of faults.  He must command; he must be a chief; he fancies he can intrigue poor thing!  It will pass.  And so will the hour to be forward to Rome.  But I call your attention to this:  when he heard of the dagger—­I have it from Colonel Corte, who was with him at the time in Turin—­he cried out Violetta d’Isorella’s name.  Why?  After he had buried his head an hour on Sandra’s pillow, he went straight to Countess d’Isorella, and was absent till night.  The woman is hideous to me.  No; don’t conceive that I think her Sandra’s rival.  She is too jealous.  She has him in some web.  If she has not ruined him, she will.  She was under my eyes the night she heard of his marriage:  I saw how she will look at seventy!  Here is Carlo at the head of a plot she has prepared for him; and he has Angelo Guidascarpi, and Ugo Corte, Marco Sana, Giulio Bandinelli, and about fifty others.  They have all been kept away from Rome by that detestable ----- you object to hear bad names cast on women, Merthyr.  Hear Agostino!  The poor old man comes daily to this house to persuade Carlo to lead his band to Rome.  It is so clearly Rome—­Rome, where all his comrades are; where the chief stand must be made by the side of Italy’s Chief.  Worst sign of all, it has been hinted semi-officially to Carlo that he may upon application be permitted to re-issue his journal.  Does not that show that the Government wishes to blindfold him, and keep him here, and knows his plans?”

Laura started up as the door opened, and Vittoria appeared leaning upon Carlo’s arm.  Countess Ammiani, Countess d’Isorella, and Pericles were behind them.  Laura’s children followed.

When Merthyr rose, Vittoria was smiling in Carlo’s face at something that had been spoken.  She was pale, and her arm was in a sling, but there was no appearance of her being unnerved.  Merthyr waited for her recognition of him.  She turned her eyes from Carlo slowly.  The soft dull smile in them died out as it were with a throb, and then her head drooped on one shoulder, and she sank to the floor.

CHAPTER XLII

THE SHADOW ON CONSPIRACY

Merthyr left the house at Laura’s whispered suggestion.  He was agitated beyond control, for Vittoria had fallen with her eyes fixed on him; and at times the picture of his beloved, her husband, and Countess Ammiani, and the children bending over her still body, swam before him like a dark altar-piece floating in incense, so lost was he to the reality of that scene.  He did not hear Beppo, his old servant, at his heels.  After a while he walked calmly, and Beppo came up beside him.  Merthyr shook his hand.

“Ah, signor Mertyrio! ah, padrone!” said Beppo.

Merthyr directed his observation to a regiment of Austrians marching down the Corso Venezia to the Ticinese gate.

“Yes, they are ready enough for us,” Beppo remarked.  “Perhaps Carlo Alberto will beat them this time.  If he does, viva to him!  If they beat him, down goes another Venetian pyramid.  The Countess Alessandra—­” Beppo’s speech failed.