So she once more entered the perilous streets, and murmuring to herself, 'My father! my father!' as if in those simple words lay the hand that was to guide, and the providence that was to preserved her, she began to trace her solitary way in the direction of the Pincian Mount.
It was a spectacle--touching, beautiful, even sublime--to see this young girl, but a few hours freed, by perilous paths and by criminal hands, from scenes which had begun in treachery, only to end in death, now passing, resolute and alone, through the streets of a mighty city, overwhelmed by all that is poignant in human anguish and hideous in human crime.

It was a noble evidence of the strong power over the world and the world's perils, with which the simplest affection may arm the frailest being--to behold her thus pursuing her way, superior to every horror of desolation and death that clogged her path, unconsciously discovering in the softly murmured name of 'father', which still fell at intervals from her lips, the pure purpose that sustained her--the steady heroism that ever held her in her doubtful course.

The storms of heaven poured over her head--the crimes and sufferings of Rome darkened the paths of her pilgrimage; but she passed firmly onward through all, like a ministering spirit, journeying along earthly shores in the bright inviolability of its merciful mission and its holy thoughts--like a ray of light living in the strength of its own beauty, amid the tempest and obscurity of a stranger sphere.
Once more she entered the Campus Martius.

Again she passed the public fountains, still unnaturally devoted to serve as beds for the dying and as sepulchres for the dead; again she trod the dreary highways, where the stronger among the famished populace yet paced hither and thither in ferocious silence and unsocial separation.

No word was addressed, hardly a look was directed to her, as she pursued her solitary course.
She was desolate among the desolate; forsaken among others abandoned like herself.
The robber, when he passed her by, saw that she was worthless for the interests of plunder as the poorest of the dying citizens around him.
The patrician, loitering feebly onward to the shelter of his palace halls, avoided her as a new suppliant among the people for the charity which he had not to bestow, and quickened his pace as she approached him in the street.