"I am afraid it is no joke at all," Lind said, gloomily. "Those Swiss
people are craven. What can you expect from a nation of hotel-waiters?
They cringe before every bully in Europe; you will find that, if
Bismarck insists, the Federal Council will expel Armfeldt from
Switzerland directly. No; the only safe refuge nowadays for the
reformers, the Protestants the pioneers of Europe, is England; and the
English do not know it; they do not think of it. They are so accustomed
to freedom that they believe that is the only possible condition, and
that other nations must necessarily enjoy it. When you talk to them of
tyranny, of political persecution, they laugh. They cannot understand
such a thing existing. They fancy it ceased when Bomba's dungeons were
opened."

"For my part," said Calabressa, lighting a cigarette, and calling for a
small glass of cognac, "I am content with Naples."

"And the protection of pickpockets?"

"My friend," said the other, coolly, "if you refer to the most honorable
the association of the Camorristi, I would advise you not to speak too
loud."

Calabressa rose, having settled his score with the waiter.

"Allons!" said he. "What are you going to do to day?"

"I don't know," said Lind, discontentedly. "May the devil fly away with
this town of Venice! I never come here but it is either freezing or
suffocating."