in person and in privacy.

The mention of Paris I saw somewhat startled and confused her. Meantime,
she came near enough to my carriage for me to say to her in German, in
order that none of the servants, French or Italian, might understand,
that I had a letter to deliver into her own hands, without saying from
whom.

She then desired I would alight, and she soon followed me; and, after
having very graciously ordered me some refreshments, asked me from whom I
had been sent.

I delivered Her Majesty's letter. Before she opened it, she exclaimed,
"'O Dio! tutto e perduto e troppo tardi'! Oh, God! all is lost, it is
too late!" I then gave her the cipher and the key. In a few minutes I
enabled her to decipher the letter. On getting through it, she again
exclaimed, "'E tutto inutile'! it is entirely useless! I am afraid they
are all lost. I am sorry you are so situated as not to allow of your
remaining here to rest from your fatigue. Whenever you come to Parma, I
shall be glad to see you."

She then took out her pocket handkerchief, shed a few tears, and said
that, as circumstances were now so totally changed, to answer the letter
might only commit her, her sister, and myself; but that if affairs took
the turn she wished, no doubt, her sister would write again. She then
mounted her horse, and wished me a good journey; and I took leave, and
set off for Rome.

I must confess that the conduct of the Duchess of Parma appeared to me
rather cold, if not unfeeling. Perhaps she was afraid of showing too
much emotion, and wished to encourage the idea that Princesses ought not
to give way to sensibility, like common mortals.

But how different was the conduct of the Queen of Naples! She kissed the
letter: she bathed it with her tears! Scarcely could she allow herself
time to decipher it. At every sentence she exclaimed, "Oh, my dear, oh,
my adored sister! What will become of her! My brothers are now both no
more! Surely, she will soon be liberated!" Then, turning suddenly to
me, she asked with eagerness, "Do you not think she will? Oh, Marie,
Marie! why did she not fly to Vienna? Why did she not come to me
instead of writing? Tell me, for God's sake, all you know!"

I said I knew nothing further of what had taken place at Paris, having
travelled night and day, except what I had heard from the different
couriers, which I had met and stopped on my route; but I hoped to be
better informed by Sir William H