Wilfrid pressed his hand. "Have you not been too long underground?"

"That is the conviction I am coming to. But when I go out to breathe the
air of heaven, I go to my fate. Should I hesitate? We Italians of this
period are children of thunder and live the life of a flash. The worms
may creep on: the men must die. Out of us springs a better world.
Romara, Ammiani, Mercadesco, Montesini, Rufo, Cardi, whether they see it
or not, will sweep forward to it. To some of them, one additional day of
breath is precious. Not so for Angelo and me. We are unbeloved. We
have neither mother nor sister, nor betrothed. What is an existence that
can fly to no human arms? I have been too long underground, because,
while I continue to hide, I am as a drawn sword between two lovers."

The previous mention of Ammiani's name, together with the knowledge he
had of Ammiani's relationship to the Guidascarpi, pointed an instant
identification of these lovers to Wilfrid.

He asked feverishly who they were, and looked his best simplicity, as one
who was always interested by stories of lovers.

The voice of Barto Rizzo, singing "Vittoria!" stopped Rinaldo's reply:
but Wilfrid read it in his smile at that word. He was too weak to
restrain his anguish, and flung on the couch and sobbed. Rinaldo
supposed that he was in fear of Barto, and encouraged him to meet the man
confidently. A lusty "Viva l'Italia! Vittoria!" heralded Barto's
entrance. "My boy! my noblest! we have beaten them the cravens! Tell me
now--have I served an apprenticeship to the devil for nothing? We have
struck the cigars out of their mouths and the monopoly-money out of their
pockets. They have surrendered. The Imperial order prohibits soldiers