numbers. . . . .' We may drop this sentence here: under the
conduct of its boyish writer, it was to reach no legitimate end.

Four days of such a discipline had cured the family of Paris; the
same year Fleeming was to write, in answer apparently to a question
of Frank Scott's, 'I could find no national game in France but
revolutions'; and the witticism was justified in their experience.
On the first possible day, they applied for passports, and were
advised to take the road to Geneva. It appears it was scarce safe
to leave Paris for England. Charles Reade, with keen dramatic
gusto, had just smuggled himself out of that city in the bottom of
a cab. English gold had been found on the insurgents, the name of
England was in evil odour; and it was thus - for strategic reasons,
so to speak - that Fleeming found himself on the way to that Italy
where he was to complete his education, and for which he cherished
to the end a special kindness.

It was in Genoa they settled; partly for the sake of the captain,
who might there find naval comrades; partly because of the
Ruffinis, who had been friends of Mrs. Jenkin in their time of
exile and were now considerable men at home; partly, in fine, with
hopes that Fleeming might attend the University; in preparation for
which he was put at once to school. It was the year of Novara;
Mazzini was in Rome; the dry bones of Italy were moving; and for
people of alert and liberal sympathies the time was inspiriting.
What with exiles turned Ministers of State, universities thrown
open to Protestants, Fleeming himself the first Protestant student
in Genoa, and thus, as his mother writes, 'a living instance of the
progress of liberal ideas' - it was little wonder if the
enthusiastic young woman and the clever boy were heart and soul