y purchased
of them, because they came from foreign lands; and that by such a
trade, one could make a hundred-fold. My resolution was forthwith
taken; I sold my paternal dwelling, gave a portion of the money
obtained thereby to a tried friend to preserve for me, and with the
remainder purchased such articles as were rare in France,--shawls,
silken goods, ointments, and oils; for these I hired a place upon a
vessel, and thus began my second voyage to France. It appeared as if
fortune became favorable to me, the moment I had the Straits of the
Dardanelles upon my back. Our voyage was short and prosperous. I
travelled through the cities of France, large and small, and found, in
all, ready purchasers for my goods. My friend in Stamboul continually
sent me fresh supplies, and I became richer from day to day. At last
when I had husbanded so well, that I believed myself able to venture on
some more extensive undertaking, I went with my wares into Italy. I
must, however, mention something that brought me in no little money; I
called my profession also to my assistance. As soon as I arrived in a
city I announced, by means of bills, that a Grecian physician was
there, who had already cured many; and, truly, my balsam, and my
medicines, had brought me in many a zechin.

Thus at last I reached the city of Florence, in Italy. I proposed to
myself to remain longer than usual in this place, partly because it
pleased me so well, partly, moreover, that I might recover from the
fatigues of my journey. I hired myself a shop in the quarter of the
city called St. Croce, and in a tavern not far therefrom, took a
couple of fine rooms which led out upon a balcony. Immediately I had
my bills carried around, which announced me as a physician and
merchant. I had no sooner opened my shop than buyers streamed in upon
me, and although I asked a tolerably high price, still I sold more
than others, because I was attentive and friendly to my customers.

Well satisfied, I had spent four days in Florence, when one evening,
after I had shut my shop, and according to custom was examining my
stock of ointment-boxes, I found, in one of the smaller ones, a letter
which I did not remember to have put in. I opened it and found therein
an invitation to repair that night, punctually at twelve, to the
bridge called the Ponte Vecchio. For some time I reflected upon this,
as to who it could be that had thus invited me; as, however, I knew
not a soul in Florence, I