[Sidenote: FELICIE DE FAUVEAU] What was to be done to gain a livelihood, for the de Fauveaus were too proud to accept pecuniary aid from people whose political sentiments they did not share? Félicie was energetic. She became a sculptress, she worked in marble, in alabaster, and in silver, in many branches, brooches, clasps, and wings, which would have done no discredit to Benvenuto Cellini. All her tastes, all her talent turned to the expounding of the genius of the Middle Ages, and all her works breathed the spirit of mediæval art. One of her chief productions was a group of Francesca di Rimini, chosen at the moment when Paolo falls at her feet, and the fatal book lies on her lap— “Quel giorno più non vi leggemmo avante.” Another very beautiful statuette she executed for the Duchesse de Berri; it represented St Elizabeth, at the moment when, upbraided by her husband for carrying provisions to the poor in time of scarcity, she draws aside the cloth which covers her basket, and lo! a miracle, the contents were turned to flowers. I saw this beautiful little statue in the Duchesse de Berri’s palace at Venice, holding fresh white roses, the emblem at once of the Royal Saint and the badge of the Royal owner. Félicie de Fauveau was an excellent scholar as far as reading went, being well acquainted with our literature, but she never could master the language sufficiently to talk in society, and it was amusing to hear the dialogues between her and my mother, each in her native tongue. Our stay at Florence was not long. We made a preliminary acquaintance with all the treasures of painting and sculpture contained in that beautiful city, and went on our road to Rome, sleeping one night in the Pontine Marshes, when we had for supper a _fricassée_ of frogs such as I had heard of all my life and never beheld before or since. We had had apartments taken for us in the Via della Croce leading out of the Via Babuino, where on our arrival my mother found a letter from her old friend Madame de Bunsen, begging her to come to tea that very evening at the Prussian Legation, situated on the Campidoglio or Capitoline Hill. Accordingly, having divested ourselves of our dusty garments, we proceeded thither in all haste. That was a red-letter day in my calendar, and one that while my life lasts can never be forgotten. Our repast over, Madame de Bunsen said: “It is a most beautiful night, and I think you and your girl would like to take your first impression of Rome from the window of our balcony.”