But will this fact create any necessity for a Congress? Herein lies the essential part of it. You dare not make the assertion, and I tell you most distinctly that the Congress will never take place. But what will occur instead? Precisely that which Napoleon is now preparing with so many twists and turns—namely, the formation of a Central Italian State, of which his cousin will be the monarch—a State that will be located upon the two seas, and that will cut Italy in halves, putting an end to all communication between the Sardo-Lombardian States and that of the Two Sicilies, and excluding for ever any hope of future aggrandizement. The means for arriving at this end are simple. He will praise the high-minded proposal, but will lament its impracticability. He will recall to mind the preliminaries of Villafranca, and the consent that was given for the restorations, and he will make it appear that those conditions can be modified in the Zurich negotiations (which depend solely upon him for their continuance), but never in the sense of annexation to Piedmont. He will have it whispered in the ears of those in power that in order to elude the ravenous claws of eaglets they will have to confide themselves to the care of the Imperial Eagle. Montanelli and his set (who did not abstain from voting for Piedmont without a reason) will then come forward. They will have a long train of people prepared for the purpose, and the Prince will be trumpeted forth from all corners. They will demand universal suffrage, and Napoleon, son of Jérome, will be hailed King of Etruria.... Now, what am I to do in such a deplorable state of affairs? Exiles in general are not treated with much consideration, particularly when they want to give gratuitous advice. Everyone naturally says, here is a man who was not able to preserve his own country wanting, forsooth, to teach others how to save theirs; and there are certain people going about those provinces (especially some of my compatriots with whom I should not like on any account to be confused.) Altogether (take note of this) I am suspicious of the very persons that I ought to see, and I cannot trust the sincerity of their assurances. Besides Farini, Minghetti, and Ricasoli (the three men upon whom things entirely depend) have been already advised from your place, and have received their instructions from Marliani and Lajatico. My journey would create a heap of absurd rumours without resulting in any advantage, seeing that I shall certainly not succeed in persuading them, if they will not be persuaded, and if, after all, they are already convinced, the trouble would go for nothing. But to what conclusion does all this lead us?