“All is possible, Sir Arthur, to power properly exercised. I 'll go down at once to the War Office, and see what can be done.”
“If it were perfectly safe,” said Bella, “I should like to drive through the streets and see what is going on; and as Alice refuses to go out, we are just enough for one carriage.” The project was agreed to, all the more readily that Skeff assured them his presence was au aegis that all parties would know how to respect; he was, in fact, as he put it, a sort of emblematized British lion, who with folded paws was about to take an airing for his own amusement.
“As we drive along,” whispered he to Bella, “just watch the recognitions fellows will throw me,—a look, a gesture, a sign, scarcely perceptible, but enough to say, 'Your Excellency may depend upon us.'”
And Bella felt a certain elation at the thought that she was the chosen one of a man so eminent and so distinguished. And, oh dear, let us not be severe upon her for it! If we could not make occasional swans of our geese in this life, we should be very ill off in matters of ornithology. Away they drove down the Chiaja and up the Toledo, where, amidst wild yells and cries for the King, and at times for Garibaldi, a dense mass of people surged and swayed like a mighty monster awaking out of slumber and arousing to deeds of violence.
The populace seemed intoxicated, but not with wine or with joy, but a sort of dare-devil recklessness which sought something—anything—to vent its passion upon. Lines of men linked arm in arm, and, filling the full breadth of the street, marched rapidly on, chanting wild songs; and it was strange to mark in these the old gray-headed feeble man coupled with the stalwart youth, or, perhaps, the mere boy. Here and there were groups listening to some street-orator, now greeting his words with a cheer, now with a burst of vociferous laughter; and through all these went other men, busily, eagerly whispering to this, conferring with that, now exerting every effort of persuasiveness, now seeming to employ incentives to vengeance.
Except the carriage where sat the Lyles, not another vehicle of any kind was to be seen; and as the horses moved slowly along through the dense crowd, many a rude jest and droll comment was passed upon the matti Inglesi,—the mad English,—who had taken such a time and place for a carriage airing. Nor was the courage of the act unrecognized, and twice or thrice a wild cheer proclaimed what they thought of a nation whose very ladies were above all fear and timidity.
The most striking, feature in all this tumult was that soldiers were seen everywhere mixed up with the civilians; not merely furloughed men in undress, but soldiers in full uniform and perfectly armed, but yet displaying, sometimes ostentatiously, by the way they carried their shakoes or their bayonets, or wore their coats open and unbuttoned, that they no longer respected the claims of discipline.
Patrols on foot or horseback would be met, too; but the men, under no restraint, would not only exchange words of greeting with the mob, but accept offers of wine or cigars; and it was seen that the officers were either powerless to prevent or unwilling to curb this indiscipline.
“What does all this portend, Damer?” asked Sir Arthur. “We hear cheers for the King; but all I see seems to threaten his downfall.”
Skeffy was puzzled, and a wiser man might have been puzzled; but his diplomatic instincts forbade such a humiliating avowal, and so he merely muttered something to the purport that “We” had not fully determined what was to be the issue; and that till “We” had made up our minds, all these signs and portents were mere street-noises.