nd hereafter--I oppose
the pure ideal of absolute freedom--freedom to each separate soul to
work out for itself its own innate convictions--freedom to form its
independent destiny. Freedom in state, freedom in church, freedom in
religion, literature, commerce, government--freedom as boundless as
the sunshine that fructifies the teeming earth! Freedom of thought
necessitates freedom in government. As the soul wings itself toward
the light of simple truth, so should the body politic aspire to
perfect freedom. This can only be found in a pure republic; a republic
where all men are equal--where each man lives for the other in living
for himself--where brother cleaves to brother as his own flesh--family
is knit to family--one, yet many--one, yet of all nations!"

"Communism, in fact!" burst forth the cavaliere. His piping voice,
now hoarse with rage, quivered. "You are here to form a communistic
association! God help us!"

"I care not what you call it," cried the count, with a rising
passion. "My faith, my hope, is the ideal of freedom as opposed to the
abstraction of hierarchical superstition and monarchic tyranny. What
are popes, kings, princes, and potentates, to me who deem all men
equal? It is by a republic alone that we can regenerate our beloved,
our unfortunate Italy, now tossed between a debauched monarch--a
traitor, who yielded Savoy--an effete Parliament--a pack of lawyers
who represent nothing but their own interests, and a pope--the
recreant of Gaeta! The sooner our ideas are circulated, the sooner
they will permeate among the masses. Already the harvest has been
great elsewhere. I am here to sow, to reap, and to gather. For this
end--mark me, cavaliere, I entreat you--I am here, for none other."

Here the triumphant patriot became suddenly embarrassed. He stopped,
hesitated, stopped again, took breath, and sighed; then turned full
upon Trenta, in order to obtain some response to the appeal he had
addressed to him. But again Trenta, sullenly silent, had buried
himself in the depths of the arm-chair, and was, so to say, invisible.

"For this end" (a mournful cadence came into the count's voice when he
at length proceeded) "I am ready to sacrifice my life. My life!--what
is that? I am ready to sacrifice my love--ay, my love--the love of the
only woman who fulfills the longings of my poetic soul."

The count ceased speaking. The fair Enrica, with her tender smile,
and patient, chastened loveliness--Enrica, as