"Only thirteen hours more. Then perhaps I shall never trouble you again." At that moment Uncle Piero entered and announced that dinner was ready. Luisa took her husband's hand and pressed it in silence; it was not a lover-like pressure, but it told him she shared his emotion.
At dinner neither Franco nor Luisa could eat. But the uncle had a good appetite, and talked a great deal. He did not approve of Franco's enlisting. "What sort of a soldier do you expect to become?" said he. "What will you do without your camphor, your sedative water, and all the rest?"
Franco replied that he had cast aside all remedies, that he felt as if he were of steel, and that he should become the most robust soldier of the whole ninth regiment. "Maybe," the uncle grumbled, "maybe. And you, Luisa, what do you say about it?" Luisa believed it would be as her husband had said. "Then that is enough!" the uncle cried. "And so, hurrah!" He had a great opinion of the strength of Austria, and did not view matters in the same rosy light as did Franco. According to Franco there was not the slightest doubt that the Italians would be victorious. He had seen one of Niel's adjutants, who had come to Turin on a secret mission, and had heard him say to some staff officers: "Nous allons supprimer l'Autriche!" Of course they fully expected to leave at least fifty thousand Italians and Frenchmen between the Ticino and the Isonzo.
"Excuse me, Signori," said the waiter who was serving them, "but did the gentlemen speak of enlisting in the ninth regiment?"
"Yes."
"The Queen's Brigade! A splendid brigade! I served in the tenth. We covered ourselves with glory in 1848, as you may remember. Goito, Santo Lucia, Governolo, and Volta. Now it will be your turn."
"We will do our best."
Luisa shuddered slightly. The English people, who were dining at a table near them, heard this dialogue and looked at Franco. For some minutes no one in the room spoke; there passed before them the vision of a column of infantry charging with fixed bayonets, amidst a shower of grapeshot.
After dinner the uncle remained at the hotel for his usual nap, and Franco went out with Luisa. They turned to the right towards the Palace. It was rather dark and a few infrequent drops of rain were falling. The steps leading from the shore to the courtyard of the villa were slippery, and Franco offered his arm to his wife, who took it in silence. They stopped between the deserted courtyard and the stairs that lead to the landing-stage, to count the hours which the clock on the Palace was ringing out. Six o'clock. Two hours had passed, and there now remained only eleven before the separation, before the unknown! They walked on slowly and silently, following the straight path between the lake and the side of the Palace, as far as the corner which commands a view of the Isola dei Pescatori, where some lights were already visible. Two women came towards them, chattering, and walking arm in arm. Franco allowed them to pass, and then asked his wife if she remembered the Rancò.
Two years before their marriage they had made an excursion with a party of friends to Drano and the Rancò, high pasture-lands of the Valsolda, on the way to the Passo Stretto. They had had a lively dispute, and had sulked and suffered for an hour. "Yes," Luisa replied, "I remember." At the same moment both realised how different was the present hour, and how painful it was to have to admit the difference. They did not speak again until they reached the corner. Bells rang out on the Isola dei Pescatori. Franco dropped his wife's arm, and leaned upon the parapet. The misty lake was silent; nothing was to be seen save the lights on the other island. The lake, the mist, those lights, those bells, which might have belonged to a ship lost at sea, the silence of all things, even the infrequent, tiny rain-drops, everything was so sad!