this be possible; the foes are too many, too strong, too subtle.  Yet Heaven helps sometimes.  I only grieve I cannot aid him; freely would I give my life to aid him, only bargaining for a quick death.  I don’t like slow torture.  I fear that it is in reserve for him, to survive defeat.  True, he can never be utterly defeated; but to see Italy bleeding, prostrate once more, will be very dreadful for him.

He has sent me tickets, twice, to hear him speak in the Assembly.  It was a fine, commanding voice.  But, when he finished, he looked very exhausted and melancholy.  He looks as if the great battle he had fought had been too much for his strength, and that he was only sustained by the fire of the soul.

All this I write to you, because you said, when I was suffering at leaving Mazzini,—­“You will meet him in heaven.”  This I believe will be, despite all my faults.

[In April, 1849, Margaret was appointed, by the “Roman Commission for the succor of the wounded,” to the charge of the hospital of the Fate-Bene Fratetti; the Princess Belgioioso having charge of the one already opened.  The following is a copy of the original letter from the Princess, which is written in English, announcing the appointment.]

Comitato di Soccorso Pei Feriti,     }
April 30, 1849.                        }

Dear Miss Fuller:—­

You are named Regolatrice of the Hospital of the Fate-Rene Fratelli.  Go there at twelve, if the alarm bell has not rung before.  When you arrive there, you will receive all the women coming for the wounded, and give them your directions, so that you are sure to have a certain number of them night and day.

May God help us. 
CHRISTINE TRIVULZE,
of Belgioioso. 
Miss Fuller, Piazza Barberini, No. 60.

TO R.W.E.

Rome, June 10, 1849.—­I received your letter amid the round of cannonade and musketry.  It was a terrible battle fought here from the first till the last light of day.  I could see all its progress from my balcony.  The Italians fought like lions.  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.