tine. Virtue, it
was said, may have compassion on vice, but cannot become its friend.

After dinner M. de Bragadin took me into his closet with his two friends,
from whom he had no secrets. He told me with wonderful calmness that
instead of meditating vengeance on Messer-Grande I should be thinking of
putting myself in a place of safety. "The portmanteau," said he, "was a
mere pretext; it was you they wanted and thought to find. Since your good
genius has made them miss you, look out for yourself; perhaps by
to-morrow it may be too late. I have been a State Inquisitor for eight
months, and I know the way in which the arrests ordered by the court are
carried out. They would not break open a door to look for a box of salt.
Indeed, it is possible that they knew you were out, and sought to warn
you to escape in this manner. Take my advice, my dear son, and set out
directly for Fusina, and thence as quickly as you can make your way to
Florence, where you can remain till I write to you that you may return
with safety. If you have no money I will give you a hundred sequins for
present expenses. Believe me that prudence bids you go."

Blinded by my folly, I answered him that being guilty of nothing I had
nothing to fear, and that consequently, although I knew his advice was
good, I could not follow it.

"The high court," said he, "may deem you guilty of crimes real or
imaginary; but in any case it will give you no account of the accusations
against you. Ask your oracle if you shall follow my advice or not." I
refused because I knew the folly of such a proceeding, but by way of
excuse I said that I only consulted it when I was in doubt. Finally, I
reasoned that if I fled I should be shewing fear, and thus confessing my
guilt, for an innocent man, feeling no remorse, cannot reasonably be
afraid of anything.

"If secrecy," said I, "is of the essence of the Court, you cannot
possibly judge, after my escape, whether I have done so rightly or
wrongly. The same reasons, which, according to your excellence, bid me
go, would forbid my return. Must I then say good-bye for ever to my
country, and all that is dear to me?" As a last resource he tried to
persuade me to pass the following day and night, at least, at the palace.
I am still ashamed of having refused the worthy old man to whom I owed so
much this favour; for the palace of a noble is sacred to the police who
dare not cross its threshold without a special order from the Tribuna