“The wound has not produced a shock to her system—­very, very fortunately.  On the whole, a better thing could not have happened.  Should I be more explicit?  Yes, to you; for you are not of those who see too much in what is barely said.  The wound, then, my dear good friend, has healed another wound, of which I knew nothing.  Bergamasc and Brescian friends of her husband’s, have imagined that she interrupted or diverted his studies.  He also discovered that she had an opinion of her own, and sometimes he consulted it; but alas! they are lovers, and he knew not when love listened, or she when love spoke; and there was grave business to be done meanwhile.  Can you kindly allow that the case was open to a little confusion?  I know that you will.  He had to hear many violent reproaches from his fellow-students.  These have ceased.  I send this letter on the chance of the first being lost on the road; and it will supplement the first pleasantly to you in any event.  She lies here in the room where I write, propped on high pillows, the right arm bound up, and says:  ’Tell Merthyr I prayed to be in Rome with my husband, and him, and the Chief.  Tell him I love my friend.  Tell him I think he deserves to be in Rome.  Tell him—­’ Enter Countess Ammiani to reprove her for endangering the hopes of the house by fatiguing herself.  Sandra sends a blush at me, and I smile, and the countess kisses her.  I send you a literal transcript of one short scene, so that you may feel at home with us.

“There is a place called Venice, and there is a place called Rome, and both places are pretty places and famous places; and there is a thing called the fashion; and these pretty places and famous places set the fashion:  and there is a place called Milan, and a place called Bergamo, and a place called Brescia, and they all want to follow the fashion, for they are giddy-pated baggages.  What is the fashion, mama?  The fashion, my dear, is &c. &c. &c.:—­Extract of lecture to my little daughter, Amalia, who says she forgets you; but Giacomo sends his manly love.  Oh, good God! should I have blood in my lips when I kissed him, if I knew that he was old enough to go out with a sword in his hand a week hence?  I seem every day to be growing more and more all mother.  This month in front of us is full of thunder.  Addio!”

When Merthyr stood in sight of Milan an army was issuing from the gates.

CHAPTER XLI

THE INTERVIEW

Merthyr saw Laura first.  He thought that Vittoria must be lying on her couch:  but Laura simply figured her arm in a sling, and signified, more than said, that Vittoria was well and taking the air.  She then begged hungrily for news of Rome, and again of Rome, and sat with her hands clasped in her lap to listen.  She mentioned Venice in a short breath of praise, as if her spirit could not repose there.  Rome, its hospitals, its municipal arrangements, the