When they had ended the lad set his teeth, tore in bits the paper
clutched between his fingers, and, lighting a candle, flung out of the
room, stamping his feet like an Italian actor representing an angry
king.

Half an hour later he stole gently back to the dining-room. His father
and mother sat there alone, sad and silent. He asked pardon of his
father, who grumblingly shook hands; then he returned to his room,
followed by his mother.

"Then we shall hear no more of these ideas?" she tenderly suggested,
laying her hands on his shoulders.

He answered her with a kiss.

The next day he crossed the borders of the Papal States.

The discovery of his flight was received with tears, rage, and
invectives. They would never consent to see him again; if he came back,
they would not even rise from their seats to welcome him; they would not
speak to him for a month; they would cut off his allowance; they had a
hundred other plans for his discomfiture. With the mother it was only
talk; but the father meant what he said. He was a good but hard man,
averse to compromises, and violent in his anger; his son knew it and
feared him. It was incomprehensible that the lad should have ventured
upon such a step.

The news of the 20th of September only increased the resentment of his
parents.