violently back; then it
began to come in again, nearer, ever nearer, until, far down below the
surface, underneath the very noses of the three personages, something
yellow flashed, a monstrous shadow! "Oh, the beauty!" said Signora
Peppina under her breath. Rati exclaimed: "_Madone, Madone!_" But
Bianconi spoke never a word, and only pulled and pulled cautiously. It
was a fine, big fellow, short and fat, with a dark back and a yellow
belly, this fish that was coming up from the depths, nearly exhausted
and moving crosswise with evident reluctance.

The three faces did not please the fish, for it suddenly turned tail
upon them, and once more dived furiously towards the depths. At last,
however, completely exhausted, it followed the line, and appeared at the
foot of the wall, its gilded belly uppermost. Signora Peppina, almost
upside down on the parapet, plunged her rod as far as it would go,
seeking in vain to bag the unhappy fish. "By the head!" shouted her
husband. "By the tail!" piped Rati. At the noise, at sight of that
terrible net, the fish struggled and dived. Peppina worked harder than
ever, but could find neither head nor tail. Bianconi pulled and the
tench rose to the surface once more, coiled itself up, and with a mighty
jerk, snapped the line, and shot off amid the foam. "_Madone!_"
exclaimed Rati, while Peppina continued to hunt about in the water with
her rod. "Where is that fish? Where is that fish?" Bianconi, who had sat
as one petrified, still grasping the line, now faced about in a rage; he
kicked Rati, caught his wife by the shoulder, and shook her like a bag
of nuts, loading her with reproaches. "Has it made off, _Scior
Recitor_?" asked the customs-guard mellifluously. Custant turned his
tall hat just a little, glanced towards the scene of the disaster, and
then, returning to the contemplation of his own placid float, mumbled in
an indulgent tone: "_Minga pratich!_ Not skillful!"

Meanwhile the tench had returned to its native grass-grown depths,
melancholy but free, like Piedmont after Novara. It is, however,
doubtful if the poor Engineer-in-Chief will be equally fortunate.

FOOTNOTES:

[I] A short, pointed beard, called _la mosca_, and worn by patriots in
those days. [_Translator's note._]

[J] Box, red; leaves, green; flower, white. The Italian colours, so the
worthy Receiver scents sedition. [_Translator's note._]

[K] Kufstein was one of the Austrian fortresses where "politicals" were
i