tic roof and
dignified by the name of _serventismo_, no court, no society, could do
otherwise than virtuously resent so great a turpitude as a wife publicly
running away by herself from her husband's house. It became necessary to
win over the sympathies of those in power, to secure their connivance,
or at all events their neutrality; and this task of talking, flattering,
wheedling, imploring, fell to Alfieri, whose sense of self-debasement
appears to have been mitigated only by the knowledge that he was working
for the good of a guiltless and miserable woman, of the woman whom he
loved more than the whole world; by the bitter knowledge that the
success of his efforts, the liberation of his beloved, meant also the
sacrifice of that intercourse which made the happiness of his life.

Alfieri succeeded; the Grand Duke and the Grand Duchess were won over.
The actual flight alone remained to be accomplished.

[2]In the first days of December 1780 a certain Mme. Orlandini, a
half Irish lady connected with the Jacobite Ormonds, was invited to
breakfast at the palace in the Via San Sebastiano. She skilfully led
the conversation into a discussion on needle-work, and suggested that
the Countess of Albany should go and see the last embroidery produced
at the convent of Bianchette, a now long-suppressed establishment in
the adjoining Via del Mandorlo. The Countess of Albany ordered her
carriage for immediately after breakfast, and the two ladies drove off,
accompanied, of course, by Charles Edward, who never permitted his wife
to go out without him. Near the convent-gate they met a Mr. Gahagan, an
Irish Jacobite and the official _cavaliere servente_ of Mme. Orlandini,
who, hearing that they were going to pay a visit to the nuns, offered to
accompany them. Gahagan helped out the Countess and Mme. Orlandini, who
rapidly ran up the flight of steps leading to the convent door; he then
offered his arm to Charles Edward, whose legs were disabled by dropsy.
Leaning on Gahagan's arm, the Pretender was slowly making his way up the
steps when his companion, looking up, suddenly exclaimed that the two
ladies had already entered the convent and that the nuns had stupidly
and rudely shut the door in his and the Count of Albany's face. "They
will soon have to open," answered Charles Edward, and began to knock
violently. Mr. Gahagan doubtless knocked also. But no answer came. At
length the door opened, and there appeared behind a grating no less a