The rejoinder came from the joking gentleman who was master of the mansion in which the conspirators were assembled.
“But is it really so serious?” asked the Russian Grand Duke. “Do you not much overrate the influence of this man?”
“Not any, altesse. We have taken pains to make ourselves acquainted with it. Our emissaries, sent throughout Hungary, report that there is scarce a house in the land where prayers are not nightly put up for him. By grand couch and cottage-bed the child is taught to speak the name of Kossuth more fervently than that of Christ—trained to look to him as its future saviour. What can come of this but another rising—a revolution that may spread to every kingdom in Europe?”
“Do you include the empires?” asked the facetious Englishman, glancing significantly toward the Grand Duke.
“Ay, do I. And the islands, too,” retorted the field-marshal. The Russian grinned. The Prussian diplomatist looked incredulous. Not so the representative of France; who, in a short speech, acknowledged the danger. To his master a European revolution would have been fatal, at to himself.
And yet it was he, whose country had least to fear from it, who suggested the vile plan for its avoidance. It came from the representative of England!
“You think Kossuth is your chief danger?” he said, addressing himself to the Austrian.
“We know it. We don’t care for Mazzini, with his wild schemes on the Italian side. The people there begin to think him mad. Our danger lies upon the Danube.”
“And your safety can only be secured by action on the south side of the Alps.”
“How? In what way? By what action?” were questions simultaneously put by the several conspirators.