hose that swayed Mansana. No
doubt Lassalle, with his fertile intellect, his commanding
personality, and his inexhaustible energy, touches a far higher
level of interest. Still, the phase of character is similar in the
two cases, and it struck me at the time as curious, that both Dr.
Brandes and myself should have had our attention simultaneously
directed to it.

BJOeRNSTJERNE BJOeRNSON

CAPTAIN MANSANA

CHAPTER I

I was on my way to Rome, and as I entered the train at Bologna, I
bought some newspapers to read on my journey. An item of news from the
capital, published in one of the Florence journals, immediately
arrested my attention. It carried me back thirteen years, and brought
to mind a former visit I had paid to Rome, and certain friends with
whom I had lived in a little town in the vicinity, at the time when
Rome was still under the Papal rule.

The newspaper stated that the remains of the patriot Mansana had been
exhumed from the Cemetery of the Malefactors in Rome, at the petition
of the inhabitants of his native town, and that in the course of the
next few days, they were to be received by the town council and
escorted by deputations from various patriotic associations in Rome and
the neighbouring cities to A----, Mansana's birthplace. A monument had
been prepared there, and a ceremonial reception awaited the remains:
the deeds of the martyred hero were at length to receive tardy
acknowledgment.

It was in the house of this Mansana that I had lodged thirteen years
before; his wife and his younger brother's wife had been my hostesses.
Of the two brothers themselves, one was at that time in prison in Rome,
the other in exile in Genoa. The newspaper recapitulated the story of
the elder Mansana's career. With all, except the latter portion, I was
already pretty well acquainted, and for that reason I felt a special
desire to accompany the procession, which was to start from the
Barberini Palace in Rome the following Sunday, and finish its journey
at A----.

On the Sunday, at seven o'clock in the morning of a grey October day, I
was at the place of assembly. There was collected a large number of
banners, escorted by the delegates, who had been selected by the
various associations: six men, as a rule, from each. I took up my
position near a banner that bore the legend: "The Fight for the
Fatherland," and amongs