ved
she was without imagination because she did not feel it move, because in
her it was less easily inflamed. She would have laughed had she been
told that imagination was more powerful in her than in her husband. But
indeed such was the case. Only, in order to demonstrate this, both souls
must be turned upside down, for Franco's imagination was visible on the
surface of his soul, and all his reason was at the bottom, while in
Luisa's soul imagination was at the bottom, and reason was plainly
visible on the surface. In fact, she did not sleep, but all night long
she thought, with that imagination that lay at the bottom of her soul,
how religion favours weak sentimentality, how incapable it is, even
while preaching the thirst for justice, of forming a correct sense of
justice in those intellects which are devoted to it.

* * * * *

The Professor also, who was subject to serious infiltrations of
imagination into the ratiocinative cells of his brain, as well as into
the amorous cells of his heart, having put out the light, spent the
greater part of the night in front of the fireplace, working with the
tongs and with his imagination, taking up, examining and then dropping
embers and projects, until only one glowing coal and one last idea
remained. Then he took a match, and having held it in contact with the
ember, lighted the lamp once more, seized the idea, which was also hot
and luminous, and carried it off to bed with him.

This was the idea. He would start secretly for Brescia, present himself
before the Marchesa with the terrible document, and obtain a
capitulation.

CHAPTER VII

THE PROFESSOR PLAYS HIS TRUMP CARD

Three days later, in Milan, at five o'clock in the morning, Professor
Gilardoni, muffled up to the eyes, issued from the Albergo degli Angeli,
passed in front of the cathedral, turned into the dark street called dei
Rastrelli behind a line of horses led by postilions, and entered the
booking office of the public coaches. The little courtyard where the
post-office now stands, was already full of people, of horses, of
lanterns. To the hermit of Valsolda all these voices of postilions and
of guards, this stamping of horses and jingling of bells, seemed like a
real pandemonium.

The horses were being harnessed to two coaches, four to each. The
Professor was going to Lodi because he had learned that the Marchesa was
visiting a friend there, and the Lodi coach would