see whether her
husband was among them. She was able, sometimes, to visit him at his
post, and to talk with him about the beloved child, now completely
beyond their reach, as the city was invested on all sides, and no sure
means of communication open to them. They remained for many days without
any news of the little one, and their first intelligence concerning him
was to the effect that the nurse with whom he had been left would at
once abandon him unless a certain sum of money should be sent in
prepayment of her services. This it seemed at first impossible to do;
but after a while the money was sent, and the evil day adjourned for a
time.

Margaret's letters of the 10th of June speak of a terrible battle
recently fought between the French troops and the defenders of Rome. The
Italians, she says, fought like lions, making a stand for honor and
conscience' sake, with scarcely any prospect of success. The attack of
the enemy was directed with a skill and order which Margaret was
compelled to admire. The loss on both sides was heavy, and the
assailants, for the moment, gained "no inch of ground." But this was
only the beginning of the dread trial. By the 20th of June the
bombardment had become heavy. On the night of the 21st a practicable
breach was made, and the French were within the city. The defence,
however, was valiantly continued until the 30th, when Garibaldi informed
the Assembly that further resistance would be useless. Conditions of
surrender were then asked for and refused. Garibaldi himself was denied
a safe-conduct, and departed with his troops augmented by a number of
soldiers from other regiments. This was on July 2d, after it became
known that the French army would take possession on the morrow.
Margaret followed the departing troops as far as the Place of St. John
Lateran. Never had she seen a sight "so beautiful, so romantic, and so
sad."

The grand piazza had once been the scene of Rienzi's triumph: "The sun
was setting, the crescent moon rising, the flower of the Italian youth
were marshalling in that solemn place. They had all put on the beautiful
dress of the Garibaldi legion,--the tunic of bright red cloth, the Greek
cap, or round hat with puritan plume. Their long hair was blown back
from resolute faces.... I saw the wounded, all that could go, laden upon
their baggage-cars. I saw many youths, born to rich inheritance,
carrying in a handkerchief all their worldly goods. The wife of
Garibaldi f