If there be, by chance, any more exciting chapters, they are doubtless known to the confessor.
"Ce ne sont pas la mes affaires." You must go far from Rome to find any real nobility.

Here and there in the Mediterranean provinces some fallen family may be met with, living poorly upon the produce of a small estate, and still looked up to with a certain respect by its wealthier neighbours.

The lower orders respect it because it has been something once, and even because it is nothing under the present hated government.

These little provincial aristocrats, ignorant, simple, and proud, are a sort of relic of the Middle Ages left behind in the middle of the nineteenth century.

I only mention them to recall the fact of their existence.
But if you will accompany me over the Apennines, into the glorious cities of the Romagna, I can show you more than one nobleman of great name and ancient lineage, who cultivates at once his lands and his intellect; who knows all that we know; who believes all that we believe, and nothing more; who takes an active interest in the misfortunes of Italy, and who, looking to free and happy Europe, hopes, through the sympathy of nations and the justice of sovereigns, to obtain the deliverance of his country.