The internal appearance of the factory presented at this moment a sad picture. Many bodies of courageous citizens killed in its defense had been carried to and deposited in an obscure corner of its extensive court-yard. In other corners, lying here and there, were the wounded, and some were also stretched in the rooms upon the ground-floor. But not a groan was heard from these valorous sons of the people.
An immense table, with a candelabrum in the centre, occupied the middle of an extensive saloon on the left side of the front entrance to the building, and on that table could be seen heaps of bandages, slings, cotton-wool, and linen of various kinds—the best which the house could furnish for the use of the wounded. A large vessel of water was under the table—perhaps the most useful relief of all to the wounded sufferers, be it to moisten and cool their wounds by bathing, or to quench the thirst which wounds generally occasion.
Three women of rare and noble beauty moved about in this improvised hospital superintending the wounded, and we recognize in their gentle yet bold mien our three heroines, Clelia, Julia, and Irene.
The poor abandoned Camilla, ignorant of the loss of her Silvio, and with the traces of her past sorrows still lingering on her sweet face, mechanically assisted the three merciful women in their kind attentions to the sufferers. They had awaited their friends in the factory with these preparations as soon as the battle on the bridge commenced, and they received the wounded when the people, driven back, sought refuge in the establishment, and entrenched themselves there. Other women of the people were on the spot also, tending the suffering, and carrying them what relief the circumstances permitted.
"Well, Prince of the Campagna," Attilio might be heard saying to Orazio, "we have seen many strifes, but the one we are in to-night is likely to prove the hardest of all. What consoles me is that our Romans seem to remember the olden times. Look at them, not one turns pale—all are ready to confront death in whatever form it may come."
"On the contrary," answered Orazio, "they laugh, joke, and are as merry as if they were taking a walk to the Foro to empty a foglietta."
"We have still some wine. Let us give a draught of Orvieto all round to these our brave comrades," exclaimed Attilio.
When all had refreshed themselves with a glass of that strengthening cordial, a unanimous and solemn cry of "Viva l'Italia!" rolled forth like thunder from that dense and resolute crowd of Home's desperate defenders.