Here another box was opened, when, to the great vexation of my dear Claudia, her journal was found. Hitherto she had been very patient, but now she could bear it no longer. What! her journal, so carefully locked that nobody had ever been allowed to read it, to be at the mercy of these strange men! Claudia remonstrated loudly. 'They might have anything else they chose,' she said, 'but that she really could not give them.' She did not perceive that the more anxious she appeared about the book, the more important it seemed in their eyes, and the more anxious they, of course, were to retain it. After a long discussion, and many prayers and entreaties on Claudia's part, the books and papers were sealed up before us. They inquired what hotel we were going to, and told us we must call the next day for our books at a certain custom-house office they mentioned. Feeling harassed and persecuted, we proceeded to our hotel, my unhappiness being rendered more acute by our being separated from our _Murray_, without which I felt myself a perfectly helpless being, entirely at the mercy of any one who chose to impose upon me. We obtained apartments at the hotel we intended lodging at, and as it was now late in the day, ordered our dinner, and retired early to rest, very anxious for the morrow, that we might know the fate of our books. Accordingly, the first thing we did the next day was to take a gondola, and proceed to the custom-house that had been mentioned to us. There, however, they knew nothing of our books. So we went to the British Consulate, to inform them of our case, and then returned to the hotel. During this voyage, I had several times observed a paper stuck against the walls, with _Notificazione_ written in large letters on it, with some smaller printing beneath it. With a very uneasy heart, I asked Claudia to read it, and tell me what it meant. She did so, and found that it was informing the world in general, that two noble Italians were condemned, one to death, and the other to the galleys, for political offences. Of course, we were no judges of the rights of the case; but it is impossible not to feel one's heart saddened by the approaching death of a fellow-creature; besides which, my heart trembled for Claudia, and I conjured up to my mind the leaden-roof prisons; those beneath the ducal palace, those under water; the Bridge of Sighs; and that fearful part of the lagoon where no fishing was allowed, lest it should reveal some fearful secret, known only to the dead, and to certain minions of the dread Council. In vain I repeated to myself, that those days were past; in vain was it that Claudia laughed at my fears, and told me it was disgraceful for a British subject to feel them: still my heart felt heavy, and I shall not soon forget the anxiety of that hour.