We are a machine. Now,
you behold, she has faints. It may happen at my concert where she sings
to-morrow night. You saw me in my carriage speaking to a man. He is my
spy--my dog wiz a nose. I have set him upon a woman. If zat woman has a
plot for to-morrow night to spoil my concert, she shall not know
where she shall wake to-morrow morning after. Ha! here is military
music--twenty sossand doors jam on horrid hinge; and right, left,
right, left, to it, confound! like dolls all wiz one face. Look at
your soldiers, Powys. Put zem on a stage, and you see all background
people--a bawling chorus. It shows to you how superior it is--a stage
to life! Hark to such music! I cannot stand it; I am driven away; I am
violent; I rage."

Pericles howled the name of his place of residence, with an offer of
lodgings in it, and was carried off writhing his body as he passed a
fine military marching band.

The figure of old Agostino Balderini stood in front of Merthyr.
They exchanged greetings. At the mention of Rome, Agostino frowned
impatiently. He spoke of Vittoria in two or three short exclamations,
and was about to speak of Carlo, but checked his tongue. "Judge for
yourself. Come, and see, and approve, if you can. Will you come? There's
a meeting; there's to be a resolution. Question--Shall we second the
King of Sardinia, Piedmont, and Savoy? If so, let us set this pumpkin,
called Milan, on its legs. I shall be an attentive listener like you, my
friend. I speak no more."

Merthyr went with him to the house of a carpenter, where in one of the
uppermost chambers communicating with the roof, Ugo Corte, Marco Sana,
Giulio Bandinelli, and others, sat waiting for the arrival of Carlo
Ammiani; when he came Carlo had to bear with the looks of mastiffs for
being late. He shook Merthyr's hand hurriedly, and as soon as the door
was fastened, began to speak. His first sentence brought a grunt of
derision from Ugo Corte. It declared that there was no hope of a rising
in Milan. Carlo swung round upon the Bergamasc. "Observe our leader,"
Agostino whispered to Merthyr; "it would be kindness to give him a
duel." More than one tumult of outcries had to be stilled before Merthyr
gathered any notion of the designs of the persons present. Bergamasc
sneered at Brescian, and both united in contempt of the Milanese, who,
having a burden on their minds, appealed at once to their individual
willingness to use the sword in vindication of Milan against its
t