“No, no, no!  Something much more tremendous!”

“But tell us, tell us!”

“Sit down, lad!”

“But how is it that we haven’t heard anything about it?”

“How can I tell?  All I know is that bringing you the first news of it is the most glorious thing that’s ever happened to me.  I reached Florence this morning—­they knew all about it there, so I rushed straight out here.  I fancied that perhaps you mightn’t have heard yet—­I ...  I’m all out of breath ...”

“But tell us, tell us quickly!” the mother and daughters cried, drawing their chairs around him.  The father remained at a distance.

“You shall hear, mother—­such things!” the boy began.  “Here, come closer to me.  Well, you know what happened on the morning of the twenty-first?  The rest of the regiments entered; there were the same crowds, the same shouting and music as on the day before.  But suddenly, about midday, the noise stopped as if by common consent, first in the Corso, then in the other principal streets, and so, little by little, all over the city.  The troops of people began to break up into groups, talking to each other in low voices; then they scattered in all directions, taking leave of each other in a way that made one think they meant to meet again.  It seemed as though the signal had been given to prepare for something tremendous.  Men said a hasty word to each other in passing and then hurried on, each going his own way.  The whole Corso was in movement; people were rushing in and out of the houses, calling out from the street and being answered from the windows; soldiers dashed about as though in answer to a summons; cavalry officers trotted by; men and boys passed with bundles of flags on their shoulders and in their arms, all breathless and hurried, as if the devil were after them.  Not knowing a soul, and having no way of finding out what it all meant, I tried to guess what was up from the expression of their faces.  They all looked cheerful enough, but not as frantically glad as they had been; there was a shade of doubt, of anxiety.  One could see they were planning something.  From the Corso I wandered on through some of the narrower streets, stopping now and then to watch one of the groups.  Everywhere I saw the same thing—­crowds of people, all in a hurry, all coming and going, with the same air that I had already noticed in the Corso, of concealing from somebody what they were doing, although it was all being done in the open.  Knots, bands, hundreds of men and women passed me in silence; they were all going in the same direction, as though to some appointed meeting-place.”

“Where were they going?” the father and mother interrupted.