CHAPTER XVII.
IN THE PIAZZA D'ARMI Carlo and Luciano followed the regiments to the Piazza d'Armi, drawn after them by that irresistible attraction to youths who have as yet had no shroud of grief woven for them--desire to observe the aspect of a brilliant foe.
The Piazza d'Armi was the field of Mars of Milan, and an Austrian review of arms there used to be a tropical pageant.

The place was too narrow for broad manoeuvres, or for much more than to furnish an inspection of all arms to the General, and a display (with its meaning) to the populace.

An unusually large concourse of spectators lined the square, like a black border to a vast bed of flowers, nodding now this way, now that.

Carlo and Luciano passed among the groups, presenting the perfectly smooth faces of young men of fashion, according to the universal aristocratic pattern handed down to querulous mortals from Olympus--the secret of which is to show a triumphant inaction of the heart and the brain, that are rendered positively subservient to elegance of limb.

They knew the chances were in favour of their being arrested at any instant.