from which he could get a glimpse of the smiling valley below, the view extending over garden and lake to the wooded heights of Austerlitz beyond. When he was somewhat better, they brought him his prison clothing and he put it on for the first time. It was hideous, of course; a harlequin dress, jacket and pantaloons of two colours, gray and dark red, arranged in inverse pattern; one arm red, the other gray, one leg gray, the other red, and the colours alternating in the same way on the waistcoat. Coarse woollen stockings, a shirt of rough sailcloth with sharp excrescences in the material that irritated and tore the skin, heavy boots of untanned leather and a white hat completed the outfit. His chains were riveted on his ankles, and the blacksmith protested as he hammered on the anvil that it was an unnecessary job. “The poor creature might well have been spared this formality. He is far too ill to live many days.” It was said in German, a language with which Pellico was familiar, and he answered in the same tongue, “Please God it may be so,” much to the blacksmith’s dismay, who promptly apologised, expressing the kindly hope that release might come in another way than by death. Pellico assured him that he had no wish to live. Nevertheless, although dejected beyond measure, his thoughts did not turn toward suicide, for he firmly believed that he must shortly be carried off by disease of the lungs. But, greatly as he had been tried by the journey, and despite the fever which had followed, he gradually improved in health and recovered, not only so as to complete his imprisonment but to live on to a considerable age after release.