"Is Mr. Mazzini living here, please? I hail from the Kingdom of Sardinia, and I’ve come to visit today!"

Faced with Cavour’s friendly inquiry, the old woman’s face displayed a look of bewilderment.

After pondering carefully for a long time, the old woman respectfully replied to Cavour, "Honorable sir, none of my tenants is named Mazzini. I think you may have remembered incorrectly!

Besides, a person who could befriend you likely wouldn’t be residing here!"

The old woman’s answer made Cavour doubt whether his information was indeed mistaken.

Could Mazzini be living elsewhere!

Afterward, Cavour also carefully recalled the scene of his secret meeting with Garibaldi in London.

At that time, Garibaldi assuredly told him Mazzini’s residence in London.

Considering Garibaldi’s character, he probably had no reason to deceive him on this matter!

After all, whether it was Cavour or Mazzini, both were fighting for Italy’s unification.

However, the two had certain differences regarding unification.

Next, Cavour suspected whether Mazzini had rented the property without using his real identity.

As a Republican like him, he would inherently be monitored by the London authorities.

To escape London’s surveillance, renting under an alias would be essential.

Understanding all this, Cavour immediately asked the old woman if any of her tenants spoke with an accent similar to his.

With that, Cavour demonstrated to the old woman what was known as Italian-flavored English.

The old woman didn’t answer Cavour immediately; her eyes began to appear wary, and her tone became noticeably hostile, "Honorable sir, this is London, not your country!

If you don’t leave immediately, I’ll call the police!"

Looking at the old woman who regarded him as if he were a flood or beast, Cavour realized she likely saw him as a secret police from another country lurking in London.

In such situations, explanations were futile, and Cavour reached for his pocket.

Seeing Cavour’s actions, the old woman instinctively stepped back and warned, "What are you doing!

Believe it or not, I can call the police right now!"

Under the old woman’s suspicious gaze, Cavour took out a 50 British Pounds banknote (or rather, it’s a 50 British Pounds check) from his pocket and quickly handed it to the old woman.

The old woman scrutinized the 50-pound note in her hand and, upon confirming it wasn’t counterfeit, her gaze immediately shifted from wary to amiable, and a flattering smile appeared at her mouth.

In 19th-century Britain, a single woman could live well on just 60 pounds a year.

The 50-pound bill was equivalent to nearly a year’s rent for two people, which was a tidy extra income for the old woman!

"Sir, few people are as generous as you!" the old woman said with particularly respectful tone.

From the casual manner in which Cavour handed her the 50 pounds, she figured the portly man before her was not someone she could afford to offend.

Even if she decided to call the police, they likely wouldn’t accept the case.

Worse, they might detain her to satisfy the gentleman’s request.

After all, in this kingdom forged of wealth, those with money held the greatest power.

Everyone in the slums knew fairness and law never sided with the poor.

"Dear lady, may I inquire if you have a tenant whose speech resembles mine?" Cavour once again used Italian-flavored English to ask the old woman.

After thinking for a moment, the old woman nodded and replied, "Sir, I do indeed have a tenant whose intonation is similar to yours!"

"Could I trouble you to take me to see him?" Cavour subsequently responded to the old woman.

"Sir, I would venture to ask, what is your relationship with him!"

The old woman wished to clarify the identity of the man in front of her, but to avoid making Cavour feel uncomfortable, she added, "If it is inconvenient to explain, you need not speak.

I just hope that when you apprehend the gentleman, he leaves the apartment first. I don’t want my other tenants to be left with a bad impression!

That would harm my business!"

"Rest assured, madam!" Cavour assured the old woman, "I am not a secret police specifically here to arrest him. On the contrary, we’re good friends who’ve never met!"

"Good friends who’ve never met?" The old woman looked at Cavour with an uncomprehending gaze.

"Of course!" Cavour declared confidently to the elderly woman, "We share a common ideal, and we strive hard for this common ideal."

"Fine! You gentlemen always like to say things that an old woman like me can’t understand!" The elderly woman sighed slightly, understanding that the person before her was not someone sent to capture the tenant. "Please follow me!"

After speaking, the elderly woman turned and went into the apartment, and Cavour followed her inside.

Then, the elderly woman informed Cavour that the guest with the same accent as him was residing in a room at the end of the hallway on the fourth floor (also the top floor) of the apartment.

Led by the elderly woman, Cavour ascended the wooden stairs.

Accompanied by the creaking sound of leather shoes on the nearly rotting, damp wooden boards, the elderly woman rambled to Cavour, "Sigh! Your friend is truly a reclusive individual. Apart from the usual meal times, I’ve never seen him leave his room.

Several times, I’ve knocked to ask if he needed the room cleaned, but he refused!

If he didn’t come out at fixed times each day to eat, I would have suspected he might have died in the room!"

Soon, Cavour and the elderly woman reached the fourth floor, and the two of them approached the room door, one after the other.

The elderly woman gently knocked on the door, and after a while, a weary voice came from inside the room, "Who is it?"

"Sir, I’m your landlord!" the elderly woman replied to the tenant inside the room.

"I’ve told you already, I don’t need cleaning!" the voice from inside was slightly impatient.

The elderly woman’s face also briefly showed a flash of annoyance. Honestly, she didn’t want much interaction with this tenant either.

If this apartment weren’t difficult to rent, she would have kicked him out long ago.

"Sir, there’s a gentleman here who wishes to meet you. Would you be willing to meet him?" the elderly woman asked again.

A deathly silence filled the room, and after a while, the voice resumed, "I have no friends in London; please send him away!"

At this moment, Cavour spoke up to the person inside, "Sir, I obtained your address from Garibaldi!

Please, in consideration of my efforts, grant me a meeting. Regardless of the final outcome, I’ll be satisfied!"

A moment later, the door opened, and a man with a bushy beard, a smooth forehead, pointed ears, resembling an Elf, appeared before Cavour and the elderly woman.

He was the spiritual leader of the Charcoal Party, a fugitive of the Austrian Empire — Giuseppe Mazzini.

Sensing the situation, the elderly woman tactfully left, leaving only Giuseppe Mazzini and Cavour.

Giuseppe Mazzini glared at Cavour with undisguised disgust.

In his eyes, the Austrian Empire, which obstructed the unification of Italy, was despicable, but the feudal kingdom accomplice Cavour was no better.

Mazzini truly couldn’t understand why Garibaldi would entangle himself with such a person!

"Mr. Mazzini, shouldn’t you invite me into your revolutionary sanctuary for a sit?" Cavour spoke in a light tone to Mazzini, attempting to foster a relatively relaxed atmosphere.

"Come in," Mazzini responded indifferently.

Entering the room, Cavour found Mazzini’s quarters excessively simple, furnished only with a desk, a few chairs, and a camp bed.

"Sit down!"

Mazzini invited Cavour to sit on a chair, and Cavour obliged.

Immediately, Mazzini questioned Cavour, "Mr. Cavour, I wonder what business brings you to me!"

"Mr. Mazzini, your living conditions have truly opened my eyes!" Cavour seemingly avoided immediately answering Mazzini’s inquiry, instead irrelevantly commenting, "Only such an environment can produce great thinkers and practitioners like you!"

Faced with Cavour’s compliment, Mazzini felt no joy, instead growing more wary.

"Mr. Cavour, if you aren’t willing to state your purpose clearly, then I can only ask you to leave!" Mazzini issued a final ultimatum to Cavour.

"Fine!" Cavour understood Mazzini’s stance, shrugged and said to Mazzini, "Mr. Mazzini, I’d like to implore you to launch an uprising against Austria in Lombardy and Venice!"

Upon hearing Cavour’s request, Mazzini’s initial reaction was that the Kingdom of Sardinia was up to something.

"What are you trying to do?" Mazzini questioned Cavour cautiously.

"We share the same idea as you; we want to unify the Italian Peninsula!" Cavour candidly said to Mazzini.

"In your quest to unify the Italian Peninsula, you plan to sacrifice our comrades?" Mazzini asked Cavour with a furious laugh.

Cavour was silent for a moment and then responded to Mazzini with deep conviction, "Mr. Mazzini, I can solemnly swear that their sacrifice will be meaningful!

The new nation will not forget their contributions!"

"Hmph! A new nation?" Mazzini snorted coldly again, speaking disdainfully to Cavour, "Mr. Cavour, the new nation you mentioned is a land for people like you, the country’s property owners — for the Savoy Royal Family, not for the oppressed Italian nation and its people!"