A sailor, the first man who came on board before we
disembarked, was immediately pounced upon for news, and he gave it as
indeed nothing less than the destruction, more or less complete, of the
Italian fleet by that of the Austrians. At this astounding intelligence
the Prussian burst into a yell of indignation. 'Fools! blockheads!
miserables! Beaten at sea by an inferior force! Is that the way they
mean to reconquer Venice by dint of arms? If ever they do regain Venetia
it will be through the blood of our Brandenburghers and Pomeranians, and
not their own.' During this tirade a little old Belgian in black, with
the chain of St. Peter at his buttonhole by way of watchguard, capered
off to communicate the grateful news to a group of his ecclesiastical
fellow-travellers, shrieking out in ecstasy:
'Rosses, Messieurs! Ces blagueurs d'Italiens ont ete rosses par mer,
comme ils avaient ete rosses par terre.' Whereupon the reverend
gentlemen congratulated each other with nods, and winks, and smiles,
and sundry fervent squeezes of the hand. The same demonstrations would
doubtless have been made by the Neapolitan passengers had they belonged
to the Bourbonic faction, but they happened to be honest traders with
cases of coral and lava for the Paris market, and therefore they merely
stood silent and aghast at the fatal news, with their eyes and mouths as
wide open as possible.
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