Page:The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 19.djvu/694

684 your old clothes? It is time we were off; there are Pietro and his new man with number seventy at the door. What has became of the young one?"

There were several questions here which it was inconvenient to answer, so I hurried to the gondola, and, escaping as I best could from the farewells of Pietro, soon found myself turning my back on Venice, whose light faded into that of common day as the train approached Mestre station.

We passed a weary day,—a day in which I tried to forget my own annoyance in wondering about my fellow-travellers.

"Now don't let your imagination run away with you," said my husband. "You women see such wonderful things when there is nothing to see. If these people are not what they profess to be, you will not help them by looking anxious about them."

This was very true, but my desire to look easy made me so uneasy that I drew a long breath, as if in a free country, when we saw Milan. " And now there is but one thing that I want here," I said, when a change of clothes and a good dinner had brought us back to a normal state, " and that is to find the young Count Giusti, who escaped from Venice a week or two ago."

"What do you know about Count Giusti? I never heard of him."

"And I never saw him; but I want very much to see him now." And out came the story of Antonio and the gray clothes.

"Bless me! what a foolish thing to do. You do not know how much risk you ran. Suppose it had been found out, and I under obligations to the Austrian government," fumed my husband. " Lucky I knew nothing about it: I should have been obliged to stop him. It 's a good thing it is all over now.

Yes, it is all over now, and no harm has come."

"Well, I am glad, after all, that the poor fellow 's got away; but you must never do such a thing again."

"O, I never shall; I shall never see Venice again; and now I know how wrong it was, I shall always ask your advice before I meddle with such things. But you will inquire about Count Giusti and Antonio. I must hear about them; and, perhaps," I added saucily,—"perhaps you can get your gray clothes again."

Count Giusti was found,—an intelligent young Italian, full of life and energy, like one wakened out of a long sleep by a sudden bright ray of hope which made all the future golden for him. He assured me that the medal, with Giulietta's message, should reach Antonio, who was then at Camerlata, bringing in provisions for the volunteers. Moreover, he promised to do his best to send back a comforting message to Giulietta.

Nearly a year has passed and Venice is free. We must be thankful for that But she is freed, not by the valor of her children, not by the arms of the Italians, but by the policy of Napoleon III. Verily the benefits of France are bitter to Italy. I love my humble Italian friends, and it would be pleasant to see them again, but I should shrink from the grief and mortification on their faces when they remembered the hopes they confided to me in the early days of the war.

Through the kindness of Count Giusti and other Venetian friends, I know that Antonio is safe and Giulietta happy; but that is all,—all I shall ever know.

Europe has passed away from me before the realities of home. I take up my life in America just where I left it, and my pleasant days in Venice are like something of which I have read in a book,—her palaces and churches mere pictures, her gondoliers and peasants, soldiers and nobles, Pietro, Lisa, Franz, Count Giusti, the characters which give life to the story.