Turin. The memory of his tragic history--most of all, perhaps, of his
recantation and the "devout ending" to which solitude and persecution
had forced the freest spirit of his day--hovered like a warning on the
horizon of thought and constrained political speculation to hide itself
behind the study of fashionable trifles. Alfieri had lately joined the
association of the Honey-Bees, and the Professor, at his suggestion, had
invited Odo, for whose discretion his friend declared himself ready to
answer. The Honey-Bees were in fact desirous of attracting young men of
rank who felt an interest in scientific or economic problems; for it was
hoped that in this manner the new ideas might imperceptibly permeate the
class whose privileges and traditions presented the chief obstacle to
reform. In France, it was whispered, free-thinkers and political
agitators were the honoured guests of the nobility, who eagerly embraced
their theories and applied them to the remedy of social abuses. Only by
similar means could the ideals of the Piedmontese reformers be realised;
and in those early days of universal illusion none appeared to suspect
the danger of arming inexperienced hands with untried weapons. Utopia
was already in sight; and all the world was setting out for it as for
some heavenly picnic ground.

Of Vivaldi himself, Alfieri spoke with extravagant admiration. His
affable exterior was said to conceal the moral courage of one of
Plutarch's heroes. He was a man after the antique pattern, ready to lay
down fortune, credit and freedom in the defence of his convictions. "An
Agamemnon," Alfieri exclaimed, "who would not hesitate to sacrifice his
daughter to obtain a favourable wind for his enterprise!"

The metaphor was perhaps scarcely to Odo's taste; but at least it gave
him the chance for which he had waited. "And the daughter?" he asked.