"Ah!" the lawyer exclaimed, "Demosthenes himself could not have praised Cavour with greater efficacy."

Franco's eyes were filling with tears. "I am a fool!" he said. "I don't know what to say!"

Pedraglio asked Luisa where the deuce she had hidden the bottle. Luisa smiled and went out, returning again immediately with the wine and gla.s.ses.

"Count Cavour!" said Pedraglio in a low tone. All raised their gla.s.ses repeating: "Count Cavour!" Then they drank, even Luisa, who never took wine.

Pedraglio refilled the gla.s.ses and again rose to his feet.

"War!" said he.

The three others sprang up, clutching their gla.s.ses in silence, too deeply moved to speak.

"We must all go!" said Pedraglio.

"All!" Franco repeated. Luisa kissed him impetuously on the shoulder.

Her husband seized her head in both hands, and imprinted a kiss upon her hair.

One of the windows towards the lake was open. In the silence that followed the kiss, they heard the measured dip of oars.

"The customs-guards," whispered Franco. While the guards' long-boat was pa.s.sing beneath the window, Pedraglio said: "D---- hogs!" in such a loud tone, that the others hushed him. The long-boat floated past. Franco looked out of the window.

It was cool; the moon was sinking towards the hills of Carona, streaking the lake with long, gilded stripes. What a strange sensation it gave him to contemplate that quiet solitude, with a great war so near at hand!

The dark, sad mountains seemed to be thinking of the formidable future.

Franco closed the window, and the conversation began again in low tones round the little table. Each one had his own suppositions concerning future events, and all spoke of these events as of a drama, of which the ma.n.u.script was lying quite ready, down to the very last verse, with all its stops and commas in place, in Count Cavour's writing-desk. V., who was a Bonapartist, saw clearly that Napoleon intended to avenge his uncle, overthrowing one after another, the parties to the Holy Alliance; to-day Russia, to-morrow Austria. But Franco, on the other hand, who was mistrustful of the emperor, attributed the Sardinian alliance to the good-will of England, but acknowledged that as soon as this alliance would be proclaimed, Austria, sacrificing her own interests to principles and hatred, would cast in her lot with Russia, and therefore Napoleon would be obliged to fight her. "Listen," said his wife, "I am afraid Austria will come over to the side of Piedmont," "Impossible!"

said the lawyer. Franco felt alarmed, and admired the acuteness of the observation, but Pedraglio exclaimed: "Nonsense! Those blockheads are too great a.s.ses to think out a trick like that!" This argument appeared decisive, and no one save Luisa gave the possibility another thought.

They began discussing plans for the campaign, plans for insurrections, but here they could not agree. V. knew the men and the mountains of the Lake of Como from Colico to Como and Lecco, better perhaps than any one else. And everywhere all along the lake, in Val Menaggio, in Vall 'Intelvi, in Valsa.s.sina, in the Tre Pievi, he knew those who were devoted to the cause, and even ready to strike the blow at a sign from the _Scior Avocat_. He and Franco considered any insurrectional movement useful that might serve to distract part of the Austrian forces even for a moment. But Luisa and Pedraglio were of opinion that all the able-bodied men should hasten to swell the Piedmontese battalions. "We women will make the revolution," said Luisa, with her mock gravity. "I, for my part, will pitch Carlascia into the lake!"

They still conversed in an undertone, with an electric current in their veins that flashed from their eyes, and made their nerves tingle; enjoying this hushed talk behind closed doors and windows, the danger of being in possession of that letter, the glowing life they felt in their blood, and those intoxicating words they were always repeating: Piedmont, War, Cavour, Duke of Genoa, Victor Emmanuel, Cannon, _Bersaglieri_.

"Do you know what time it is?" said Pedraglio, consulting his watch. "It is half-past twelve! Let us go to bed."

Luisa went for the candles, and lighted them, standing the while, but no one moved, so she also sat down again. When he saw the candles lighted, even Pedraglio himself lost his desire to go to bed.

"A fine kingdom!" said he.

"Piedmont," said Franco, "Lombardy-Venice, Parma, and Modena."

"And the Legations!"[L] V. added.

More discussions followed. All wished for the

Legations, especially the lawyer and Luisa, but Franco and Pedraglio were afraid to touch them, fearing to stir up difficulties. They grew so warm that Pedraglio entreated his companions to "scream" in an undertone. "Scream softly, children!" Then it was V.'s turn to propose going to bed. He took his candle in his hand but did not rise.

"Body of Bacchus!" said he, not knowing whether he meant it as a conclusion or an exhortation. Indeed he had a terrible desire to talk, and to hear others talk, but could find nothing new to say. "Body of Bacchus it is indeed!" Franco exclaimed, who was in much the same state of mind. A long silence ensued. At last Pedraglio said, "Well?" and rose. "Shall we go?" said Luisa, leading the way. "And the name?" the lawyer asked. They all stopped. "What name?" "The name of the new Kingdom!" Franco set down his candle at once. "Well done!" said he, "the name!" as if it had been a point that must be settled before going to bed. Fresh discussions followed. Piedmont? _Cisalpino?_ Upper Italy?

Italy?

Luisa also was quick to put down her candle, and as the others were not willing to accept his "Italy," Pedraglio set his down also. But finding the debate promised to be a long one, he resumed it, and ran away, repeating: "Italy, Italy, Italy, Italy!" heedless of the "hushes" and admonitions of the others, who were following on tiptoe. They all stopped once more at the foot of the stairs that Pedraglio and the lawyer must ascend to reach their room, and exchanged good-nights. Luisa entered the neighbouring alcove-room; Franco waited to watch his friends upstairs. "Look here!" he suddenly exclaimed. He had been going to speak to them from the foot of the stairs, but finally decided it was better to go up to them. "And what if we are defeated?" he whispered.

The lawyer simply uttered a contemptuous "Nonsense!" but Pedraglio turning like a hyena, seized Franco by the throat. They struggled gaily there on the landing, and then once more said good-night. Pedraglio rushed upwards, while Franco flung himself downstairs.

His wife was waiting for him, standing in the centre of the room, her eyes fixed on the door. When she saw him enter she moved gravely towards him, and folded him in a close embrace. When, after a few moments had elapsed, he moved as though to draw away, she silently pressed him closer. Then Franco understood. She was embracing him now as she had kissed him before, when they had talked of all going to the war. He pressed her temples between his hands, kissed her again and again on the hair, saying gently: "Dearest, think how great she will be afterwards, this Italy!" "Yes, yes!" said she. She raised her face to his, and offered him her lips. She was not crying, but her eyes were moist. To feel himself gazed upon like this, to be kissed thus, was indeed worth a few years of life, for never, never before had her tenderness towards him contained this humility.

"Then," said she, "we shall no longer live in Valsolda. You will be obliged to a.s.sume the duties of a citizen, will you not?"

"Yes, yes, certainly!"

They began to talk eagerly, both he and she, about what they should do after the war, as if to banish the thought of a terrible possibility.

Luisa let down her hair, and went to look at Maria in her little bed.

The child had probably been roused some time before, and had put a tiny finger in her mouth, which, little by little, as sleep returned, had slipped out. Now she was sleeping with her mouth open, and the little finger resting on her chin. "Come here, Franco," said her mother. Both bent over the bed. Maria's small face held the sweetness of paradise.

Husband and wife lingered over her in silence, and then rose, deeply moved. The interrupted conversation was not resumed.

When they were in bed and the light put out, Luisa murmured, on her husband's lips--

"If that day should come, you will go; but I shall go also."

And she would not allow him to answer.

FOOTNOTE:

[L] The Legations were provinces of the Roman state, governed by a legate from Rome. The Marches, Romagna and Umbria. [_Translator's note._]

CHAPTER III

THE GLOVED HAND

To make his joke more complete Pasotti reproached his wife for having repeated to Signor Giacomo Don Giuseppe's speech concerning the necessity of a marriage. The poor deaf woman was thunderstruck; she knew nothing either of a speech or of a marriage, and protested that this was a calumny, entreating her husband not to believe it, and was nearly beside herself because the Controller still appeared to harbour a suspicion. This malicious man was preparing a treat for himself; he was going to tell Signor Giacomo and Don Giuseppe that his wife wished to make amends for the harm she had done, and bring about a truce; in this way he would get all three together at his house, and from behind a door would enjoy the delicious scene that must ensue between the wrathful Signor Giacomo, the terrified Don Giuseppe, and the deaf and distracted Barborin. But his plan failed, for his wife could not wait, and ran off to the "Palace" to clear herself.

She found Don Giuseppe and Maria in a state of the most extraordinary agitation. Something tremendous had happened to them, something that Maria wished to tell, and Don Giuseppe did not. However, the master yielded on condition that she should not shout, but should convey her news by signs. Meeting with opposition on this point also, he, in his prudence, became furious, and the servant did not insist.

A rumour had spread of a case of cholera at Lugano, the victim being a man who had come there from Milan, where the disease had broken out; so Don Giuseppe had arranged to have all provisions for the kitchen come from Porlezza instead of Lugano, and had entrusted the commission to Giacomo Panighet, the postman, who brought the letters to Valsolda, not three times a day, as at present, but twice a week, as was the comfortable custom in the little world of long ago. Now, not five minutes before Signora Pasotti's arrival, Giacomo Panighet had brought the usual basket, and in the bottom of that basket, beneath the cabbages, they had discovered a note addressed to Don Giuseppe. It ran as follows:--