The lines read as if Laura were uttering them.  Wrapping her cloak across the silken opera garb, Vittoria leaned back passively until the carriage stopped at a village inn, where Giacinta made speedy arrangements to satisfy as far as possible her mistress’s queer predilection for bathing her whole person daily in cold water.  The household service of the inn recovered from the effort to assist her sufficiently to produce hot coffee and sweet bread, and new green-streaked stracchino, the cheese of the district, which was the morning meal of the fugitives.  Giacinta, who had never been so thirsty in her life, became intemperately refreshed, and was seized by the fatal desire to do something:  to do what she could not tell; but chancing to see that her mistress had silken slippers on her feet, she protested loudly that stouter foot-gear should be obtained for her, and ran out to circulate inquiries concerning a shoemaker who might have a pair of country overshoes for sale.  She returned to say that the coachman and his comrade, the German chasseur, were drinking and watering their horses, and were not going to start until after a rest of two hours, and that she proposed to walk to a small Bergamasc town within a couple of miles of the village, where the shoes could be obtained, and perhaps a stuff to replace the silken dress.  Receiving consent, Giacinta whispered, ’A man outside wishes to speak to you, signorina.  Don’t be frightened.  He pounced on me at the end of the village, and had as little breath to speak as a boy in love.  He was behind us all last night on the carriage.  He mentioned you by name.  He is quite commonly dressed, but he’s a gallant gentleman, and exactly like our Signor Carlo.  My dearest lady, he’ll be company for you while I am absent.  May I beckon him to come into the room?’

Vittoria supposed at once that this was a smoothing of the way for the entrance of her lover and her joy.  She stood up, letting all her strength go that he might the more justly take her and cherish her.  But it was not Carlo who entered.  So dead fell her broken hope that her face was repellent with the effort she made to support herself.  He said, ’I address the Signorina Vittoria.  I am a relative of Countess Ammiani.  My name is Angelo Guidascarpi.  Last night I was evading the sbirri in this disguise by the private door of La Scala, from which I expected Carlo to come forth.  I saw him seized in mistake for me.  I jumped up on the empty box-seat behind your carriage.  Before we entered the village I let myself down.  If I am seen and recognized, I am lost, and great evil will befall Countess Ammiani and her son; but if they are unable to confront Carlo and me, my escape ensures his safety!

‘What can I do?’ said Vittoria.

He replied, ‘Shall I answer you by telling you what I have done?’

’You need not, signore!

’Enough that I want to keep a sword fresh for my country.  I am at your mercy, signorina; and I am without anxiety.  I heard the chasseur saying at the door of La Scala that he had the night-pass for the city gates and orders for the Tyrol.  Once in Tyrol I leap into Switzerland.  I should have remained in Milan, but nothing will be done there yet, and quiet cities are not homes for me.’