markable gentleman when I was last here; who
had never been out of his own country, but was perfectly acquainted with
English literature, and had taught himself to speak English in that
wonderful manner that no one could have known him for a foreigner; I am
very anxious to see him again, but I forget his name.'--He named him,
and his face fell directly. 'Dead?' said I.--'In exile.'--'O dear me!'
said I, 'I had looked forward to seeing him again, more than any one I
was acquainted with in the country!'--'What would you have!' says the
Marchese in a low-voice. 'He was a remarkable man--full of knowledge,
full of spirit, full of generosity. Where should he be but in exile!
Where could he be!' We said not another word about it, but I shall
always remember the short dialogue."

On the other hand there were incidents of the Austrian occupation as to
which Dickens thought the ordinary style of comment unfair; and his
closing remark on their police is well worth preserving. "I am strongly
inclined to think that our countrymen are to blame in the matter of the
Austrian vexations to travellers that have been complained of. Their
manner is so very bad, they are so extraordinarily suspicious, so
determined to be done by everybody, and give so much offence. Now, the
Austrian police are very strict, but they really know how to do
business, and they do it. And if you treat them like gentlemen, they
will always respond. When we first crossed the Austrian frontier, and
were ushered into the police office, I took off my hat. The officer
immediately took off his, and was as polite--still doing his duty,
without any compromise--as it was possible to be. When we came to
Venice, the arrangements were very strict, but were so business-like
that the smallest possible amount of inconvenience consistent with
strictness ensued. Here is the scene. A soldier has come into the
railway carriage (a saloon on the American plan) some miles off, has
touched his hat, and asked for my passport. I have given it. Soldier has
touched his hat again, and retired as from the presence of superior
officer. Alighted from carriage, we pass into a place like a
banking-house, lighted up with gas. Nobody bullies us or drives us
there, but we must go, because the road ends there. Several soldierly
clerks. One very sharp chief. My passport is brought out of an inner
room, certified to be en regle. Very sharp chief takes it, looks at it
(it is rather longer, now, than _Ha