n for beggars. One or two wore the short round jacket which is
the trade-mark of the Italian waiter, and one, a diamond merchant
from Hatton Garden, carried so much of his own stock in trade in open
evidence about him that he would have been a fortune to a dozen of the
poorer brethren. But whether they were prince or peasant, lean tutor,
fat padrone, coarse stockbroker, or polished noble, they were all at one
in patriotism, and there was not a man there who had not proved himself
up to the hilt, and who was not given, body and soul, to The Cause.

In the darkest corner of the room stood an old grand pianoforte, the top
propped open, and the keyboard exposed as if it had been but recently
employed. A chair with a ragged cushion on top of it was pushed a little
back, and a sheet of music drooped from the stand towards the keys. My
entrance had excited no regard, and I took my place in this dim corner
to look about me. The count had not yet arrived, and, indeed, I was some
five minutes before the appointed hour; but as I stood watching, Brunow
came in and shook hands with at least a score of the men assembled. The
light was anything but clear, and I could not be quite certain of his
aspect; but to me he wore a troubled and harassed look, and I thought I
had never seen him so pale and wan. He talked loudly and excitedly; and
little as I understood the language with which he was so familiar, I
made out enough to tell me that he was exulting in the news that day
had brought us, and was prophesying success for the Italian cause. For
people who did not know him, he had an extraordinary power of exciting
enthusiasm, and before he had been three minutes in the place everybody
was listening to him; and once or twice as he spoke there was a murmur
of applause, now and then a laugh, and once a burst of cheering. Just
as this broke out he caught sight of me standing in the dimness of
the corner by the old piano, and peered at me as if uncertain of my
identity. When he recognized me he turned away and spoke no more, and I
thought it was anger at me which flushed his face at first and then made
it paler than ever. I was sorry for Brunow, and, little as I valued him,
I was grieved that he should nurse his groundless grudge against me; but
there was nothing to be done at present.

Almost as the cheers which had greeted Brunow's last sentence died away
the count came in. He walked straight to the head of the table, and took
his seat there