In the forties, Signora Aurora Vertelli was the owner of a place near the Scala, at Milan, called the Casino. The Casino was the meeting-place of the Austrian officers, for at that time the old Lombardian city was garrisoned by Austrians, under the special command of Marshal Radetzky.

Count Joseph Wenzel Radetzky is a celebrated historical personage, and the words of a contemporary: "Radetzky is a great hunter before the Lord; he drives the people before him like the hunter game," describe him sufficiently. If Radetzky was a tyrant, his officers were a torture to Italy, and it often happened that the Bohemian and Croatian officers whipped women and children on the open streets, or else ran a dagger through the body of some peaceful citizen.

Aurora Vertelli, however, enjoyed the protection of the Austrian police! What the services were that she rendered the State is not known; but, nevertheless, the "handsome Aurora," as she was called, was in great favor at police headquarters. The eating at the Casino was celebrated, the wines were second to none, and dice and cards were provided for the "spiritual" amusement of the guests.

An Italian was seldom seen in the Casino, and those that came were generally those who had taken to the Austrian army.

On the night of the 15th to the 16th of March, 1848, lively scenes were being enacted in the Casino, and neither Aurora Vertelli herself nor old Major Bartolomeo Batto, who was one of the regular customers at the place, could restrain the excited guests.

"What is going on at Vienna, Lieutenant Pasky?" asked a young officer. "Have the riots there any importance?"

"No, thank God," replied the lieutenant; "the canaille will soon be brought to their senses."

"H'm, if the emperor would only be strict," said another.

"Ah, bah! the mob has no importance."

"And the cannons generally prove it."

"Comrades," said an elderly officer, approaching the group, "I think the affair is serious."

"How so? What has happened?"

"Well, the emperor has made concessions."

"But that would be a shame."

"They want to repeal the censorship—"

"That's good. The newspapers could then print what they pleased."

"The new press-bill is said to be very liberal."

"A bullet and a rope are the best laws."

"Besides that, the delegates of the German kingdom and the Lombardian-Venetian kingdom are going to be called in—"

A storm of anger rose, and a rough Austrian nobleman, Hermann von Kirchstein, passionately exclaimed:

"Comrades, the emperor can do what he wishes, but we shall do what we wish, and if the Italians make a move we shall crush them."

As if to add strength to his words, Herr von Kirchstein crushed the wineglass he held in his hand, amid the applause of his comrades.

"Bravo!" they cried.

Count Hermann looked proudly about and said:

"Only as late as yesterday I had an opportunity to show the Milanese who is master here."

"Tell us, comrade; tell us all about it," came from all sides.

"Well, last evening, about six o'clock, I was going across the Piazza Fontana, when two confounded Italians—a lady about forty years of age, dressed in deep mourning, and a young sixteen-year-old boy—approached me. They took one side of the pavement and did not stir to let me pass. I was walking along smoking a cigar, and did not look up; the lady did not move, and you can understand—"

The count made a gesture signifying that the lady had lost her balance, and, amid the coarse laughter of his comrades, he continued:

"I went ahead, but the young booby ran after me, cursed me, and tore my cigar out of my mouth. I drew my sword, but the woman clutched my arm and cried: 'You killed the father on the 3d of January, on the Corsa dei Servi—spare the son.'

"With my sword," continued Count Hermann, "I struck the woman over the hands until she let go of my arm, and then I broke the young fellow's skull. The people crowded around, and the police arrived, to whom I told the affair."

"Did the dastardly wretch lie dead on the ground?" asked a young officer.

"No, the police took him away; but after the explanations I gave, I think he must be tried at once; in urgent cases a criminal can be hanged inside of twenty-four hours."

"Antonio Balbini was strangled this morning, and nailed to the wall of the prison," said a deep voice, suddenly.

Every one turned toward the speaker, who continued in a calm voice:

"As I tell you, Count Hermann—nailed to the wall. Ah, we have splendid methods here to humiliate the mob. About eight days ago two traitors were fried in hot oil, and if they are to be buried alive a la proviguere—"

"What is that?" asked a captain, sipping sorbet.

"What? You don't know what that is?" said the first speaker, in hard metallic tones. "One would think you had just come from another world."

The speaker was an Italian, about thirty years of age, of extraordinary beauty. Deep black, sparkling eyes lighted up the finely-chiselled features, and perfect white teeth looked from under the fresh rosy lips and raven black mustache.

The Marquis Aslitta was since two months in Milan, and, as was said, had formerly lived at Naples. He carefully refrained from meeting his countrymen, and appeared to be a faithful servant of foreign tyrants.

While he spoke the officers appeared to feel uncomfortable, and if they laughed, it sounded forced and unnatural.

"To come back to the proviguere," said Aslitta, laughing loudly. "The prisoners are chained, their legs are broken, and they are hurled head foremost into a pit about four feet deep. Then the pit is filled with dirt, leaving the legs exposed up to the knees. It recalls little trees and looks comical."

Aslitta laughed again; but, singular thing, the laugh sounded like long-drawn sobs.

Count Hermann felt his hair stand on end.

"Let us play cards," he proposed; but before his comrades could say anything, a thunderous noise came from the direction of the Scala, mingled with loud cries.

"Long live La Luciola! Long live Italy!"

The officers hurried out. As soon as the hall was cleared, Aslitta strode toward Major Bartolomeo, and whispered in his ear:

"To-night in the little house on the Porta Tessina."