The Eternal City - Page 274/385

"Called in haste, not only to organise our Italian people for the

new crusade, but to compose by a general principle the many groups

of Frenchmen who, under different names, have the same

aspirations--Marxists, Possibilists, Boulangists, Guesdists, and

Central Revolutionists, with their varying propaganda, co-operative,

trade-unionist, anti-semite, national, and I know not what--I had

almost despaired of any union of interests so pitifully subdivided

when the news of Bruno's death came like a trumpet-blast, and the

walls of the social Jericho fell before it. Everybody feels that

the moment of action has arrived, and what I thought would be an

Italian movement is likely to become an international one. A great

outrage on the spirit of Justice breaks down all barriers of race

and nationality.

"God guide us now. What did our Master say? 'The dagger of the

conspirator is never so terrible as when sharpened on the

tombstone of a martyr.' With all the heat of my own blood I

tremble when I think what may be the effect of these tyrannies. Of

course the ruling classes at home will wash their hands of this

affair. When a Minister wants to play Macbeth he has no lack of

grooms to dabble with Duncan's blood. But the people will make no

nice distinctions. I wouldn't give two straws for the life of the

King when this crime has touched the conscience of the people. He

didn't do it? No, he does nothing, but he stands for all.

Anarchists did not invent regicide. It has been used in all ages

by people who think the spirit of Justice violated. And the names

of some who practised it are written on marble monuments in

letters of gold."

Roma began to tremble. Had the Pope been right after all? Was it really

revolution and regicide which Rossi contemplated?

"Dearest, don't think that because I am so moved by all this that

other and dearer things are not with me always. Never a day or an

hour passes but my heart speaks to you as if you could answer. I

have been anxious at not hearing from you for ten days, although I

left my Paris address in London for your letters to be sent on.

Sometimes I think my enemies may be tormenting you, and then I

blame myself for not bringing you with me, in spite of every

disadvantage. Sometimes I think you may be ill, and then I have an

impulse to take the first train and fly back to Rome. I know I

cannot be with you always, but this absence is cruel. Happily it

will soon be over, and we shall see an end of all sadness. Don't

suffer for me. Don't let my cares distress you. Whatever happens,

nothing can divide us, because love has united our hearts for

ever.