and, by virtue of her name and mine, obtained a way for him.  How can she have acted so as to give a colour to this infamous scandal?  True or false, it does not affect my love for her.  Still, my dearest, what shall I say?  You keep me divided in two halves.  My heart is out of me; and if I had a will, I think I should be harsh with you.  You are absent from my mother at a time when we are about to strike another blow.  Go to her.  It is kindness; it is charity:  I do not say duty.  I remember that I did write harshly to you from Brescia.  Then our march was so clear in view that a little thing ruffled me.  Was it a little thing?  But to applaud the Traitor now!  To uphold him who has spilt our blood only to hand the country over to the old gaolers!  He lent us his army like a Jew, for huge interest.  Can you not read him?  If not, cease, I implore you, to think at all for yourself.

“Is this a lover’s letter?  I know that my beloved will see the love in it.  To me your acts are fair and good as the chronicle of a saint.  I find you creating suspicion—­almost justifying it in others, and putting your name in the mouth of a madman who denounces you.  I shall not speak more of him.  Remember that my faith in you is unchangeable, and I pray you to have the same in me.

“I sent you a greeting from the Chief.  He marched in the ranks from Bergamo.  I saw him on the line of march strip off his coat to shelter a young lad from the heavy rain.  He is not discouraged; none are who have been near him.

“Angelo is here, and so is our Agostino; and I assure you he loads and fires a carbine much more deliberately than he composes a sonnet.  I am afraid that your adored Antonio-Pericles fared badly among our fellows, but I could gather no particulars.

“Oh! the bright two minutes when I held you right in my heart.  That spot on the Vicentino is alone unclouded.  If I live I will have that bit of ground.  I will make a temple of it.  I could reach it blindfolded.”

A townsman of Milan brought this letter to Vittoria.  She despatched Luigi with her reply, which met the charge in a straightforward affirmative.

“I was driving to Zotti’s by the Greppi palace, when I saw the king come forth, and the people hooted him.  I stood up, and petitioned to kiss his hand.  The people knew me.  They did not hoot any more for some time.

“So that you have heard the truth, and you must judge me by it.  I cannot even add that I am sorry, though I strive to wish that I had not been present.  I might wish it really, if I did not feel it to be a cowardly wish.