Shadow of great britain

Dear Bertany:

Give my memoirs to Alexandre Dumas and ask him to take them to London and pass them on to Sir Arthur Hastings. God bless Italy, these manuscripts must not fall into the hands of the traitor Louis Bonaparte.

——Giuseppe Garibaldi

Rome, Republic or Death!

——Giuseppe Garibaldi

On the eve of the siege of Rome by the Second French Empire Army on April 30, 1849.

At dusk in Paris, street lights gradually lit up, illuminating the streets of this bustling city.

In the carriage, Arthur Hastings and Clara were sitting on soft velvet seats, and the scenery outside the window passed by like a picture.

Today, Clara was wearing a light blue silk dress, a delicate feather hat, and an ivory lace fan.

Her eyes sparkled with curiosity and anticipation, even though every girl would dream of wearing such a gorgeous dress one day, and accompanied by a perfect upper-class gentleman who looked like he had walked out of a classical oil painting.

This gentleman had the noble morals that only existed in the Bible, and he adhered to the spirit of chivalry like the protagonist of a medieval novel. The shining knight's medal symbolizing honor, the elegant and graceful pure black cane, and the sword at his waist showed that he had enough power to protect his lover.

Clara smiled and looked at Arthur. Everything was too perfect, so perfect that even if you knew it was fake, you couldn't help but want to indulge in this fake world and never wake up again.

Arthur was wearing a decent black tuxedo, and the gold watch chain on his chest sparkled under the car lights. His elbows were resting on the car window, and the scenery along the Seine River swept through his slightly red eyes. The corners of his mouth were slightly upturned, looking like he was smiling gently, and also like he was asking the girl next to him: "Madam, do you need any help?"

Clara's hand gently pinched the handle of the fan. All girls want to be princesses, and no one can escape.

Although the performance tonight has not started yet, she has already entered the play first.

"Sir Arthur Hastings?" Her tone was a little stiff, and her shrill voice sounded a little nervous.

Clara thought to herself: "Oh my God! The pseudonym he gave himself is really strange, but it does sound like a British name, and it's a British knight."

Clara continued to explore boldly. Although she knew that a smart guy like Arthur must have memorized his own identity setting long ago, she still wanted to take this opportunity to satisfy her addiction to being a lady in the upper class.

Clara asked softly, "Your experience in London must be very exciting, right?"

"Indeed." Arthur responded with a smile, his eyes revealing memories of the past: "London is a place full of opportunities and challenges. Especially when I worked at Scotland Yard, every day was full of unknowns and surprises."

Clara saw this young man lying without blushing, and she just thought that this guy was really shameless. He was a rogue with a debt of 10,000 francs not long ago, but today he pretended to be a British knight and made it seem natural.

She wanted to see Arthur show his weakness, so she made things difficult for the young man according to the content that was not in the script: "I heard that you participated in suppressing the riots in London last year. That must have been a very dangerous time, right?"

Arthur's eyes turned and met Clara's eyes without hesitation. He knew what the girl was thinking: "That period was indeed full of danger and tension. Riots were everywhere and social order was in jeopardy. But it was also that experience that taught me how to stay calm in chaos and find ways to solve problems."

To the bystanders, this sentence sounded as if Arthur was really answering Clara's superficial question, but Clara knew that this bookish new liar was angry, and he was fighting back to show that he was calm and would not be confused by Clara's little trick.

Clara met those eagle-like sharp eyes and subconsciously wanted to avoid them, but after coming to her senses, she fought back unwillingly.

She thought: "This brat might have some potential in acting. His eyes are exactly like those of the policemen on the streets of Paris, cold and icy, as if someone has chained you up."

Clara covered her mouth with a fan to hide her gaffe: "I really wish I could have the opportunity to experience these exciting events like you. However, as a lady, my life seems to be always confined to social balls and family gatherings."

"Isn't it just bragging?" Clara's eyes narrowed into a crescent, and she thought: "I can do this too. Parisians have been bragging all their lives. "You will master this skill when you come down, no matter if he is a girl or a boy."

"Listen to me, being confined to social dances and family gatherings is also a rare blessing." Arthur straightened the knight's medal on his chest: "It's better than lying in a coffin."

Clara almost laughed out loud when she heard this: "Sir, this is a bit too much."

"Yes, I think so too." Arthur stroked his hair: "But the gunmen didn't listen to me at the time."

As soon as Arthur finished speaking, there was a bang, and the carriage suddenly shook violently.

Then came the French national quintessence greeting from the coachman in front, and a violent noise.

"What's wrong?" Clara stuck her head out of the window: "Car crash?"

Arthur glanced outside and gestured to Clara: "You sit here, gentlemen can solve these problems themselves."

"Remember to bring your gun."

"Why?"

"No one listens to you in London, how do you expect it to matter in Paris?"

Clara pushed Arthur out of the car, threw his holster to him, and slammed the door.

Seeing this, Arthur could only shrug: "What's the big deal? At the worst, I'll go back to lie in the coffin."

"That won't work." Agares, who was lying on the roof of the car, picked up a pebble and hit Arthur on the head: "It's not difficult to find Dickens and Alexandre Dumas again. There are also a lot of prostitutes in Paris. , but I don’t think the French would welcome Wellington’s visit here.”

Arthur held the pebble and just aimed at the red devil, the guy immediately turned into a burst of red smoke and disappeared without a trace.

Seeing this, Arthur had no choice but to make a comment without comment: "You have learned the essence of Fleet Street."

He stepped forward and as soon as he reached the front of the car, he saw the driver arguing fiercely with two men.

"Do you know what it means to drive on the right? The road is so wide, but you don't take the road assigned to you, but you come to take my way. Now that the car has crashed, you still have the audacity to say that it's all thanks to me?"

"You bastard, it's obvious that you were the first to become wise. There are so many people on this street that there are no rules for driving. Isn't it natural for those who come later to give way to those who come first?"

"Damn it, you guys can tell they're from the provinces right away."

"We are Italian!"

"Let alone Italy, you should drive on the right everywhere in Europe."

Arthur stepped forward and asked, "What happened?"

When the groom saw his employer coming, he quickly took off his hat and said, "Sir, please tell me whether all carriages in Europe must keep to the right."

"Well..." Arthur lit the cigarette: "You really asked the wrong person. I'm not European."

"Are you not European?" The groom looked Arthur up and down: "Then where are you from?"

Arthur blew out a smoke ring and straightened his collar and said: "I am a British man."

"Damn it!" the coachman slapped his forehead and said, "I seem to have heard someone say that the carriages you have there do indeed keep to the left."

"Sir Arthur Hastings?"

While Arthur and the groom were discussing the relationship between Europe and Britain, someone suddenly called his name.

Arthur turned around and saw a familiar face among the Italians who had a conflict with the groom.

He is of medium height, well-proportioned, blond, with a Greek nose, forehead and chin. He wears a torn white hat, an old military uniform, and a pair of cracked boots. He looks like a living person walking. Greek sculpture.

It was him, our Mr. Giuseppe Garibaldi.

This gentleman was as enthusiastic as ever. I don’t know whether it was because he was distracted by Elder Carter’s sailing stories, or because he was so innocent and straightforward in nature. He was not as guarded against Arthur as Mazzini was, but instead walked away. He came forward and shook hands with Arthur cheerfully.

While shaking hands, he introduced to his companions in Italian: "Lamorino, this is Sir Arthur Hastings whom I mentioned to you before. He is the best novelist."

The gentleman named Ramorino had a pipe in his mouth and said: "No need for your introduction. When I chatted with Mr. Chopin before, I heard him mention Mr. Arthur Hastings more than once. He always said that he was an upright man and a friend of the Poles.”

Although Arthur did not master Italian, he learned Latin well, so he could still understand a rough idea even by guessing.

Ramorino stepped forward and shook hands with Arthur: "Gerolamo Ramorino, nice to meet you."

Perhaps this name is not as famous as Garibaldi to ordinary people in later generations, but for a British secret agent who lived in 1833, this guy was far more difficult to deal with than Garibaldi.

Why, you ask?

That's because this gentleman, who has not yet reached the age of forty, is not only a wanted criminal in all Italian states, but is also honored to be on the "must kill list" of St. Petersburg.

As an Italian who joined Napoleon's army at the age of 17, Mr. Lamorino followed the Italian Army in the north and south during the Napoleonic Wars, and participated in many important wars such as the Battle of Wagram, the Russian Expedition, and the Battle of Leipzig. When Napoleon was defeated at Waterloo, Lamorino had already become a legionary quartermaster from an ordinary soldier.

After the fall of Napoleon, Lamorino was not idle. In 1821, he participated in the Piedmont Uprising that overthrew the Kingdom of Sardinia and went into exile in France after its failure.

After the Warsaw Uprising last year, he immediately set off for Poland. At first, he served only as a colonel. However, after the victory of Mionjak-Podlarski, Ramolino was immediately entrusted with the important task of serving as the Second Army of Warsaw. Commander, and severely defeated the Russian army in the subsequent Battle of Varka.

With such a resume, it is not difficult to explain why he got together with Chopin.

After all, for the Poles, Ramolino, like Hastings, is an old friend of the Polish people.

Arthur joked: "Maybe I should call you general, after all you are a major general in the Polish Army."

"Major General is of course an honor." Lamorino said: "But I prefer you to call me captain, the imperial artillery captain. This is my rank in the Italian Army."

Arthur smiled and replied: "Captain of the Empire's Artillery, this is indeed a good title. But Captain of the Kingdom of Italy may sound more pleasing to the ear."

Lamorino has been observing Arthur's reaction. He nodded slightly when he heard Arthur's answer: "I think so too. But it is still a bit difficult to do this with our current strength alone."

Although Lamorino just mentioned it casually, Arthur read a different meaning from this sentence.

If Poland produces an Italian general, Italy will naturally produce a Polish general.

It seems very reasonable that the Poles suppressed by Tsarist Russia and the Italians suppressed by Austria come together.

It was as if God wanted to verify Arthur's idea. Not long after the idea came to him, he saw a burly man getting out of the carriage.

"What's wrong? Haven't we reached an agreement yet?"

Garibaldi turned to look at the big man: "Mr. Grafsky, it's okay, we met an old friend. He is both our friend and Mr. Chopin's friend, Sir Arthur Hastings of London. "

Grafsky was startled when he heard the name, then slapped his head and said: "Is it the British knight who helped us publish an article in London? I heard Prince Czartoryski mention him before, Mickiewicz It seems that he also helped publish Mr. Qi’s "Ancestor Sacrifice."

Grafsky walked forward enthusiastically. He originally wanted to give the other party a hug, but when he saw Arthur's formal attire, he stopped his hand just before the hug: "Hello! Joseph Grafsky Ski, the Major Commander of the 4th Light Cavalry Artillery Battalion of the Kingdom of Poland!”

Arthur smiled and took off his hat and returned the greeting: "I have heard Mr. Mickiewicz and Mr. Chopin praise you more than once for your heroic charge in the Battle of Igagne and your outstanding bombardment in the Battle of Ostrolenka."

Arthur's eyes swept across the three of them: "Are you three going to attend Mr. Chopin's concert at the Paris Opera House tonight?"

"Ah... Mr. Chopin's concert is of course not to be missed, but unfortunately we have other arrangements today."

Grafsky explained: "But we can be together another day. Mr. Chopin gave me and Giuseppe two tickets for next Wednesday."

Upon hearing this, Garibaldi turned around and asked, "But is Wednesday enough time? Doesn't the French government require us to all withdraw from France before next Monday?"

Ramolino waved his hand: "It doesn't matter, you and Joseph can stay. He is Polish, and you have only joined not long ago, and your names are not even on the roster. Mazzini, I can help you both. Explanation: You still have some property in Paris that you haven’t disposed of yet.”

"Are you going to explain..."

Garibaldi scratched the side of his face: "He is not a talkative person. He must do what he says, and the plans he has made must be implemented immediately. If he knew that we stayed here to attend the concert, he would definitely be furious."

Ramorino didn't seem to take Mazzini's orders to heart: "He has never been a soldier, nor has he commanded any battle. He thinks about it as it comes. He thinks that fighting a war is just drawing on a blueprint. How can the Austrians be driven out of Italy by shouting slogans? How are the funds transferred, how are the troops recruited, where are the weapons purchased, where do the troops board the ships, where do they land, how many are the enemies, and how much firepower do they have? There are still many things that have not been clarified. In my opinion, based on the current preparations, it will be very good to make progress within half a year. "

Although Arthur didn't know whether Ramorino was simply careless or deliberately talking about these secrets in front of him, since the other party dared to speak, he naturally dared to listen.

Appearing to be timid at this time will make the other person feel that there is something wrong.

"Feel sorry."

Arthur said: "If I understand correctly, are you planning an expedition against a certain country in Italy?"

Grafski said without hesitation: "Actually, I would rather launch an expedition against Poland, but if I do that, it will be the Poles who will be expelled this time instead of Young Italy. In order for the compatriots in distress to feel safe, If I stay in Paris with my heart, Mr. Chopin can continue to play the piano at the Opera House. We can only do the next best thing for the time being."

Unlike Ramorino, Grafsky seemed to truly treat Arthur as one of his own.

After all, compared to the Italians, Arthur really made a contribution in Poland's difficult moments. Besides, even if he doesn't slap the label of 'Polish sympathizer' on his forehead, your Lordships in Whitehall Street already do.

In this case, it is better to go all the way to the dark side. After all, this is also one of the opinions of Bentham's disciples.

What's more important is that there are currently quite a lot of people from this faction in parliament.

Seeing this, Arthur took off his hat and said goodbye to them: "In that case, I wish you success. I have always been your supporter. Whether it is in London, Paris or anywhere else, my position has always been Changeless."

As soon as Arthur finished speaking, the red devil's sinister voice came from his ears: "Is it the same in St. Petersburg?"

"we'll talk about it then."

"Okay, we'll talk about it later." Gravsky said goodbye with a smile on his face: "I will visit Mr. Chopin's house this weekend, we'll talk about it then."

Garibaldi also echoed: "Yes, I will go too. You haven't finished talking about Elder Carter last time, and you must have many more stories about tough guys like this."

Arthur watched the three of them get into the carriage with half of the door broken, and watched them disappear in the crowd. Then he wiped the sweat from his forehead: "I just lied to Louis that Young Italy was in danger, but I didn't expect them to really make a front-page headline for themselves."

"Then how are you going to explain to that kid from the Bonaparte family later?" The Red Devil sneered: "Young Italy is actually a royalist?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows and said: "People have two skins. God can be a royalist, so can't Young Italy be?"