, but his mind has _developed_ into a
swan.'

That wasn't bad of Pen, was it? He gets on with his Latin too. And, Isa,
he has fastened a half-franc to his button-hole, for the sake of the
beloved image, and no power on earth can persuade him out of being so
ridiculous. I was base enough to say that it wouldn't please the Queen
of Spain! And he responded, he 'chose her to know that he _did_ love
Napoleon'!

Isa, I send these two last poems that Dall' Ongaro may be aware of my
sympathy's comprehending more sides than one of Italian experience.

We have taken no apartment yet!!!

* * * * *

_To Miss Browning_

Florence: June 7, 1861 [postmark].

I can't let Robert's disagreeable letter go alone, dearest Sarianna,
though my word will be as heavy as a stone at the bottom of it. I am
deeply sorry you should have had the vain hope of seeing Robert and Pen.
As for me, I know my place; I am only good for a drag chain. But, dear,
don't fancy it has been the fault of my _will_. In fact, I said almost
too much at Rome to Robert, till he fancied I had set my selfwill on
tossing myself up as a halfpenny, and coming down on the wrong side.
Now, in fact, it was not at all (nearly) for Arabel that I wished to go,
only I did really wish and do my best to go. He, on the other hand,
before we left Rome, had made up his mind (helped by a stray physician
of mine, whom he met in the street) that it would be a great risk to
carry me north. He (Robert) always a little exaggerates the difficulties
of travelling, and there's no denying that I have less strength than is
usual to me even at the present time. I touched the line of vexing him,
with my resistance to the decision, but he is so convinced that repose
is necessary for me, and that the lions in the path will be all asleep
by this time next year, that I yielded. Certainly he has a right to
command me away from giving him unnecessary anxieties. What does vex me
is that the dearest nonno should not see his Peni this year, and that
you, dear, should be disappointed, _on my account again_. That's hard on
us all. We came home into a cloud here. I can scarcely command voice or
hand to name _Cavour_.[104] That great soul, which meditated and made
Italy, has gone to the Diviner country. If tears or blood could have
saved him to us, he should have had mine. I feel yet as if I could
scarcely comprehend the greatness of the vacancy. A hundred Garibaldis
for su