h felony in
the eyes of the clergy, and a great deal was made of it. I was summoned
to appear within twenty-four hours, and it was evident that I would be
arrested immediately afterwards. M. de Bragadin, who always gave good
advice, told me that the best way to avoid the threatening storm was to
run away. The advice was certainly wise, and I lost no time in getting
ready.

I have never left Venice with so much regret as I did then, for I had
some pleasant intrigues on hand, and I was very lucky at cards. My three
friends assured me that, within one year at the furthest, the cases
against me would be forgotten, and in Venice, when public opinion has
forgotten anything, it can be easily arranged.

I left Venice in the evening and the next day I slept at Verona. Two days
afterwards I reached Mantua. I was alone, with plenty of clothes and
jewels, without letters of introduction, but with a well-filled purse,
enjoying excellent health and my twenty-three years.

In Mantua I ordered an excellent dinner, the very first thing one ought
to do at a large hotel, and after dinner I went out for a walk. In the
evening, after I had seen the coffee-houses and the places of resort, I
went to the theatre, and I was delighted to see Marina appear on the
stage as a comic dancer, amid the greatest applause, which she deserved,
for she danced beautifully. She was tall, handsome, very well made and
very graceful. I immediately resolved on renewing my acquaintance with
her, if she happened to be free, and after the opera I engaged a boy to
take me to her house. She had just sat down to supper with someone, but
the moment she saw me she threw her napkin down and flew to my arms. I
returned her kisses, judging by her warmth that her guest was a man of no
consequence.

The servant, without waiting for orders, had already laid a plate for me,
and Marina invited me to sit down near her. I felt vexed, because the
aforesaid individual had not risen to salute me, and before I accepted
Marina's invitation I asked her who the gentleman was, begging her to
introduce me.

"This gentleman," she said, "is Count Celi, of Rome; he is my lover."

"I congratulate you," I said to her, and turning towards the so-called
count, "Sir," I added, "do not be angry at our mutual affection, Marina
is my daughter."

"She is a prostitute."

"True," said Marina, "and you can believe the count, for he is my
procurer."

At those words, the brute threw his knife