My Short Stay in Fort St. Andre

My Short Stay in Fort St. Andre–My First Repentance in Love
Affairs I Enjoy the Sweets of Revenge, and Prove a Clever
Alibi–Arrest of Count Bonafede–My Release–Arrival of the
Bishop–Farewell to Venice

The fort, in which the Republic usually kept only a garrison of one
hundred half-pay Sclavonians, happened to contain at that time two
thousand Albanian soldiers, who were called Cimariotes.

The secretary of war, who was generally known under the title of ‘sage a
l’ecriture’, had summoned these men from the East in consequence of some
impending promotion, as he wanted the officers to be on the spot in order
to prove their merits before being rewarded. They all came from the part
of Epirus called Albania, which belongs to the Republic of Venice, and
they had distinguished themselves in the last war against the Turks. It
was for me a new and extraordinary sight to examine some eighteen or
twenty officers, all of an advanced age, yet strong and healthy, shewing
the scars which covered their face and their chest, the last naked and
entirely exposed through military pride. The lieutenant-colonel was
particularly conspicuous by his wounds, for, without exaggeration, he had
lost one-fourth of his head. He had but one eye, but one ear, and no jaw
to speak of. Yet he could eat very well, speak without difficulty, and
was very cheerful. He had with him all his family, composed of two pretty
daughters, who looked all the prettier in their national costume, and of
seven sons, every one of them a soldier. This lieutenant-colonel stood
six feet high, and his figure was magnificent, but his scars so
completely deformed his features that his face was truly horrid to look
at. Yet I found so much attraction in him that I liked him the moment I
saw him, and I would have been much pleased to converse with him if his
breath had not sent forth such a strong smell of garlic. All the
Albanians had their pockets full of it, and they enjoyed a piece of
garlic with as much relish as we do a sugar-plum. After this none can
maintain it to be a poison, though the only medicinal virtue it possesses
is to excite the appetite, because it acts like a tonic upon a weak
stomach.

The lieutenant-colonel could not read, but he was not ashamed of his
ignorance, because not one amongst his men, except the priest and the
surgeon, could boast greater learning. Every man, officer or private, had
his purse full of gold; half of them, at least, were married, and we had
in the fortress a colony of five or six hundred women, with God knows how
many children! I felt greatly interested in them all. Happy idleness! I
often regret thee because thou hast often offered me new sights, and for
the same reason I hate old age which never offers but what I know
already, unless I should take up a gazette, but I cared nothing for them
in my young days.

Alone in my room I made an inventory of my trunk, and having put aside
everything of an ecclesiastical character, I sent for a Jew, and sold the
whole parcel unmercifully. Then I wrote to M. Rosa, enclosing all the
tickets of the articles I had pledged, requesting him to have them sold
without any exception, and to forward me the surplus raised by the sale.
Thanks to that double operation, I was enabled to give my Sclavonian
servant the ten sous allowed to me every day. Another soldier, who had
been a hair-dresser, took care of my hair which I had been compelled to
neglect, in consequence of the rules of the seminary. I spent my time in
walking about the fort and through the barracks, and my two places of
resort were the major’s apartment for some intellectual enjoyment, and
the rooms of the Albanian lieutenant-colonel for a sprinkling of love.
The Albanian feeling certain that his colonel would be appointed
brigadier, solicited the command of the regiment, but he had a rival and
he feared his success. I wrote him a petition, short, but so well
composed that the secretary of war, having enquired the name of the
author, gave the Albanian his colonelcy. On his return to the fort, the
brave fellow, overjoyed at his success, hugged me in his arms, saying
that he owed it all to me; he invited me to a family dinner, in which my
very soul was parched by his garlic, and he presented me with twelve
botargoes and two pounds of excellent Turkish tobacco.

The result of my petition made all the other officers think that they
could not succeed without the assistance of my pen, and I willingly gave
it to everybody; this entailed many quarrels upon me, for I served all
interests, but, finding myself the lucky possessor of some forty sequins,
I was no longer in dread of poverty, and laughed at everything. However,
I met with an accident which made me pass six weeks in a very unpleasant
condition.

On the 2nd of April, the fatal anniversary of my first appearance in this
world, as I was getting up in the morning, I received in my room the
visit of a very handsome Greek woman, who told me that her husband, then
ensign in the regiment, had every right to claim the rank of lieutenant,
and that he would certainly be appointed, if it were not for the
opposition of his captain who was against him, because she had refused
him certain favours which she could bestow only upon her husband. She
handed me some certificates, and begged me to write a petition which she
would present herself to the secretary of war, adding that she could only
offer me her heart in payment. I answered that her heart ought not to go
alone; I acted as I had spoken, and I met with no other resistance than
the objection which a pretty woman is always sure to feign for the sake
of appearance. After that, I told her to come back at noon, and that the
petition would be ready. She was exact to the appointment, and very
kindly rewarded me a second time; and in the evening, under pretence of
some alterations to be made in the petition, she afforded an excellent
opportunity of reaping a third recompense.

But, alas! the path of pleasure is not strewn only with roses! On the
third day, I found out, much to my dismay, that a serpent had been hid
under the flowers. Six weeks of care and of rigid diet re-established my
health.

When I met the handsome Greek again, I was foolish enough to reproach her
for the present she had bestowed upon me, but she baffled me by laughing,
and saying that she had only offered me what she possessed, and that it
was my own fault if I had not been sufficiently careful. The reader
cannot imagine how much this first misfortune grieved me, and what deep
shame I felt. I looked upon myself as a dishonoured man, and while I am
on that subject I may as well relate an incident which will give some
idea of my thoughtlessness.

Madame Vida, the major’s sister-in-law, being alone with me one morning,
confided in me in a moment of unreserved confidence what she had to
suffer from the jealous disposition of her husband, and his cruelty in
having allowed her to sleep alone for the last four years, when she was
in the very flower of her age.

“I trust to God,” she added, “that my husband will not find out that you
have spent an hour alone with me, for I should never hear the end of it.”

Feeling deeply for her grief, and confidence begetting confidence, I was
stupid enough to tell her the sad state to which I had been reduced by
the cruel Greek woman, assuring her that I felt my misery all the more
deeply, because I should have been delighted to console her, and to give
her the opportunity of a revenge for her jealous husband’s coldness. At
this speech, in which my simplicity and good faith could easily be
traced, she rose from her chair, and upbraided me with every insult which
an outraged honest woman might hurl at the head of a bold libertine who
has presumed too far. Astounded, but understanding perfectly well the
nature of my crime, I bowed myself out of her room; but as I was leaving
it she told me in the same angry tone that my visits would not be welcome
for the future, as I was a conceited puppy, unworthy of the society of
good and respectable women. I took care to answer that a respectable
woman would have been rather more reserved than she had been in her
confidences. On reflection I felt pretty sure that, if I had been in good
health, or had said nothing about my mishap, she would have been but too
happy to receive my consolations.

A few days after that incident I had a much greater cause to regret my
acquaintance with the Greek woman. On Ascension Day, as the ceremony of
the Bucentaur was celebrated near the fort, M. Rosa brought Madame Orio
and her two nieces to witness it, and I had the pleasure of treating them
all to a good dinner in my room. I found myself, during the day, alone
with my young friends in one of the casements, and they both loaded me
with the most loving caresses and kisses. I felt that they expected some
substantial proof of my love; but, to conceal the real state, of things,
I pretended to be afraid of being surprised, and they had to be satisfied
with my shallow excuse.

I had informed my mother by letter of all I had suffered from Grimani’s
treatment; she answered that she had written to him on the subject, that
she had no doubt he would immediately set me at liberty, and that an
arrangement had been entered into by which M. Grimani would devote the
money raised by Razetta from the sale of the furniture to the settlement
of a small patrimony on my youngest brother. But in this matter Grimani
did not act honestly, for the patrimony was only settled thirteen years
afterwards, and even then only in a fictitious manner. I shall have an
opportunity later on of mentioning this unfortunate brother, who died
very poor in Rome twenty years ago.

Towards the middle of June the Cimariotes were sent back to the East, and
after their departure the garrison of the fort was reduced to its usual
number. I began to feel weary in this comparative solitude, and I gave
way to terrible fits of passion.

The heat was intense, and so disagreeable to me that I wrote to M.
Grimani, asking for two summer suits of clothes, and telling him where
they would be found, if Razetta had not sold them. A week afterwards I
was in the major’s apartment when I saw the wretch Razetta come in,
accompanied by a man whom he introduced as Petrillo, the celebrated
favourite of the Empress of Russia, just arrived from St. Petersburg. He
ought to have said infamous instead of celebrated, and clown instead of
favourite.

The major invited them to take a seat, and Razetta, receiving a parcel
from Grimani’s gondolier, handed it to me, saying,

“I have brought you your rags; take them.”

I answered:

“Some day I will bring you a ‘rigano’:”

At these words the scoundrel dared to raise his cane, but the indignant
major compelled him to lower his tone by asking him whether he had any
wish to pass the night in the guard-house. Petrillo, who had not yet
opened his lips, told me then that he was sorry not to have found me in
Venice, as I might have shewn him round certain places which must be well
known to me.

“Very likely we should have met your wife in such places,” I answered.

“I am a good judge of faces,” he said, “and I can see that you are a true
gallows-bird.”

I was trembling with rage, and the major, who shared my utter disgust,
told them that he had business to transact, and they took their leave.
The major assured me that on the following day he would go to the war
office to complain of Razetta, and that he would have him punished for
his insolence.

I remained alone, a prey to feelings of the deepest indignation, and to a
most ardent thirst for revenge.

The fortress was entirely surrounded by water, and my windows were not
overlooked by any of the sentinels. A boat coming under my windows could
therefore easily take me to Venice during the night and bring me back to
the fortress before day-break. All that was necessary was to find a
boatman who, for a certain amount, would risk the galleys in case of
discovery. Amongst several who brought provisions to the fort, I chose a
boatman whose countenance pleased me, and I offered him one sequin; he
promised to let me know his decision on the following day. He was true to
his time, and declared himself ready to take me. He informed me that,
before deciding to serve me, he had wished to know whether I was kept in
the fort for any great crime, but as the wife of the major had told him
that my imprisonment had been caused by very trifling frolics, I could
rely upon him. We arranged that he should be under my window at the
beginning of the night, and that his boat should be provided with a mast
long enough to enable me to slide along it from the window to the boat.

The appointed hour came, and everything being ready I got safely into the
boat, landed at the Sclavonian quay, ordered the boatman to wait for me,
and wrapped up in a mariner’s cloak I took my way straight to the gate of
Saint-Sauveur, and engaged the waiter of a coffee-room to take me to
Razetta’s house.

Being quite certain that he would not be at home at that time, I rang the
bell, and I heard my sister’s voice telling me that if I wanted to see
him I must call in the morning. Satisfied with this, I went to the foot
of the bridge and sat down, waiting there to see which way he would come,
and a few minutes before midnight I saw him advancing from the square of
Saint-Paul. It was all I wanted to know; I went back to my boat and
returned to the fort without any difficulty. At five o’clock in the
morning everyone in the garrison could see me enjoying my walk on the
platform.

Taking all the time necessary to mature my plans, I made the following
arrangements to secure my revenge with perfect safety, and to prove an
alibi in case I should kill my rascally enemy, as it was my intention to
do. The day preceding the night fixed for my expedition, I walked about
with the son of the Adjutant Zen, who was only twelve years old, but who
amused me much by his shrewdness. The reader will meet him again in the
year 1771. As I was walking with him, I jumped down from one of the
bastions, and feigned to sprain my ankle. Two soldiers carried me to my
room, and the surgeon of the fort, thinking that I was suffering from a
luxation, ordered me to keep to bed, and wrapped up the ankle in towels
saturated with camphorated spirits of wine. Everybody came to see me, and
I requested the soldier who served me to remain and to sleep in my room.
I knew that a glass of brandy was enough to stupefy the man, and to make
him sleep soundly. As soon as I saw him fast asleep, I begged the surgeon
and the chaplain, who had his room over mine, to leave me, and at
half-past ten I lowered myself in the boat.

As soon as I reached Venice, I bought a stout cudgel, and I sat myself
down on a door-step, at the corner of the street near Saint-Paul’s
Square. A narrow canal at the end of the street, was, I thought, the very
place to throw my enemy in. That canal has now disappeared.

At a quarter before twelve I see Razetta, walking along leisurely. I come
out of the street with rapid strides, keeping near the wall to compel him
to make room for me, and I strike a first blow on the head, and a second
on his arm; the third blow sends him tumbling in the canal, howling and
screaming my name. At the same instant a Forlan, or citizen of Forli,
comes out of a house on my left side with a lantern in his hand. A blow
from my cudgel knocks the lantern out of his grasp, and the man,
frightened out of his wits, takes to his heels. I throw away my stick, I
run at full speed through the square and over the bridge, and while
people are hastening towards the spot where the disturbance had taken
place, I jump into the boat, and, thanks to a strong breeze swelling our
sail, I get back to the fortress. Twelve o’clock was striking as I
re-entered my room through the window. I quickly undress myself, and the
moment I am in my bed I wake up the soldier by my loud screams, telling
him to go for the surgeon, as I am dying of the colic.

The chaplain, roused by my screaming, comes down and finds me in
convulsions. In the hope that some diascordium would relieve me, the good
old man runs to his room and brings it, but while he has gone for some
water I hide the medicine. After half an hour of wry faces, I say that I
feel much better, and thanking all my friends, I beg them to retire,
which everyone does, wishing me a quiet sleep.

The next morning I could not get up in consequence of my sprained ankle,
although I had slept very well; the major was kind enough to call upon me
before going to Venice, and he said that very likely my colic had been
caused by the melon I had eaten for my dinner the day before.

The major returned at one o’clock in the afternoon. “I have good news to
give you,” he said to me, with a joyful laugh. “Razetta was soundly
cudgelled last night and thrown into a canal.”

“Has he been killed?”

“No; but I am glad of it for your sake, for his death would make your
position much more serious. You are accused of having done it.”

“I am very glad people think me guilty; it is something of a revenge, but
it will be rather difficult to bring it home to me.”

“Very difficult! All the same, Razetta swears he recognized you, and the
same declaration is made by the Forlan who says that you struck his hand
to make him drop his lantern. Razetta’s nose is broken, three of his
teeth are gone, and his right arm is severely hurt. You have been accused
before the avogador, and M. Grimani has written to the war office to
complain of your release from the fortress without his knowledge. I
arrived at the office just in time. The secretary was reading Grimani’s
letter, and I assured his excellency that it was a false report, for I
left you in bed this morning, suffering from a sprained ankle. I told him
likewise that at twelve o’clock last night you were very near death from
a severe attack of colic.”

“Was it at midnight that Razetta was so well treated?”

“So says the official report. The war secretary wrote at once to M.
Grimani and informed him that you have not left the fort, and that you
are even now detained in it, and that the plaintiff is at liberty, if he
chooses, to send commissaries to ascertain the fact. Therefore, my dear
abbe, you must prepare yourself for an interrogatory.”

“I expect it, and I will answer that I am very sorry to be innocent.”

Three days afterwards, a commissary came to the fort with a clerk of the
court, and the proceedings were soon over. Everybody knew that I had
sprained my ankle; the chaplain, the surgeon, my body-servant, and
several others swore that at midnight I was in bed suffering from colic.
My alibi being thoroughly proved, the avogador sentenced Razetta and the
Forlan to pay all expenses without prejudice to my rights of action.

After this judgment, the major advised me to address to the secretary of
war a petition which he undertook to deliver himself, and to claim my
release from the fort. I gave notice of my proceedings to M. Grimani, and
a week afterwards the major told me that I was free, and that he would
himself take me to the abbe. It was at dinnertime, and in the middle of
some amusing conversation, that he imparted that piece of information.
Not supposing him to be in earnest, and in order to keep up the joke, I
told him very politely that I preferred his house to Venice, and that, to
prove it, I would be happy to remain a week longer, if he would grant me
permission to do so. I was taken at my word, and everybody seemed very
pleased. But when, two hours later, the news was confirmed, and I could
no longer doubt the truth of my release, I repented the week which I had
so foolishly thrown away as a present to the major; yet I had not the
courage to break my word, for everybody, and particularly his wife, had
shown such unaffected pleasure, it would have been contemptible of me to
change my mind. The good woman knew that I owed her every kindness which
I had enjoyed, and she might have thought me ungrateful.

But I met in the fort with a last adventure, which I must not forget to
relate.

On the following day, an officer dressed in the national uniform called
upon the major, accompanied by an elderly man of about sixty years of
age, wearing a sword, and, presenting to the major a dispatch with the
seal of the war office, he waited for an answer, and went away as soon as
he had received one from the governor.

After the officer had taken leave, the major, addressing himself to the
elderly gentleman, to whom he gave the title of count, told him that his
orders were to keep him a prisoner, and that he gave him the whole of the
fort for his prison. The count offered him his sword, but the major nobly
refused to take it, and escorted him to the room he was to occupy. Soon
after, a servant in livery brought a bed and a trunk, and the next
morning the same servant, knocking at my door, told me that his master
begged the honour of my company to breakfast. I accepted the invitation,
and he received me with these words:

“Dear sir, there has been so much talk in Venice about the skill with
which you proved your incredible alibi, that I could not help asking for
the honour of your acquaintance.”

“But, count, the alibi being a true one, there can be no skill required
to prove it. Allow me to say that those who doubt its truth are paying me
a very poor compliment, for–”

“Never mind; do not let us talk any more of that, and forgive me. But as
we happen to be companions in misfortune, I trust you will not refuse me
your friendship. Now for breakfast.”

After our meal, the count, who had heard from me some portion of my
history, thought that my confidence called for a return on his part, and
he began: “I am the Count de Bonafede. In my early days I served under
Prince Eugene, but I gave up the army, and entered on a civil career in
Austria. I had to fly from Austria and take refuge in Bavaria in
consequence of an unfortunate duel. In Munich I made the acquaintance of
a young lady belonging to a noble family; I eloped with her and brought
her to Venice, where we were married. I have now been twenty years in
Venice. I have six children, and everybody knows me. About a week ago I
sent my servant to the postoffice for my letters, but they were refused
him because he had not any money to pay the postage. I went myself, but
the clerk would not deliver me my letters, although I assured him that I
would pay for them the next time. This made me angry, and I called upon
the Baron de Taxis, the postmaster, and complained of the clerk, but he
answered very rudely that the clerk had simply obeyed his orders, and
that my letters would only be delivered on payment of the postage. I felt
very indignant, but as I was in his house I controlled my anger, went
home, and wrote a note to him asking him to give me satisfaction for his
rudeness, telling him that I would never go out without my sword, and
that I would force him to fight whenever and wherever I should meet him.
I never came across him, but yesterday I was accosted by the secretary of
the inquisitors, who told me that I must forget the baron’s rude conduct,
and go under the guidance of an officer whom he pointed out to me, to
imprison myself for a week in this fortress. I shall thus have the
pleasure of spending that time with you.”

I told him that I had been free for the last twenty-four hours, but that
to shew my gratitude for his friendly confidence I would feel honoured if
he would allow me to keep him company. As I had already engaged myself
with the major, this was only a polite falsehood.

In the afternoon I happened to be with him on the tower of the fort, and
pointed out a gondola advancing towards the lower gate; he took his
spy-glass and told me that it was his wife and daughter coming to see
him. We went to meet the ladies, one of whom might once have been worth
the trouble of an elopement; the other, a young person between fourteen
and sixteen, struck me as a beauty of a new style. Her hair was of a
beautiful light auburn, her eyes were blue and very fine, her nose a
Roman, and her pretty mouth, half-open and laughing, exposed a set of
teeth as white as her complexion, although a beautiful rosy tint somewhat
veiled the whiteness of the last. Her figure was so slight that it seemed
out of nature, but her perfectly-formed breast appeared an altar on which
the god of love would have delighted to breathe the sweetest incense.
This splendid chest was, however, not yet well furnished, but in my
imagination I gave her all the embonpoint which might have been desired,
and I was so pleased that I could not take my looks from her. I met her
eyes, and her laughing countenance seemed to say to me: “Only wait for
two years, at the utmost, and all that your imagination is now creating
will then exist in reality.”

She was elegantly dressed in the prevalent fashion, with large hoops, and
like the daughters of the nobility who have not yet attained the age of
puberty, although the young countess was marriageable. I had never dared
to stare so openly at the bosom of a young lady of quality, but I thought
there was no harm in fixing my eyes on a spot where there was nothing yet
but in expectation.

The count, after having exchanged a few words in German with his wife,
presented me in the most flattering manner, and I was received with great
politeness. The major joined us, deeming it his duty to escort the
countess all over the fortress, and I improved the excellent opportunity
thrown in my way by the inferiority of my position; I offered my arm to
the young lady, and the count left us to go to his room.

I was still an adept in the old Venetian fashion of attending upon
ladies, and the young countess thought me rather awkward, though I
believed myself very fashionable when I placed my hand under her arm, but
she drew it back in high merriment. Her mother turned round to enquire
what she was laughing at, and I was terribly confused when I heard her
answer that I had tickled her.

“This is the way to offer your arm to a lady,” she said, and she passed
her hand through my arm, which I rounded in the most clumsy manner,
feeling it a very difficult task to resume a dignified countenance.
Thinking me a novice of the most innocent species, she very likely
determined to make sport of me. She began by remarking that by rounding
my arm as I had done I placed it too far from her waist, and that I was
consequently out of drawing. I told her I did not know how to draw, and
inquired whether it was one of her accomplishments.

“I am learning,” she answered, “and when you call upon us I will shew you
Adam and Eve, after the Chevalier Liberi; I have made a copy which has
been found very fine by some professors, although they did not know it
was my work.”

“Why did you not tell them?”

“Because those two figures are too naked.”

“I am not curious to see your Adam, but I will look at your Eve with
pleasure, and keep your secret.”

This answer made her laugh again, and again her mother turned round. I
put on the look of a simpleton, for, seeing the advantage I could derive
from her opinion of me, I had formed my plan at the very moment she tried
to teach me how to offer my arm to a lady.

She was so convinced of my simplicity that she ventured to say that she
considered her Adam by far more beautiful than her Eve, because in her
drawing of the man she had omitted nothing, every muscle being visible,
while there was none conspicuous in Eve. “It is,” she added, “a figure
with nothing in it.”

“Yet it is the one which I shall like best.”

“No; believe me, Adam will please you most.”

This conversation had greatly excited me. I had on a pair of linen
breeches, the weather being very warm…. I was afraid of the major and
the countess, who were a few yards in front of us, turning round …. I
was on thorns. To make matters worse, the young lady stumbled, one of her
shoes slipped off, and presenting me her pretty foot she asked me to put
the shoe right. I knelt on the ground, and, very likely without thinking,
she lifted up her skirt…. she had very wide hoops and no petticoat….
what I saw was enough to strike me dead on the spot…. When I rose, she
asked if anything was the matter with me.

A moment after, coming out of one of the casemates, her head-dress got
slightly out of order, and she begged that I would remedy the accident,
but, having to bend her head down, the state in which I was could no
longer remain a secret for her. In order to avoid greater confusion to
both of us, she enquired who had made my watch ribbon; I told her it was
a present from my sister, and she desired to examine it, but when I
answered her that it was fastened to the fob-pocket, and found that she
disbelieved me, I added that she could see for herself. She put her hand
to it, and a natural but involuntary excitement caused me to be very
indiscreet. She must have felt vexed, for she saw that she had made a
mistake in her estimate of my character; she became more timid, she would
not laugh any more, and we joined her mother and the major who was
shewing her, in a sentry-box, the body of Marshal de Schulenburg which
had been deposited there until the mausoleum erected for him was
completed. As for myself, I felt deeply ashamed. I thought myself the
first man who had alarmed her innocence, and I felt ready to do anything
to atone for the insult.

Such was my delicacy of feeling in those days. I used to credit people
with exalted sentiments, which often existed only in my imagination. I
must confess that time has entirely destroyed that delicacy; yet I do not
believe myself worse than other men, my equals in age and inexperience.

We returned to the count’s apartment, and the day passed off rather
gloomily. Towards evening the ladies went away, but the countess gave me
a pressing invitation to call upon them in Venice.

The young lady, whom I thought I had insulted, had made such a deep
impression upon me that the seven following days seemed very long; yet I
was impatient to see her again only that I might entreat her forgiveness,
and convince her of my repentance.

The following day the count was visited by his son; he was
plain-featured, but a thorough gentleman, and modest withal. Twenty-five
years afterwards I met him in Spain, a cadet in the king’s body-guard. He
had served as a private twenty years before obtaining this poor
promotion. The reader will hear of him in good time; I will only mention
here that when I met him in Spain, he stood me out that I had never known
him; his self-love prompted this very contemptible lie.

Early on the eighth day the count left the fortress, and I took my
departure the same evening, having made an appointment at a coffee-house
in St. Mark’s Square with the major who was to accompany me to M.
Grimani’s house. I took leave of his wife, whose memory will always be
dear to me, and she said, “I thank you for your skill in proving your
alibi, but you have also to thank me for having understood you so well.
My husband never heard anything about it until it was all over.”

As soon as I reached Venice, I went to pay a visit to Madame Orio, where
I was made welcome. I remained to supper, and my two charming sweethearts
who were praying for the death of the bishop, gave me the most delightful
hospitality for the night.

At noon the next day I met the major according to our appointment, and we
called upon the Abbe Grimani. He received me with the air of a guilty man
begging for mercy, and I was astounded at his stupidity when he entreated
me to forgive Razetta and his companion. He told me that the bishop was
expected very soon, and that he had ordered a room to be ready for me,
and that I could take my meals with him. Then he introduced me to M.
Valavero, a man of talent, who had just left the ministry of war, his
term of office having lasted the usual six months. I paid my duty to him,
and we kept up a kind of desultory conversation until the departure of
the major. When he had left us M. Valavero entreated me to confess that I
had been the guilty party in the attack upon Razetta. I candidly told him
that the thrashing had been my handiwork, and I gave him all the
particulars, which amused him immensely. He remarked that, as I had
perpetrated the affair before midnight, the fools had made a mistake in
their accusation; but that, after all, the mistake had not materially
helped me in proving the alibi, because my sprained ankle, which
everybody had supposed a real accident, would of itself have been
sufficient.

But I trust that my kind reader has not forgotten that I had a very heavy
weight upon my conscience, of which I longed to get rid. I had to see the
goddess of my fancy, to obtain my pardon, or die at her feet.

I found the house without difficulty; the count was not at home. The
countess received me very kindly, but her appearance caused me so great a
surprise that I did not know what to say to her. I had fancied that I was
going to visit an angel, that I would find her in a lovely paradise, and
I found myself in a large sitting-room furnished with four rickety chairs
and a dirty old table. There was hardly any light in the room because the
shutters were nearly closed. It might have been a precaution against the
heat, but I judged that it was more probably for the purpose of
concealing the windows, the glass of which was all broken. But this
visible darkness did not prevent me from remarking that the countess was
wrapped up in an old tattered gown, and that her chemise did not shine by
its cleanliness. Seeing that I was ill at ease, she left the room, saying
that she would send her daughter, who, a few minutes afterwards, came in
with an easy and noble appearance, and told me that she had expected me
with great impatience, but that I had surprised her at a time at which
she was not in the habit of receiving any visits.

I did not know what to answer, for she did not seem to me to be the same
person. Her miserable dishabille made her look almost ugly, and I
wondered at the impression she had produced upon me at the fortress. She
saw my surprise, and partly guessed my thoughts, for she put on a look,
not of vexation, but of sorrow which called forth all my pity. If she had
been a philosopher she might have rightly despised me as a man whose
sympathy was enlisted only by her fine dress, her nobility, or her
apparent wealth; but she endeavoured to bring me round by her sincerity.
She felt that if she could call a little sentiment into play, it would
certainly plead in her favour.

“I see that you are astonished, reverend sir, and I know the reason of
your surprise. You expected to see great splendour here, and you find
only misery. The government allows my father but a small salary, and
there are nine of us. As we must attend church on Sundays and holidays in
a style proper to our condition, we are often compelled to go without our
dinner, in order to get out of pledge the clothes which urgent need too
often obliges us to part with, and which we pledge anew on the following
day. If we did not attend mass, the curate would strike our names off the
list of those who share the alms of the Confraternity of the Poor, and
those alms alone keep us afloat.”

What a sad tale! She had guessed rightly. I was touched, but rather with
shame than true emotion. I was not rich myself, and, as I was no longer
in love, I only heaved a deep sigh, and remained as cold as ice.
Nevertheless, her position was painful, and I answered politely, speaking
with kindness and assuring her of my sympathy. “Were I wealthy,” I said,
“I would soon shew you that your tale of woe has not fallen on unfeeling
ears; but I am poor, and, being at the eve of my departure from Venice,
even my friendship would be useless to you.” Then, after some desultory
talk, I expressed a hope that her beauty would yet win happiness for her.
She seemed to consider for a few minutes, and said, “That may happen some
day, provided that the man who feels the power of my charms understands
that they can be bestowed only with my heart, and is willing to render me
the justice I deserve; I am only looking for a lawful marriage, without
dreaming of rank or fortune; I no longer believe in the first, and I know
how to live without the second; for I have been accustomed to poverty,
and even to abject need; but you cannot realize that. Come and see my
drawings.”

“You are very good, mademoiselle.”

Alas! I was not thinking of her drawings, and I could no longer feel
interested in her Eve, but I followed her.

We came to a chamber in which I saw a table, a chair, a small
toilet-glass and a bed with the straw palliasse turned over, very likely
for the purpose of allowing the looker-on to suppose that there were
sheets underneath, but I was particularly disgusted by a certain smell,
the cause of which was recent; I was thunderstruck, and if I had been
still in love, this antidote would have been sufficiently powerful to
cure me instanter. I wished for nothing but to make my escape, never to
return, and I regretted that I could not throw on the table a handful of
ducats, which I should have considered the price of my ransom.

The poor girl shewed me her drawings; they were fine, and I praised
them, without alluding particularly to Eve, and without venturing a joke
upon Adam. I asked her, for the sake of saying something, why she did not
try to render her talent remunerative by learning pastel drawing.

“I wish I could,” she answered, “but the box of chalks alone costs two
sequins.”

“Will you forgive me if I am bold enough to offer you six?”

“Alas! I accept them gratefully, and to be indebted to you for such a
service makes me truly happy.”

Unable to keep back her tears, she turned her head round to conceal them
from me, and I took that opportunity of laying the money on the table,
and out of politeness, wishing to spare her every unnecessary
humiliation, I saluted her lips with a kiss which she was at liberty to
consider a loving one, as I wanted her to ascribe my reserve to the
respect I felt for her. I then left her with a promise to call another
day to see her father. I never kept my promise. The reader will see how I
met her again after ten years.

How many thoughts crowded upon my mind as I left that house! What a
lesson! I compared reality with the imagination, and I had to give the
preference to the last, as reality is always dependent on it. I then
began to forsee a truth which has been clearly proved to me in my after
life, namely, that love is only a feeling of curiosity more or less
intense, grafted upon the inclination placed in us by nature that the
species may be preserved. And truly, woman is like a book, which, good or
bad, must at first please us by the frontispiece. If this is not
interesting, we do not feel any wish to read the book, and our wish is in
direct proportion to the interest we feel. The frontispiece of woman runs
from top to bottom like that of a book, and her feet, which are most
important to every man who shares my taste, offer the same interest as
the edition of the work. If it is true that most amateurs bestow little
or no attention upon the feet of a woman, it is likewise a fact that most
readers care little or nothing whether a book is of the first edition or
the tenth. At all events, women are quite right to take the greatest care
of their face, of their dress, of their general appearance; for it is
only by that part of the frontispiece that they can call forth a wish to
read them in those men who have not been endowed by nature with the
privilege of blindness. And just in the same manner that men, who have
read a great many books, are certain to feel at last a desire for
perusing new works even if they are bad, a man who has known many women,
and all handsome women, feels at last a curiosity for ugly specimens when
he meets with entirely new ones. It is all very well for his eye to
discover the paint which conceals the reality, but his passion has become
a vice, and suggests some argument in favour of the lying frontispiece.
It is possible, at least he thinks so, that the work may prove better
than the title-page, and the reality more acceptable than the paint which
hides it. He then tries to peruse the book, but the leaves have not been
opened; he meets with some resistance, the living book must be read
according to established rules, and the book-worm falls a victim to a
coquetry, the monster which persecutes all those who make a business of
love. As for thee, intelligent man, who hast read the few preceding
lines, let me tell thee that, if they do not assist in opening thy eyes,
thou art lost; I mean that thou art certain of being a victim to the fair
sex to the very last moment of thy life. If my candour does not displease
thee, accept my congratulations. In the evening I called upon Madame
Orio, as I wanted to inform her charming nieces that, being an inmate of
Grimani’s house, I could not sleep out for the first night. I found there
the faithful Rosa, who told me that the affair of the alibi was in every
mouth, and that, as such celebrity was evidently caused by a very decided
belief in the untruth of the alibi itself, I ought to fear a retaliation
of the same sort on the part of Razetta, and to keep on my guard,
particularly at night. I felt all the importance of this advice, and I
took care never to go out in the evening otherwise than in a gondola, or
accompanied by some friends. Madame Manzoni told me that I was acting
wisely, because, although the judges could not do otherwise than acquit
me, everybody knew the real truth of the matter, and Razetta could not
fail to be my deadly foe.

Three or four days afterwards M. Grimani announced the arrival of the
bishop, who had put up at the convent of his order, at Saint-Francois de
Paul. He presented me himself to the prelate as a jewel highly prized by
himself, and as if he had been the only person worthy of descanting upon
its beauty.

I saw a fine monk wearing his pectoral cross. He would have reminded me
of Father Mancia if he had not looked stouter and less reserved. He was
about thirty-four, and had been made a bishop by the grace of God, the
Holy See, and my mother. After pronouncing over me a blessing, which I
received kneeling, and giving me his hand to kiss, he embraced me warmly,
calling me his dear son in the Latin language, in which he continued to
address me. I thought that, being a Calabrian, he might feel ashamed of
his Italian, but he undeceived me by speaking in that language to M.
Grimani. He told me that, as he could not take me with him from Venice, I
should have to proceed to Rome, where Grimani would take care to send me,
and that I would procure his address at Ancona from one of his friends,
called Lazari, a Minim monk, who would likewise supply me with the means
of continuing my journey.

“When we meet in Rome,” he added, “we can go together to Martorano by way
of Naples. Call upon me to-morrow morning, and have your breakfast with
me. I intend to leave the day after.”

As we were on our way back to his house, M. Grimani treated me to a long
lecture on morals, which nearly caused me to burst into loud laughter.
Amongst other things, he informed me that I ought not to study too hard,
because the air in Calabria was very heavy, and I might become
consumptive from too close application to my books.

The next morning at day-break I went to the bishop. After saying his
mass, we took some chocolate, and for three hours he laid me under
examination. I saw clearly that he was not pleased with me, but I was
well enough pleased with him. He seemed to me a worthy man, and as he was
to lead me along the great highway of the Church, I felt attracted
towards him, for, at the time, although I entertained a good opinion of
my personal appearance, I had no confidence whatever in my talents.

After the departure of the good bishop, M. Grimani gave me a letter left
by him, which I was to deliver to Father Lazari, at the Convent of the
Minims, in Ancona. M. Grimani informed me that he would send me to that
city with the ambassador from Venice, who was on the point of sailing. I
had therefore to keep myself in readiness, and, as I was anxious to be
out of his hands, I approved all his arrangements. As soon as I had
notice of the day on which the suite of the ambassador would embark, I
went to pay my last farewell to all my acquaintances. I left my brother
Francois in the school of M. Joli, a celebrated decorative painter. As
the peotta in which I was to sail would not leave before daybreak, I
spent the short night in the arms of the two sisters, who, this time,
entertained no hope of ever seeing me again. On my side I could not
forsee what would happen, for I was abandoning myself to fate, and I
thought it would be useless to think of the future. The night was
therefore spent between joy and sadness, between pleasures and tears. As
I bade them adieu, I returned the key which had opened so often for me
the road to happiness.

This, my first love affair, did not give me any experience of the world,
for our intercourse was always a happy one, and was never disturbed by
any quarrel or stained by any interested motive. We often felt, all three
of us, as if we must raise our souls towards the eternal Providence of
God, to thank Him for having, by His particular protection, kept from us
all the accidents which might have disturbed the sweet peace we were
enjoying.

I left in the hands of Madame Manzoni all my papers, and all the
forbidden books I possessed. The good woman, who was twenty years older
than I, and who, believing in an immutable destiny, took pleasure in
turning the leaves of the great book of fate, told me that she was
certain of restoring to me all I left with her, before the end of the
following year, at the latest. Her prediction caused me both surprise and
pleasure, and feeling deep reverence for her, I thought myself bound to
assist the realization of her foresight. After all, if she predicted the
future, it was not through superstition, or in consequence of some vain
foreboding which reason must condemn, but through her knowledge of the
world, and of the nature of the person she was addressing. She used to
laugh because she never made a mistake.

I embarked from St: Mark’s landing. M. Grimani had given me ten sequins,
which he thought would keep me during my stay in the lazzaretto of Ancona
for the necessary quarantine, after which it was not to be supposed that
I could want any money. I shared Grimani’s certainty on the subject, and
with my natural thoughtlessness I cared nothing about it. Yet I must say
that, unknown to everybody, I had in my purse forty bright sequins, which
powerfully contributed to increase my cheerfulness, and I left Venice
full of joy and without one regret.