These I let pass in jingling line; 30
And, close on them, dear noisy crew,
The peasants from the village, too;
For at the very rear would troop
Their wives and sisters in a group
To help, I knew.  When these had passed,
I threw my glove to strike the last,
Taking the chance:  she did not start,
Much less cry out, but stooped apart,
One instant rapidly glanced round,
And saw me beckon from the ground. 40
A wild bush grows and hides my crypt;
She picked my glove up while she stripped
A branch off, then rejoined the rest
With that; my glove lay in her breast: 
Then I drew breath; they disappeared: 
It was for Italy I feared.

An hour, and she returned alone
Exactly where my glove was thrown. 
Meanwhile came many thoughts:  on me
Rested the hopes of Italy. 50
I had devised a certain tale
Which, when ’twas told her, could not fail
Persuade a peasant of its truth;
I meant to call a freak of youth
This hiding, and give hopes of pay,
And no temptation to betray. 
But when I saw that woman’s face,
Its calm simplicity of grace,
Our Italy’s own attitude
In which she walked thus far, and stood, 60
Planting each naked foot so firm,
To crush the snake and spare the worm—­
At first sight of her eyes, I said,
“I am that man upon whose head
They fix the price, because I hate
The Austrians over us; the State
Will give you gold—­oh, gold so much!—­
If you betray me to their clutch. 
And be your death, for aught I know,
If once they find you saved their foe. 70
Now, you must bring me food and drink,
And also paper, pen and ink,
And carry safe what I shall write
To Padua, which you’ll reach at night
Before the duomo shuts; go in,
And wait till Tenebrae deg. begin; deg.76
Walk to the third confessional,
Between the pillar and the wall,
And kneeling whisper, Whence comes peace?
Say it a second time, then cease; 80
And if the voice inside returns,
From Christ and Freedom; what concerns
The cause of Peace?—­for answer, slip
My letter where you placed your lip;
Then come back happy we have done
Our mother service—­I, the son,
As you the daughter of our land!”

Three mornings more, she took her stand
In the same place, with the same eyes: 
I was no surer of sun-rise 90
Than of her coming.  We conferred
Of her own prospects, and I heard
She had a lover—­stout and tall,
She said—­then let her eyelids fall,
“He could do much”—­as if some doubt
Entered her heart,—­then, passing out,