The vast multitude that reached into the shadow of the night were cheering and singing. Their shouts and songs must have reached even the ears of the German ambassador at the Villa Malta a few blocks away. The signora had forgotten her grenadier, her dislike of the poet, and for the moment was caught up in the emotion of the crowd. Bianca was singing the familiar hymn.... Suddenly there was a hush; light fell upon the upturned faces from an opened window on a balcony in the Hotel Regina. The poet stood forth in the band of yellow light and looked down upon the dense throng beneath. In the stillness his words began to fall, very slowly, very clearly, as if each was a graven message for his people. And the Roman youth all about me swayed and sighed, seizing each colored word, divining its heroic symbol, drinking thirstily the ardor of the poet.
“The light has not wholly gone from the Aurelian wall ... fifty years ago at this hour the leader of the Thousand and his heroic company.... We will not be a museum, an inn, a water-color in Prussian blue!...”
The double line of soldiers behind us had forgotten their formation and were pressing forward to catch each word. The signora was gazing at the man with fascinated eyes. Bianca’s little hand tightened unconsciously on mine, and her lips parted in a smile. The poet’s words were falling into her eager heart. He was speaking for her, for all the ardent youth of Italy:
“Viva! Viva Roma senza onta! Viva la grande é pura Italia!...”
The voice ceased: for one moment there was complete silence; then a cheer that was half a sigh broke from the crowd. But the blade of light faded, the poet was gone. When at last I got the Maironis into a cab there were bright tears in Bianca’s eyes and the mother’s face was troubled.
“Perhaps it has to be,” the signora murmured.
“Of course!” Bianca echoed sharply, raising her little head defiantly. “What else could Italy do?”
The streets were rapidly emptying. Some companies of infantry that had been policing the city all day marched wearily past. Bianca jumped up quickly.
“They’re granatieri! And there’s ’Rico’s captain!”
The sympathetic cab-driver pulled up his horse while the soldiers tramped by.