“The most satisfactory act of my life,” pursued Adelardi, “an act that required more courage than to confront death in any other way, was to leave openly, with contempt and horror, those with whom I found myself for a moment thus connected!”
While he was talking, he traversed the room in an agitated manner.
“Since that time,” he continued more calmly, “I have incurred several dangers unnecessary to mention, and suffered in various ways you are aware of. Now, I live here away from my native city, separated from my relatives, and convinced that the day which will change the fate of Italy will never dawn in my time, though I am certain the day will come, and especially certain its most dangerous enemies are not its rulers—not even its most rigid rulers—but those false and perfidious men who are called its friends, its heroes, and sometimes its martyrs!”
The marquis now took his seat beside George, and, pressing his hand, said: “This is quite enough concerning myself. Let us come back to you, whose position, you will acknowledge, it would be absurd to compare with mine.”
“I do acknowledge it; and yet, Adelardi, you would regenerate your country, and I would transform mine.”
“Yes; but in spite of all the defects you say tarnish his reign, history will represent your sovereign, you may be sure, as one of the most noble and most sympathetic representatives of that supreme power so difficult to wield.”
“Well, that is precisely what discourages me. To realize my dreams, the successor of Alexander I. must have all his virtues and not one of his defects. You will acknowledge this is not what the future seems to promise.”
“Let us not begin to draw up his horoscope, but rather listen to my final counsel. In spite of your dreams, your aspirations, your opinions, and your lofty sympathies, I am persuaded nothing will ever induce you to take part in any culpable enterprise in your country. Yes, George, believe a reformed conspirator: avoid all contact with those who, less scrupulous than you in their deeds, make use of nearly the same language, and be sure that, when we come to suffer condemnation, it is infinitely disagreeable to feel it is merrited by foolish imprudence, and that we are the victims of no one but ourselves.”
Their long conversation had widely digressed from the point they started from. It was now too late to resume it. But the Marquis Adelardi resolved to return to it another time, and obtain George’s entire confidence. He fully comprehended his present danger, and regarded it as a duty imposed by friendship to aid him in resisting it. But, in spite of the acuteness of his discernment, he did not foresee that she who was the source of this danger would know better than any one else how to dispel it.