“No; he speaks of Garibaldi,” said Maitland.
“Garibaldi!” cried Caraffa, laughing. “And are there still gobemouches in England who believe in the Filibuster?”
“I believe in him, for one,” said Maitland, fiercely, for the phrase irritated him; “and I say, too, that such a Filibuster on our side would be worth thirty thousand of those great hulking grenadiers you passed in review this morning.”
“Don't tell the King so when you wait on him to-morrow, that's all!” said the Minister, with a sneering smile.
“Read on,” broke in Caffarelli, who was not at all sure what the discussion might lead to.
“Perhaps, too, you would class Count Cavour amongst these gobemouches,” said Maitland, angrily; “for he is also a believer in Garibaldi.”
“We can resume this conversation at Caserta to-morrow before his Majesty,” said Caraffa, with the same mocking smile; “pray, now, let me hear the remainder of that despatch.”
“'It is not easy to say,'” read he aloud from the letter, “'what France intends or wishes. C. says—'”
“Who is C.?” asked Caraffa, hastily.
“C. means Cowley, probably,—'that the Emperor would not willingly see Piedmontese troops at Naples; nor is he prepared to witness a new map of the Peninsula. We, of course, will do nothing either way—'”