ew honester
patriots in Italy than the Count of Syracuse."

Giacomo smiled, and showed a range of white teeth, with a pleasant air
of acquiescence.

"And what is stirring?--what news have you for us, Giacomo?" asked
Caffarelli.

"Nothing, Eccellenza,--positively nothing. The French seem rather to be
growing tired of us Italians, and begin to ask, 'What, in the name of
wonder, do we really want?' and even his Majesty the Emperor t' other
day said to one of ours, 'Don't be importunate.'"

"And will you tell me that the Emperor would admit to his presence and
speak with fellows banded in a plot against his life?" asked Maitland,
contemptuously.

"Does the noble signor know that the Emperor was a Carbonaro once, and
that he never forgets it? Does the noble signor know that there has not
been one plot against his life--not one--of which he has not been duly
apprised and warned?"

"If I understand you aright, Master Giacomo, then, it is that these
alleged schemes of assassination are simply plots to deliver up to the
Emperor the two or three amongst you who may be sincere in their blood
thirstiness. Is that so?"

Far from seeming offended at the tone or the tenor of this speech,
Giacomo smiled good-naturedly, and said, "I perceive that the
noble signor is not well informed either as to our objects or our
organization; nor does he appear to know, as your Excellency knows, that
all secret societies have a certain common brotherhood."

"What! does he mean when opposed to each other?"

"He does, and he is right, Maitland. As bankers have their
changing-houses, these fellows have their appointed places of meeting;
and you might see a Jesuit in talk with a Garibaldian, and a wild
revolutionist with one of the Pope's household."

"The real pressure of these fellows," whispered the Count, still lower,
"is menace! Menace it was brought about the war with Austria, and it
remains to be seen if menace cannot undo its consequences. Killing a
king is trying an unknown remedy; threatening to kill him is coercing
his policy. And what are you about just now, Giacomo?" added he, louder.

"Little jobs here and there, signor, as I get them; but this morning,
as I was mending a small organ at the Duc de Broglie's, an agent of the
police called to say I had better leave Paris."

"And when?"

"To-night, sir. I leave by the midnight mail for Lyons, and shall be in
Turin by Saturday."

"And will the authorities take his word, and s