that they be of one wood; especially not when signor bow is from
yonderside the Rhoetian Alps, and donzella Viol is a growth of warm
Lombardy. Witness to it, Angelo and Rinaldo Guidascarpi! bravo! You
boys there--you stand like two Tyrolese salad-spoons! I say that my
girl, my daughter, shall never help to fire blank shot. I sent my
paternal commands to her yesterday evening. Does the wanton disobey her
father and look up to a pair of rocket-headed rascals like you? Apes!
if she sings that song to-night, the ear of Italy will be deaf to her for
ever after. There's no engine to stir to-night; all the locks are on it;
she will send half-a-dozen milkings like you to perdition, and there will
be a circle of black blood about her name in the traditions of the
insurrection--do you hear? Have I cherished her for that purpose? to
have her dedicated to a brawl!'

Agostino fumed up and down the room in a confusion of apparel, savouring
his epithets and imaginative peeps while he stormed, to get a relish out
of something, as beseems the poetic temperament. The youths were
silenced by him; Carlo gladly.

'Troop!' said the old man, affecting to contrast his attire with theirs;
'two graces and a satyr never yet went together, and we'll not frighten
the classic Government of Milan. I go out alone. No, Signor Luciano, I
am not sworn to Count Medole. I see your sneer contain it. Ah! what a
thing is hurry to a mind like mine. It tears up the trees by the roots,
floods the land, darkens utterly my poor quiet universe. I was composing
a pastoral when you came in. Observe what you have done with my "Lovely
Age of Gold!"'

Agostino's transfigurement from lymphatic poet to fiery man of action,
lasted till his breath was short, when the necessity for taking a deep