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.
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