EPISODES OF THE REVOLT AND THE WAR—­THE TOBACCO-RIOTS—­RINALDO GUIDASCARPI

Anna von Lenkenstein was one who could wait for vengeance.  Lena punished on the spot, and punished herself most.  She broke off her engagement with Wilfrid, while at the same time she caused a secret message to be conveyed to him, telling him that the prolongation of his residence in Meran would restore him to his position in the army.

Wilfrid remained at Meran till the last days of December.

It was winter in Milan, turning to the new year—­the year of flames for continental Europe.  A young man with a military stride, but out of uniform, had stepped from a travelling carriage and entered a cigar-shop.  Upon calling for cigars, he was surprised to observe the woman who was serving there keep her arms under her apron.  She cast a look into the street, where a crowd of boys and one or two lean men had gathered about the door.  After some delay, she entreated her customer to let her pluck his cloak halfway over the counter; at the same time she thrust a cigar-box under that concealment, together with a printed song in the Milanese dialect.  He lifted the paper to read it, and found it tough as Russ.  She translated some of the more salient couplets.  Tobacco had become a dead business, she said, now that the popular edict had gone forth against ‘smoking gold into the pockets of the Tedeschi.’  None smoked except officers and Englishmen.

“I am an Englishman,” he said.

“And not an officer?” she asked; but he gave no answer.  “Englishmen are rare in winter, and don’t like being mobbed,” said the woman.

Nodding to her urgent petition, he deferred the lighting of his cigar.  The vetturino requested him to jump up quickly, and a howl of “No smoking in Milan—­fuori!—­down with tobacco-smokers!” beset the carriage.  He tossed half-a-dozen cigars on the pavement derisively.  They were scrambled for, as when a pack of wolves are diverted by a garment dropped from the flying sledge, but the unluckier hands came after his heels in fuller howl.  He noticed the singular appearance of the streets.  Bands of the scum of the population hung at various points:  from time to time a shout was raised at a distance, “Abasso il zigarro! “and “Away with the cigar!” went an organized file-firing of cries along the open place.  Several gentlemen were mobbed, and compelled to fling the cigars from their teeth.  He saw the polizta in twos and threes taking counsel and shrugging, evidently too anxious to avoid a collision.  Austrian soldiers and subalterns alone smoked freely; they puffed the harder when the yells and hootings and whistlings thickened at their heels.  Sometimes they walked on at their own pace; or, when the noise swelled to a crisis, turned and stood fast, making an exhibition of curling smoke, as a mute form of contempt.  Then commenced hustlings and a tremendous uproar;