NEXT morning I went to my window to look for Melchiorre Gioja; but
conversed no more with the robbers. I replied to their salutation, and
added, that I had been forbidden to hold conversation. The secretary who
had presided at my examinations, told me with an air of mystery, I was
about to receive a visit. After a little further preparation, he
acquainted me that it was my father; and so saying, bade me follow him.
I did so, in a state of great agitation, assuming at the same time an
appearance of perfect calmness in order not to distress my unhappy
parent. Upon first hearing of my arrest, he had been led to suppose it
was for some trifling affair, and that I should soon be set at liberty.
Finding his mistake, however, he had now come to solicit the Austrian
government on my account. Here, too, he deluded himself, for he never
imagined I could have been rash enough to expose myself to the penalty of
the laws, and the cheerful tone in which I now spoke persuaded him that
there was nothing very serious in the business.
The few words that were permitted to pass between us gave me
indescribable pain; the more so from the restraint I had placed upon my
feelings. It was yet more difficult at the moment of parting. In the
existing state of things, as regarded Italy, I felt convinced that
Austria would make some fearful examples, and that I should be condemned
either to death or long protracted imprisonment. It was my object to
conceal this from my father and to flatter his hopes at a moment when I
was inquiring for a mother, brother, and sisters, whom I never expected
to behold more. Though I knew it to be impossible, I even calmly
requested of him that he would come and see me again, while my heart was
wrung with the bitter conflict of my feelings. He took his leave, filled
with the same agreeable delusion, and I painfully retraced my steps back
into my dungeon. I thought that solitude would now be a relief to me;
that to weep would somewhat ease my burdened heart? yet, strange to say,
I could not shed a tear. The extreme wretchedness of feeling this
inability even to shed tears excites, under some of the heaviest
calamities, is the severest trial of all, and I have often experienced
it.
An acute fever, attended by severe pains in my head, followed this
interview. I could not take any nourishment; and I often said, how happy
it would be for me, were it indeed to prove mortal. Foolish and cowardly
wish! heaven refused to hear my prayer, and I now feel grateful that it
did. Though a stern teacher, adversity fortifies the mind, and renders
man what he seems to have been intended for; at least, a good man, a
being capable of struggling with difficulty and danger; presenting an
object not unworthy, even in the eyes of the old Romans, of the
approbation of the gods.