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"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."
CHAPTER XIX.
The jailer at that moment passed under our windows, and ordered us
to be silent.
What can he mean by the unfortunate duke of Normandy? thought I,
musing to myself. Ah! is not that the title said to be assumed by
the son of Louis XVI.? but that unhappy child is indisputably no
more. Then my neighbour must be one of those unlucky adventurers
who have undertaken to bring him to life again. Not a few had
already taken upon themselves to personate this Louis XVII., and
were proved to be impostors; how is my new acquaintance entitled to
greater credit for his pains?
Although I tried to give him the advantage of a doubt, I felt an
insurmountable incredulity upon the subject, which was not
subsequently removed. At the same time, I determined not to mortify
the unhappy man, whatever sort of absurdity he might please to
hazard before my face.
A few minutes afterwards he began again to sing, and we soon renewed
our conversation. In answer to my inquiry, "What is your real
name?" he replied, "I am no other than Louis XVII." And he then
launched into very severe invectives against his uncle, Louis
XVIII., the usurper of his just and natural rights.
"But why," said I, "did you not prefer your claims at the period of
the restoration?"
"I was unable, from extreme illness, to quit the city of Bologna.
The moment I was better I hastened to Paris; I presented myself to
the allied monarchs, but the work was done. The good Prince of
Conde knew, and received me with open arms, but his friendship
availed me not. One evening, passing through a lonely street, I was
suddenly attacked by assassins, and escaped with difficulty. After
wandering through Normandy, I returned into Italy, and stopped some
time at Modena. Thence I wrote to the allied powers, in particular
to the Emperor Alexander, who replied to my letter with expressions
of the greatest kindness. I did not then despair of obtaining
justice, or, at all events, if my rights were to be sacrificed, of
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