The city itself, climbing a hillside almost at the waters edge, was painted pale pink at sunset, and even the old Vesuvius, from the top of which a thin column of black smoke seemed a little less gloomy than usual. Because of heaven, the sky was a mass of golden and raspberry-colored, and this was reflected in the calm waters of the bay until the whole world turned into a real radiance. The evening could hardly be desired. And yet this is not the city, mountain or sunset that we must make, but the first movement of the conspiracy, which was ultimately destined to shake one of the greatest Empires that the Earth has ever seen.