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Updated: June 5, 2025
Don Alberto had, of course, ascertained without difficulty that Tommaso was only a servant who represented the two famous Bravi, and in the hands of such men young Altieri felt that the enterprise could not fail.
When he was gone, the Bravi did not at once talk over the unexpected news, for Grattacacio was with them, coming and going, bringing hot water, shaving them as well as any barber, unpacking their linen and clothes, and waiting on them with such a constant prescience of their needs as only a highly trained body-servant can possess.
So ends the story of the two bravi. We have reason to believe, from some contemporary documents which Cantù has brought to light, that Bibboni exaggerated his own part in the affair. Luca Martelli, writing to Varchi, says that it was Bebo who clove Lorenzo's skull with a cutlass.
Then let the prince await me. Do you hear, Victorine?" "Yes, dear mistress, I hear, and will report your words faithfully." "Tell him that Venice is alive with spies and bravi, and oh! bid him be careful how he exposes himself to danger. Now go! and may Heaven bless you for your fidelity to a wretched and betrayed woman!" Victorine withdrew.
There were oranges, ripe plums, and very dark red cherries in handsome profusion, and the serving-girl, who cherished a secret but hopeless admiration for Gambardella, had brought a pretty bunch of violets in a coarse Roman tumbler. Both the Bravi were of opinion that a little fruit taken in the morning was cooling to the blood in spring.
But a little later a Battalion came along the road the other way, going up to be sacrificed on Nad Logem. They halted to rest by the roadside, full of gaiety and courage. They cheered our men on No. 2 gun, who were pumping out shells as fast as they could. "Bravi inglesi!" cried the Italians, and some of our men replied, "Good luck, Johnny!" Unknown Italians were always "Johnny."
For those were the only conditions under which Bravi could have exercised their profession as they did throughout Italy in the seventeenth century. Trombin detained the innkeeper a moment when he was about to leave the two to their toilet, after the day's ride. 'Some acquaintances of ours must have spent a night here last week, Trombin began. 'Do you remember them?
Then he uttered a low exclamation of surprise and looked round. Pina was already bringing in the lamp, and he realised at once that she had spoken the truth. Ortensia had not come home; but even now no doubt of the Bravi crossed his mind, and he was anxious only because Trombin had said that she was feeling ill.
Under those vast resounding vaults swarmed a brood of mediaeval bravi like the wasps that hang their pear-shaped combs along the cloisters of Pavia. There the ghost of the dead empire still sat throned and sceptred. The rites of Christianity were carried on beneath Agrippa's dome, in Diocletian's baths, in the Basilicas.
No wonder that the enthusiasm of the populace was wild enough to bring the frankest delight to his handsome sun-bronzed face as they rushed upon him in a frenzy of appreciation and bore him aloft on their shoulders around the Piazza San Nicolò, almost dizzied with their haste and the smallness of the circle opened to them in the little square by the throng who pressed eagerly around him to grasp his hand to wave their banners, to shout themselves hoarse for the Nicolotti, for San Nicolò and San Raffaele, for Piero, gastaldo grande, for Venezia, for San Marco, with "Bravi," "Felicitazioni," and every possible childish demonstration of delight.
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