safety, and the postillion, who very likely out of
fear had driven me in good style, was well pleased with my liberality; it
was the best way of making peace with the tribe. My arrival caused great
joy to my three friends, whom my sudden departure had alarmed, with the
exception of M. de Bragadin, in whose hands I had placed my cash-box the
day before. His two friends had given credence to the general report,
stating that the podesta had ordered me to leave Padua. They forgot that
I was a citizen of Venice, and that the podesta could not pass such a
sentence upon me without exposing himself to legal proceedings. I was
tired, but instead of going to bed I dressed myself in my best attire in
order to go to the opera without a mask. I told my friends that it was
necessary for me to shew myself, so as to give the lie to all that had
been reported about me by slandering tongues. De la Haye said to me,

"I shall be delighted if all those reports are false; but you have no one
to blame but yourself, for your hurried departure gave sufficient cause
for all sorts of surmises."

"And for slander."

"That may be; but people want to know everything, and they invent when
they cannot guess the truth."

"And evil-minded fools lose no time in repeating those inventions
everywhere."

"But there can be no doubt that you wanted to kill the postillion. Is
that a calumny likewise?"

"The greatest of all. Do you think that a good shot can miss a man when
he is firing in his very face, unless he does it purposely?"

"It seems difficult; but at all events it is certain that the horse is
dead, and you must pay for it."

"No, sir, not even if the horse belonged to you, for the postillion
preceded me. You know a great many things; do you happen to know the
posting regulations? Besides, I was in a great hurry because I had
promised a pretty woman to breakfast with her, and such engagements, as
you are well aware, cannot be broken."

Master de la Haye looked angry at the rather caustic irony with which I
had sprinkled the dialogue; but he was still more vexed when, taking some
gold out of my pocket, I returned to him the sum he had lent me in
Vienna. A man never argues well except when his purse is well filled;
then his spirits are pitched in a high key, unless he should happen to be
stupefied by some passion raging in his soul.

M. de Bragadin thought I was quite right to shew myself at the opera
without a mask.

The moment I made my