And with that he dismissed Lebzeltern, who was as much moved as he; for they now shared the same conviction of the utter emptiness of Napoleon’s professions of a desire for reconciliation. And as it proved; the doors of Savona did not open for Pius VII until the next year, 1811—and then only to allow of his deportation to another prison at Fontainebleau, where he was to remain until Napoleon’s downfall. Once only did the Sovereign Pontiff weaken (with none but the purest of good intentions) when, in 1813, he consented, for a moment, to renounce the Temporal Power, in order that he might be allowed to go back to Rome, thence to direct the Church. But in vain, for Napoleon would not let him out of his hands, and Pius VII, perceiving the mistake he had made, announced to all whom it might concern his resumption of the inalienable dominions and Temporal Sovereignty of the Popes. And in 1814 he returned to his rightful throne in the Vatican amid the rejoicing of his subjects. But what must have been his reflections in regard to his oppressor during the five years (the exact duration of Napoleon’s crime against him) that were consumed in the terrific expiation of St. Helena? And his awe and amazement at the stupendous vindication of his trust in the providence of Heaven?—for, as the Italian saying has it, “God does not pay wages day by day, but only on Saturdays—and then He pays in full with interest!” Pius VII’s own revenge on Napoleon took the form of offering safe and honoured homes, and the means to live, to his mother and his entire family after his downfall. Whereby many descendants of the Bonapartes are counted among the Roman nobles at this day. CHAPTER VIII IN SABINA We had chosen Castel Gandolfo for our summer quarters and had spent two or three delightful months in the Villa Brazzà, situated on the lower edge of the town which climbed up the gentle slope behind, and having for ourselves the open view of all the Campagna below us, before. The house did not look very large from the road, but very little of it showed itself to the road at all. When one had passed under the arched _portone_ one found a great rambling residence with a long terraced wing stretching down into the garden, and in the garden itself pavilions, grottos, terraces, all bowered in flowers and so artistically disposed that every one seemed isolated and only approached by long winding walks delightfully shady and green.