Chapters (73)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Epigraph
- Prologue
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Part Two
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Part Three
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Part Four
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Epilogue
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgments
- Discover More
- Reading Group Guide
- Discussion Questions
- ESSAY FROMDIANA GIOVINAZZO
- Antoinette’s Sister
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- About the Author
- Praise forThe Woman in Red
“While in exile I prayed, nay, implored God that I would see Rome one more time. The cradle of our civilization. The birthplace of everything we are. Everything we hope to be is controlled by a man who dares elevate himself to the level of sainthood. Who calls himself pope.” Gasps rippled through the crowd. “Yes, I said it. The pope is only a man. For how can he call himself the voice of God when he does not want equality for every Italian, regardless of the color of their skin, their gender, or their religion? Pope Pius seeks to stifle us. Every day he passes edicts that restrict the Romans’ freedom. That creates inequality. Join me! Together we will march on Rome and say, ‘No more!’ We are one people united by our devotion to justice! To freedom! To Italy! Together we will tell the world that we will no longer stand for other countries interfering in the business of this peninsula!”
The crowd cheered. Every able-bodied man signed up for José’s war effort. Together, new recruits blended in with our soldiers. As a great mass we marched south, stopping to speak in more cities. Bringing more people with us. Until we found ourselves at the doorstep of Rome, a great horde ready to take back the heart of our country.
Fifty-One
Fifty-One
April 1849
On the morning before we left on our campaign for Rome, José pulled me aside. “I should tell you that it would be a good idea for you to go back to Nizza to be with the children.”
“And I should tell you, you are a fool to think that after all this time I would actually listen to an order like that.”
José snorted. “I know, but I thought I would try anyway. I don’t know how we are going to get you in the ranks.”
“You’re the general; they have to listen to you.”
At this point my husband openly laughed. “Not in this matter they won’t. You are a woman; they won’t accept you.” He kissed me on the forehead. “I have to inspect the munitions. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
I absentmindedly stroked my loose hair as I watched my husband leave. As my fingers slipped through the strands a thought occurred to me. I searched through the supplies for a pair of scissors. Finding one, I took a deep breath and cut.
That afternoon I slipped into the stables while the men loaded provisions for the battle. My hair was cut short and I wore men’s clothing. None of the soldiers looked twice at me. “Boy, can you pick up…” José paused and looked at me, his eyebrows furrowed. “Anita?”
I saluted him. “Private Garibaldi at your service.”
“Your hair!”
“I know.” I beamed. “None of the soldiers even noticed me.”
He led me outside by my elbow. “You didn’t have to do this.”