hands of the ‘arsenalotti’ who are always going their rounds there.  You have only the canal side left, and where is your gondola to take you off?  Not having any such thing, you will be obliged to throw yourself in and escape by swimming towards St. Appollonia, which you will reach in a wretched condition, not knowing where to turn to next.  You must remember that the leads are slippery, and that if you were to fall into the canal, considering the height of the fall and the shallowness of the water, you would most certainly be killed if you could swim like sharks.  You would be crushed to death, for three or four feet of water are not sufficient to counteract the effect of a fall from such a height.  In short, the best fate you can expect is to find yourselves on the ground with broken arms and legs.”

The effect of this discourse—­a very unseasonable one, under the circumstances—­was to make my blood boil, but I listened with a patience wholly foreign to my nature.  The rough reproaches of the monk enraged me, and inclined me to answer him in his own way; but I felt that my position was a difficult one, and that unless I was careful I might ruin all, for I had to do with a coward quite capable of saying that he was not going to risk his life, and by myself I could not hope to succeed.  I constrained myself, therefore, and as politely as I could I told them that I was sure of success, though I could not as yet communicate the details of my plan.  “I shall profit by your wise counsels,” said I to Count Asquin, “and be very prudent, but my trust in God and in my own strength will carry me through all difficulties.”

From time to time I stretched out my hand to assure myself that Soradaci was there, for he did not speak a word.  I laughed to myself to think what he might be turning in his head now that he was convinced that I had deceived him.  At half-past ten I told him to go and see what was the position of the moon.  He obeyed and returned, saying that in an hour and a-half it would have disappeared, and that there was a thick fog which would make the leads very dangerous.

“All I ask,” I said, “is that the fog be not made of oil.  Put your cloak in a packet with some of the rope which must be divided equally between us.”

At this I was astonished to find him at my knees kissing my hands, and entreating me not to kill him.  “I should be sure,” said he, “to fall over into the canal, and I should not be of any use to you.  Ah! leave me here, and all the night I will pray to St. Francis for you.  You can kill me or save me alive; but of this I am determined, never to follow you.”

The fool never thought how he had responded to my prayers.

“You are right,” I said, “you may stop here on the condition that you will pray to St. Francis; and that you go forthwith and fetch my books, which I wish to leave to the count.”

He did so without answering me, doubtless with much joy.  My books were worth at least a hundred crowns.  The count told me that he would give them back on my return.