She sees the sunset in the breast of the springing dawn.
Often her son Carlo stood a ghost in her sight.

With this haunting prophetic vision, it was only a mother, who was at the same time a supremely noble woman, that could feel all human to him notwithstanding.
Her heart beat thick and fast when Carlo and Luciano entered the morning-room where she sat, and stopped to salute her in turn.
'Well ?' she said without betraying anxiety or playing at carelessness.
Carlo answered, 'Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die.

I think that's the language of peaceful men.' 'You are to be peaceful men to-morrow, my Carlo ?' 'The thing is in Count Medole's hands,' said Luciano; 'and he is constitutionally of our Agostino's opinion that we are bound to wait till the Gods kick us into action; and, as Agostino says, Medole has raised himself upon our shoulders so as to be the more susceptible to their wishes when they blow a gale.' He informed her of the momentary thwarting of the conspiracy, and won Carlo's gratitude by not speaking of the suspicion which had fallen on Vittoria.
'Medole,' he said, 'has the principal conduct of the business in Milan, as you know, countess.

Our Chief cannot be everywhere at once; so Medole undertakes to decide for him here in old Milan.

He decided yesterday afternoon to put off our holiday for what he calls a week.