We approached our window, and saluted three of our friends, whom we
beheld standing at theirs. Two of these were Canova and Rezia, in
the same apartment; the first of whom was condemned to six-years'
hard imprisonment, and the last to three. The third was Doctor
Cesare Armari, who had been my neighbour some preceding months, in
the prisons of the Piombi. He was not, however, among the
condemned, and soon obtained his liberty.

The power of communicating with one or other of our fellow-
prisoners, at all hours, was a great relief to our feelings. But
when buried in silence and darkness, I was unable to compose myself
to rest; I felt my head burn, and my heart bleed, as my thoughts
reverted to home. Would my aged parents be enabled to bear up
against so heavy a misfortune? would they find a sufficient resource
in their other children? They were equally attached to all, and I
valued myself least of all in that family of love; but will a father
and a mother ever find in the children that remain to them a
compensation for the one of whom they are deprived.

Had I dwelt only upon my relatives and a few other dear friends,
much as I regretted them, my thoughts would have been less bitter
than they were. But I thought of the insulting smile of that judge,
of the trial, the cause of the respective sentences, political
passions and enmities, and the fate of so many of my friends . . .
It was then I could no longer think with patience or indulgence of
any of my persecutors. God had subjected me to a severe trial, and
it was my duty to have borne it with courage. Alas! I was neither
able nor willing. The pride and luxury of hatred pleased me better
than the noble spirit of forgiveness; and I passed a night of horror
after receiving sentence.