"The customs-guards," whispered Franco. While the guards' long-boat was passing beneath the window, Pedraglio said: "D—— hogs!" in such a loud tone, that the others hushed him. The long-boat floated past. Franco looked out of the window.
It was cool; the moon was sinking towards the hills of Carona, streaking the lake with long, gilded stripes. What a strange sensation it gave him to contemplate that quiet solitude, with a great war so near at hand! The dark, sad mountains seemed to be thinking of the formidable future. Franco closed the window, and the conversation began again in low tones round the little table. Each one had his own suppositions concerning future events, and all spoke of these events as of a drama, of which the manuscript was lying quite ready, down to the very last verse, with all its stops and commas in place, in Count Cavour's writing-desk. V., who was a Bonapartist, saw clearly that Napoleon intended to avenge his uncle, overthrowing one after another, the parties to the Holy Alliance; to-day Russia, to-morrow Austria. But Franco, on the other hand, who was mistrustful of the emperor, attributed the Sardinian alliance to the good-will of England, but acknowledged that as soon as this alliance would be proclaimed, Austria, sacrificing her own interests to principles and hatred, would cast in her lot with Russia, and therefore Napoleon would be obliged to fight her. "Listen," said his wife, "I am afraid Austria will come over to the side of Piedmont," "Impossible!" said the lawyer. Franco felt alarmed, and admired the acuteness of the observation, but Pedraglio exclaimed: "Nonsense! Those blockheads are too great asses to think out a trick like that!" This argument appeared decisive, and no one save Luisa gave the possibility another thought. They began discussing plans for the campaign, plans for insurrections, but here they could not agree. V. knew the men and the mountains of the Lake of Como from Colico to Como and Lecco, better perhaps than any one else. And everywhere all along the lake, in Val Menaggio, in Vall 'Intelvi, in Valsassina, in the Tre Pievi, he knew those who were devoted to the cause, and even ready to strike the blow at a sign from the Scior Avocât. He and Franco considered any insurrectional movement useful that might serve to distract part of the Austrian forces even for a moment. But Luisa and Pedraglio were of opinion that all the able-bodied men should hasten to swell the Piedmontese battalions. "We women will make the revolution," said Luisa, with her mock gravity. "I, for my part, will pitch Carlascia into the lake!"
They still conversed in an undertone, with an electric current in their veins that flashed from their eyes, and made their nerves tingle; enjoying this hushed talk behind closed doors and windows, the danger of being in possession of that letter, the glowing life they felt in their blood, and those intoxicating words they were always repeating: Piedmont, War, Cavour, Duke of Genoa, Victor Emmanuel, Cannon, Bersaglieri.
"Do you know what time it is?" said Pedraglio, consulting his watch. "It is half-past twelve! Let us go to bed."
Luisa went for the candles, and lighted them, standing the while, but no one moved, so she also sat down again. When he saw the candles lighted, even Pedraglio himself lost his desire to go to bed.
"A fine kingdom!" said he.
"Piedmont," said Franco, "Lombardy-Venice, Parma, and Modena."
"And the Legations!" [L] V. added.
More discussions followed. All wished for the Legations, especially the lawyer and Luisa, but Franco and Pedraglio were afraid to touch them, fearing to stir up difficulties. They grew so warm that Pedraglio entreated his companions to "scream" in an undertone. "Scream softly, children!" Then it was V.'s turn to propose going to bed. He took his candle in his hand but did not rise.
"Body of Bacchus!" said he, not knowing whether he meant it as a conclusion or an exhortation. Indeed he had a terrible desire to talk, and to hear others talk, but could find nothing new to say. "Body of Bacchus it is indeed!" Franco exclaimed, who was in much the same state of mind. A long silence ensued. At last Pedraglio said, "Well?" and rose. "Shall we go?" said Luisa, leading the way. "And the name?" the lawyer asked. They all stopped. "What name?" "The name of the new Kingdom!" Franco set down his candle at once. "Well done!" said he, "the name!" as if it had been a point that must be settled before going to bed. Fresh discussions followed. Piedmont? Cisalpino? Upper Italy? Italy?