Historical fiction; Italy -- History -- Revolution of 1848 -- Fiction; War stories
This etext was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net>
VITTORIA
By Geoerge Meredith
BOOK 8.
XL. THROUGH THE WINTER
XLI. THE INTERVIEW
XLII. THE SHADOW OF CONSPIRACY
XLIII. THE LAST MEETING IN MILAN
XLIV. THE WIFE AND THE HUSBAND
XLV. SHOWS MANY PATHS CONVERGING TO THE END
XLVI. THE LAST
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER XL
THROUGH THE WINTER
Weisspriess and Wilfrid made their way toward Milan together, silently
smoking, after one attempt at conversation, which touched on Vittoria's
marriage; but when they reached Monza the officer slapped his degraded
brother in arms upon the shoulder, and asked him whether he had any
inclination to crave permission to serve in Hungary. For his own part,
Weisspriess said that he should quit Italy at once; he had here to skewer
the poor devils, one or two weekly, or to play the mightily generous; in
short, to do things unsoldierly; and he was desirous of getting away from
the country. General Schoneck was at Monza, and might arrange the matter
for them both. Promotion was to be looked for in Hungary; the
application would please the General; one battle would restore the
lieutenant's star to Wilfrid's collar. Wilfrid, who had been offended
by his companion's previous brooding silence, nodded briefly, and they
stopped at Monza, where they saw General Schoneck in the morning, and
Wilfrid being by extraordinary favour in civilian's dress during his
leave of absence, they were jointly invited to the General's table at
noon, though not to meet any other officer. General Schoneck agreed with
Weisspriess that Hungary would be a better field for Wilfrid; said he
would do his utmost to serve them in the manner they wished, and
dismissed them after the second cigar. They strolled about the city,
glad for reasons of their own to be out of Milan as long as the leave
permitted. At night, when they were passing a palace in one of the dark
streets, a feather, accompanied by a sharp sibilation from above, dropped
on Wilfrid's face. Weisspriess held the feather up, and judged by its
length that it was an eagle's, and therefore belonging to the Hungarian
Hussar regiment stationed in Milan. "The bird's aloft," he remarked.
His voice aroused a noise of feet that was instantly still. He sent a
glance at the doorways, where he thought he discerned men. Fetching a
whistle in with his breath, he unsheathed his sword, and seeing that
Wilfrid had no weapon, he pushed him to a gate of the palace-court that
had just cautiously turned a hinge. Wilfrid found his hand taken by a
woman's hand inside. The gate closed behind him. He was led up to an
apartment where, by the light of a darkly-veiled lamp, he beheld a young
Hungarian officer and a lady clinging to his neck, praying him not to go
forth. Her Italian speech revealed how matters stood in this house. The
officer accosted Wilfrid: "But you are not one of us!" He repeated it to
the lady: "You see, the man is not one of us!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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