A man who is forbidden to exercise the calling to which he was bred, and whose sole privilege is that of dying of starvation in his native land, is likely rather to regret his exile sometimes.
I was introduced to one of the fifty-nine privileged partakers of the pontifical clemency.

He is an advocate; at least he was until the day when he obtained his pardon.

He related to me the history of the tolerably inoffensive part he had played in 1848; the hopes he had founded on the amnesty; his despair when he found himself excluded from it; some particulars of his life in exile, such, for instance, as his having had recourse to giving lessons in Italian, like the illustrious Manin, and so many others.
"I could have lived happily enough," he said, "but one day the home-sickness laid my heart low; I felt that I must see Italy, or die.

My family took the necessary steps, and it fortunately happened that we knew some one who had interest with a Cardinal.

The police dictated the conditions of my return, and I accepted them without knowing what they were.