companion. Italy, Sicily, Greece, Turkey, Egypt, and the Holy Land were
all visited in the course of three years, after which time we returned
to Italy; and being then twelve years old, I was placed for my education
in the Propaganda at Rome.

For an exile who is ardently attached to his country there is no repose.
Forbidden to return to his beloved France, there was no retreat which
could make my father forget his griefs, and he continued as restless and
as unhappy as ever.

Shortly after that I had been placed in the Propaganda, my father fell
in with an old friend, a friend of his youth, whom he had not met with
for years, once as gay and as happy as he had been, now equally
suffering and equally restless. This friend was the Italian Prince
Seravalle, who also had drank deep of the cup of bitterness. In his
youth, feeling deeply the decadence, both moral and physical, of his
country, he had attempted to strike a blow to restore it to its former
splendour; he headed a conspiracy, expended a large portion of his
wealth in pursuit of his object, was betrayed by his associates, and for
many years was imprisoned by the authorities in the Castle of
San Angelo.

How long his confinement lasted I know not, but it must have been a long
while, as in after-times, when he would occasionally revert to his
former life, all incidents he related were for years "when he was in his
dungeon, or in the courtyard prison of the Capitol," where many of his
ancestors had dictated laws to nations.

At last the Prince was restored to freedom, but captivity had made no
alteration in his feelings or sentiments. His love for his country, and