He felt some secret misgivings, but did not lose his head, and went quietly away with the two men. At the station a little impudent Commissary asked him why he had come to Lodi, and upon being informed that he had come on private business shrugged his shoulders in contemptuous incredulity. What private business did Signor Gilardoni pretend to have in Lodi? With whom? The Professor mentioned the Marchesa. "There are no Maironis at Lodi," the Commissary exclaimed, and when his victim protested he speedily interrupted him. "Basta! That will do! That will do!" The police knew for a certainty that Professor Gilardoni, although he was an Imperial and Royal pensioner, was not a loyal Austrian; that he had friends at Lugano, and that he had come to Lodi for political ends.
"You are better informed than I am," Gilardoni exclaimed, restraining his wrath with difficulty.
"Silence!" the Commissary commanded. "You must not think the Imperial and Royal government is afraid of you. You are free to go, but you must leave Lodi within two hours."
At this point Franco would have immediately perceived from whence the blow came, but the philosopher did not understand.
"I came to Lodi on most urgent business, which is not yet finished," said he. "On most important, private business. How can I leave in two hours?"
"By carriage. If you are still in Lodi at the end of two hours I shall have you arrested."
"My health does not permit me to travel at night in December," the victim urged.
"Very well, then I will have you arrested at once!"
The poor philosopher took up his hat in silence, and went out.
An hour later he started for Milan in a closed calash, his feet embedded in straw, a rug over his legs, a great muffler round his neck, reflecting that this had been a most successful expedition, and swallowing momently to see if his throat were sore. He passed a horrible night, indeed, but the Marchesa herself did not rest on a bed of roses.