D] are not wanting here either,"
remarked the Marchese pointedly, and slightly accentuating the words.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] _Breva_: local name for a sudden, violent wind blowing from the
north, and sweeping over the Italian lakes. [_Translator's note._]

[B] _Tarocchi_: a game of cards once much in vogue in Italy. The
"_Mondo_," the "_Matto_," the "_Bagatto_," which will be referred to
later on, are all picture cards used in this game. [_Translator's
note._]

[C] The _breva_ of 1848 means the revolution which swept over Italy in
that year, after which the country sunk into apparent calm, but all the
while the people, chafing under the Austrian yoke, were preparing for
the mighty effort which, at last, set them free. [_Translator's note._]

[D] _Tartufo_: often used to indicate those who are hypocritically
pious. The word "black" refers to the priest's black robe.
[_Translator's note._]

CHAPTER II

ON THE THRESHOLD OF A NEW LIFE

"Scoundrels!" snorted Don Franco, climbing the stairs that led to his
room. "Silly ass of an Austrian!" He was venting his wrath on Pasotti,
as he could not hurl insults at his grandmother, and the very letters of
the word _Austrian_ served so well to grind between his teeth, as he
ground his rage, crushing it and enjoying its flavour. When he reached
his room his burning indignation died out.

He threw himself into a chair opposite the open window, and gazed at the
lake, lying still and mournful in the cloudy afternoon, and at the
lonely mountains beyond the sheet of water. He drew a long breath. Ah!
how well he felt here all alone! Ah! what peace! How different the
atmosphere was to that of the drawing-room! What a precious atmosphere,
full of his thoughts and of his loves! He felt a great need of giving
himself up to them, and they at once took possession of him, driving
from his mind the Carabellis, Pasotti, his grandmother and that
egregious beast, the receiver of customs. They? No, one thought alone; a
thought composed of mingled love and reason, of anxiety and joy, of so
many sweet memories, and at the same time, of tremulous expectancy, for
something solemn was drawing near, and would come to him in the shadows
of the night. Franco looked at his watch. It wanted a quarter to four
o'clock. Seven hours longer to wait. He rose, and leaned with folded
arms upon the window sill.

In seven hours another life would begin for him. Beyond the few persons
who were to have a pa