'A man who is lying in bed knows this,' returned Agostino, 'that he knows less than those who are up, though what he does know he perhaps digests better. 'Tis you who are the fountains, my boys, while I am the pool into which you play. Say on.'
They spoke of the rumour. He smiled at it. They saw at once that the rumour was false, for the Chief trusted Agostino.
'Proceed to Barto, the mole,' he said, 'Barto the miner; he is the father of daylight in the city: of the daylight of knowledge, you understand, for which men must dig deep. Proceed to him;—if you can find him.'
But Carlo brought flame into Agostino's eyes.
'The accursed beast! he has pinned the black butterfly to the signorina's dress.'
Agostino rose on his elbow. He gazed at them. 'We are followers of a blind mole,' he uttered with an inner voices while still gazing wrathfully, and then burst out in grief, '"Patria o mea creatrix, patria o mea genetrix!"'
'The signorina takes none of his warnings, nor do we. She escaped a plot last night, and to-night she sings.'
'She must not,' said Agostino imperiously.
'She does.'
'I must stop that.' Agostino jumped out of bed.