we go?" said Luisa, leading the way. "And the name?" the
lawyer asked. They all stopped. "What name?" "The name of the new
Kingdom!" Franco set down his candle at once. "Well done!" said he, "the
name!" as if it had been a point that must be settled before going to
bed. Fresh discussions followed. Piedmont? _Cisalpino?_ Upper Italy?
Italy?

Luisa also was quick to put down her candle, and as the others were not
willing to accept his "Italy," Pedraglio set his down also. But finding
the debate promised to be a long one, he resumed it, and ran away,
repeating: "Italy, Italy, Italy, Italy!" heedless of the "hushes" and
admonitions of the others, who were following on tiptoe. They all
stopped once more at the foot of the stairs that Pedraglio and the
lawyer must ascend to reach their room, and exchanged good-nights. Luisa
entered the neighbouring alcove-room; Franco waited to watch his friends
upstairs. "Look here!" he suddenly exclaimed. He had been going to speak
to them from the foot of the stairs, but finally decided it was better
to go up to them. "And what if we are defeated?" he whispered.

The lawyer simply uttered a contemptuous "Nonsense!" but Pedraglio
turning like a hyena, seized Franco by the throat. They struggled gaily
there on the landing, and then once more said good-night. Pedraglio
rushed upwards, while Franco flung himself downstairs.

His wife was waiting for him, standing in the centre of the room, her
eyes fixed on the door. When she saw him enter she moved gravely towards
him, and folded him in a close embrace. When, after a few moments had
elapsed, he moved as though to draw away, she silently pressed him
closer. Then Franco understood. She was embracing him now as she had
kissed him before, when they had talked of all going to the war. He
pressed her temples between his hands, kissed her again and again on the
hair, saying gently: "Dearest, think how great she will be afterwards,
this Italy!" "Yes, yes!" said she. She raised her face to his, and
offered him her lips. She was not crying, but her eyes were moist. To
feel himself gazed upon like this, to be kissed thus, was indeed worth a
few years of life, for never, never before had her tenderness towards
him contained this humility.

"Then," said she, "we shall no longer live in Valsolda. You will be
obliged to assume the duties of a citizen, will you not?"

"Yes, yes, certainly!"

They began to talk eagerly, both he and she, about what they