It is a truly heroic spirit
that animates them. They make a stand here for honor and their
rights, with little ground for hope that they can resist, now they are
betrayed by France.
Since the 30th April, I go almost daily to the hospitals, and,
though I have suffered,--for I had no idea before, how terrible
gunshot-wounds and wound-fever are,--yet I have taken pleasure, and
great pleasure, in being with the men; there is scarcely one who is
not moved by a noble spirit. Many, especially among the Lombards,
are the flower of the Italian youth. When they begin to get better, I
carry them books and flowers; they read, and we talk.
The palace of the Pope, on the Quirinal, is now used for
convalescents. In those beautiful gardens, I walk with them,--one with
his sling, another with his crutch. The gardener plays off all his
water-works for the defenders of the country, and gathers flowers for
me, their friend.
A day or two since, we sat in the Pope's little pavilion, where he
used to give private audience. The sun was going gloriously down over
Monte Mario, where gleamed the white tents of the French light-horse
among the trees. The cannonade was heard at intervals.
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