"Bravo!" and he saluted me with great respect, inquiring if I were a
Frenchman.

"No; an Italian, and my name is Silvio Pellico."

"The author of Francesca da Rimini?" {6}

"The same."

Here he made me a fine compliment, following it with the condolences
usual on such occasions, upon hearing I had been committed to
prison. He then inquired of what part of Italy I was a native.
"Piedmont," was the reply; "I am from Saluzzo." Here I was treated
to another compliment, on the character and genius of the
Piedmontese, in particular, the celebrated men of Saluzzo, at the
head of whom he ranked Bodoni. {7} All this was said in an easy
refined tone, which showed the man of the world, and one who had
received a good education.

"Now, may I be permitted," said I, "to inquire who you are, sir?"

"I heard you singing one of my little songs," was the reply.

"What! the two beautiful stanzas upon the wall are yours!"

"They are, sir."

"You are, therefore,--"

"The unfortunate duke of Normandy."