At this period there was no suspicion of any grand revolt being in process of development.  The abounding dissatisfaction was treated as nothing more than the Italian disease showing symptoms here and there, and Vienna counselled measures mildly repressive,—­’conciliating,’ it was her pleasure to call them.  Her recent commands with respect to turbulent Venice were the subject of criticism among the circle outside the Piazza Gaffe.  An enforced inactivity of the military legs will quicken the military wits, it would appear, for some of the younger officers spoke hotly as to their notion of the method of ruling Venezia.  One had bidden his Herr General to ‘look here,’ while he stretched forth his hand and declared that Italians were like women, and wanted—­yes, wanted—­(their instinct called for it) a beating, a real beating; as the emphatic would say in our vernacular, a thundering thrashing, once a month:-’Or so,’ the General added acquiescingly.  A thundering thrashing, once a month or so, to these unruly Italians, because they are like women!  It was a youth who spoke, but none doubted his acquaintance with women, or cared to suggest that his education in that department of knowledge was an insufficient guarantee for his fitness to govern Venezia.  Two young dragoon officers had approached during the fervid allocution, and after the salute to their superior, caught up chairs and stamped them down, thereupon calling for the loan of anybody’s cigar-case.  Where it is that an Austrian officer ordinarily keeps this instrument so necessary to his comfort, and obnoxious, one would suppose, to the rigid correctness of his shapely costume, we cannot easily guess.  None can tell even where he stows away his pocket-handkerchief, or haply his purse.  However, these things appear on demand.  Several elongated cigar-cases were thrust forward, and then it was seen that the attire of the gallant youngsters was in disorder.

‘Did you hunt her to earth?’ they were asked.

The reply trenched on philosophy; and consisted in an inquiry as to who cared for the whole basketful—­of the like description of damsels, being implied.  Immoderate and uproarious laughter burst around them.  Both seemed to have been clawed impartially.  Their tightfitting coats bulged at the breast or opened at the waist, as though buttons were lacking, and the whiteness of that garment cried aloud for the purification of pipeclay.  Questions flew.  The damsel who had been pursued was known as a pretty girl, the daughter of a blacksmith, and no prolonged resistance was expected from one of her class.  But, as it came out, she had said, a week past, ‘I shall be stabbed if I am seen talking to you’; and therefore the odd matter was, not that she had, in tripping down the Piazza with her rogue-eyed cousin from Milan, looked away and declined all invitation to moderate her pace and to converse, but that, after doubling down and about lonely streets, the length of which she ran as swiftly as her feet would carry