"I'm sorry for you, Honourable, very sorry," he said. "You've deceived

us all, but now you are seen in your true colours, and apparently

throwing off all disguise."

The Sergeant was so far right that Rossi was another man. Whatever had

been tender and sweet in him was now hard and bitter. The train started

for Rome, and the soldiers drew the straws out of their Tuscan cigars

and smoked. Rossi coiled himself up in his corner and shut his eyes.

Sometimes a sneer curled his lips, sometimes he laughed aloud.

They were travelling by the coast route, and when the train ran into

Genoa a military band at the foot of the monument to Mazzini was playing

the royal hymn. But the festivities of the King's Jubilee were eclipsed

in public interest by the arrest of Rossi and the collapse of the

conspiracy which it was understood to imply. The marshal of the

Carabineers bought the local papers, and one of them was full of details

of "The Great Plot." An exact account was given from a semi-military

standpoint of the plan of the supposed raid. It included the capture of

the arsenal at Genoa and the assassination of the King at Rome.

The train ran through countless tunnels like the air through a flute,

now rumbling in the darkness, now whistling in the light. Rossi closed

his eyes and shut out the torment of passing scenes, and straightway he

was seeing Roma. He could only see her as he had always seen her, with

her golden complexion, her large violet eyes and long curved lashes, her

mouth which had its own gift of smiling, and her glow of health and

happiness. Whatever she had done he knew that he must always love her.

This worked on him like madness, and once again he leapt to his feet and

made for the corridor, whereupon the Carabineers, who had been sleeping,

got up and shut the door.

Night fell, and the moon rose, large and blood-red as a setting sun.

When the train shot on to the Roman Campagna, like a boat gliding into

open sea, the great and solemn desolation seemed more than ever

withdrawn from the sights and sounds of the living world. Rossi

remembered the joy of joys with which he had expected to cross the

familiar country. Then he looked across at the soldiers who were snoring

in their seats.

When the train stopped at Civita Vecchia, the Carabineers opened the

door to the corridor that their prisoner might stretch his legs. Some

evening papers from Rome were handed into the carriage. Rossi put out

his hand to pay for them, and to his surprise it was seized with an

eager grasp. The newsman, who was also carrying a tray of coffee, was a

huge creature, with a white apron and a paper cap.




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