eance. The following is my
second question:--Do the _Vente_ of Italy promise to obey my orders
without giving any to me?"

"Monsignore, you in this demand perfect submission!"

"Perfect, Signori; I will make my demand more explicit. I demand
obedience, to act by my orders, and never without them; to think as I
do, and to be the body of an association of which I am the soul."

The _Carbonari_ were silent.

"Decide!" said the Count, taking out his watch. "I had but two hours to
devote to you, to settle all, and only a few minutes remain."

The _Carbonari_ consulted together. Their conversation was animated as
possible. The Count looked again at his watch, and all turned towards
him.

"Your excellency," said the one who seemed to be the most important,
"may rely on our faith, conscience, and trust in you. We would, though,
think we exceeded our powers, and implicate the brothers who have
confided in us too deeply, if we were to consent to be passive, as you
wish us and the Italian _Vente_ to become.

"Then there is nothing more to be said, Signori," and Monte-Leone arose.
"Perhaps I have confided too implicitly in my audacity, resolution, and
the power over myself, which never has deserted me. I deceived myself,
perhaps, when too proudly I fancied I could inspire you with confidence
equal to my own. I thought by risking life, fortune, and all, I won the
right to hold the dice myself. But you do not think thus, and I submit.
Faithful to my oaths, and to our principles, I am always ready to keep
and to defend them. Acting, henceforth, alone, I shall do as I please,
and be accountable to myself alone. Now, Signori, adieu! I shall leave
Italy, and perhaps Europe, in search of a country, the institutions of
which recognize the true principles of national happiness. Wherever,
though, I may be, I will be _mute as to your secrets, and devoted to
your principles_. You had just now a chief in Count Monte-Leone. He is
so no more, but is still your brother."

Bowing to them with that noble dignity which he never laid aside, he
bade the man who had accompanied him to take a torch and lead the way.
Monte-Leone descended the mountain at Frepinond, and regained the
carriage that waited for him, in which he proceeded to the Eternal City.
Wounded at what, when he remembered how much he had done, seemed
ingratitude, he said to himself, "Henceforth Monte-Leone commands--he
cannot obey."

About evening, on the night after the _Venta