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they were sent to conduct me to the confines of Piedmont. Was it
likely the storm which hung over me would thus early be dispersed?
should I again enjoy that liberty so dearly prized, be restored to
my beloved parents, and see my brothers and sisters?

I was allowed short time to indulge these flattering hopes. The
moment I had thrown on my clothes, I followed my conductors without
having an opportunity of bidding farewell to my royal neighbour.
Yet I thought I heard him call my name, and regretted it was out of
my power to stop and reply. "Where are we going?" I inquired of the
Count, as we got into a coach, attended by an officer of the guard.
"I cannot inform you till we shall be a mile on the other side the
city of Milan." I was aware the coach was not going in the
direction of the Vercelline gate; and my hopes suddenly vanished. I
was silent; it was a beautiful moonlight night; I beheld the same
well-known paths I had traversed for pleasure so many years before.
The houses, the churches, and every object renewed a thousand
pleasing recollections. I saw the Corsia of Porta Orientale, I saw
the public gardens, where I had so often rambled with Foscolo, {9}
Monti, {10} Lodovico di Breme, {11} Pietro Borsieri, {12} Count
Porro, and his sons, with many other delightful companions,
conversing in all the glow of life and hope. How I felt my
friendship for these noble men revive with double force when I
thought of having parted from them for the last time, disappearing
as they had done, one by one, so rapidly from my view. When we had
gone a little way beyond the gate, I pulled my hat over my eyes, and
indulged these sad retrospections unobserved.

After having gone about a mile, I addressed myself to Count B-. "I
presume we are on the road to Verona." "Yes, further," was the
reply; "we are for Venice, where it is my duty to hand you over to a
special commission there appointed."

We travelled post, stopped nowhere, and on the 20th of February
arrived at my destination. The September of the year preceding,
just one month previous to my arrest, I had been at Venice, and had
met a large and delightful party at dinner, in the Hotel della Luna.
Strangely enough, I was now conducted by the Count and the officer
to the very inn where we had spent that evening in social mirth.

One of the waiters started on seeing me, perceiving that, though my
conductors had assumed the dress of domestics, I was no other than a
prisoner in their hands. I was gratified at this recognition, being
persuaded that the man would mention my arrival there to more than
one.

We dined, and I was then conducted to the palace of the Doge, where
the tribunals are now held. I passed under the well-known porticoes
of the Procuratie, and by the Florian Hotel, where I had enjoyed so
many pleasant evenings the last autumn; but I did not happen to meet

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