perhaps, she is to plead for me to the king!"

That set him thinking moodily over the things she had uttered of
Vittoria's strange and sudden devotion to the king.

Rainy dawn and the tongues of the churches ushered in the last day of
street fighting. Ammiani found Romara and Colonel Corte at the head of
strong bodies of volunteers, well-armed, ready to march for the Porta
'rosa. All three went straight to the house where the Provisional
Government sat, and sword in hand denounced Count Medole as a traitor who
sold his country to the king. Corte dragged him to the window to hear
the shouts for the Republic. Medole wrote their names down one by one,
and said, "Shall I leave the date vacant?" They put themselves at the
head of their men, and marched in the ringing of the bells. The bells
were their sacro-military music. Barto Rizzo was off to make a spring at
the Porta Ticinese. Students, peasants, noble youths of the best blood,
old men and young women, stood ranged in the drenching rain, eager to
face death for freedom. At mid-day the bells were answered by cannon and
the blunt snap of musketry volleys; dull, savage responses, as of a
wounded great beast giving short howls and snarls by the interminable
over-roaring of a cataract. Messengers from the gates came running to
the quiet centre of the city, where cool men discoursed and plotted.
Great news, big lies, were shouted:--Carlo Alberto thundered in the
plains; the Austrians were everywhere retiring; the Marshal was a
prisoner; the flag of surrender was on the citadel! These things were
for the ears of thirsty women, diplomatists, and cripples.

Countess Ammiani and Countess d'Isorella sat together throughout the
agitation of the day.