had
brought his flute with him, because music should not be wanting
at an ideal lunch, at which the most Irimalchionian ideas of
food and beverages are handed round. He also had with him a
letter from his family, containing magnificent proposals for
his return to the fold. They even offer him a riding-horse. He
says he has written them that they will soon see him come
dashing up on one of King Victor Emmanuel's horses. Then the
Paduan, who is a wag, said to him with a great assumption of
seriousness, "Ah, my hero! So you are beginning to blow your
own trumpet as well as play the flute!" The flutist was wild,
but presently he calmed down, and played us a nice little tune.
The strange part of it all is that none of us felt hungry.
However, when the meeting was adjourned, we decided that the
'knave's' clothing should be simplified, and that he could get
along without the _justicoat_, known in modern parlance as the
waistcoat.

"Ah! We would all gladly do without dinner as well as lunch if
we could only cross the Ticino with the King in April, 1856! We
talked of this on our way back to the city after the ideal
lunch. The Paduan observed that the water is too cold in April
and that we had better wait until the end of June. We began to
talk about how great Italy will be without the Germans. I
assure you we were all enthusiastic, in spite of the emptiness
of our stomachs. All except the Paduan of course, but of him I
must tell you that if he is reduced almost to the verge of
starvation, it is because he will not tolerate the Austrians,
and that although he is knocking at the door of forty, he will
fight better than some of these young fellows who are now
devouring an Austrian for lunch, and two for dinner! He says we
shall once more become a cat and dog kingdom. 'Mark this, for
example,' he added. 'When the Germans shall have departed, each
of us will return to his own home, and woe to you if you come
and worry me in Padua!' I can almost fancy I am listening to
Uncle Piero, when, at Oria, we used to discuss the greatness
and the splendid future of Italy. 'Yes, yes, yes!' he would
say, 'Yes, yes, yes! The lake will turn into milk and honey,
and the Galbiga will become a Parmesan cheese!'

"We shall see! We shall see!