ct of self-preservation, he not merely attempted, but
actually succeeded in raising himself so as to bring his side against
the gutter. Then continuing gradually to raise himself until his waist
was on a level with the edge, he threw the weight of his trunk forward
upon the roof, and slowly brought his right leg up until he had obtained
with his knee a further grip of the gutter. The rest was easy, and
you may conceive him as he lay there on the roof's edge, panting and
shuddering for a moment to regain his breath and nerve.

Meanwhile, the ladder, driven forward by the thrust that had so nearly
cost him his life, had penetrated another three feet through the window,
and hung there immovable. Recovered, he took up his spontoon, which he
had placed in the gutter, and, assisted by it, he climbed back to
the dormer. Almost without further difficulty, he succeeded now in
introducing the ladder until, of its own weight, it swung down into
position.

A moment later he had joined Balbi in the attic, and together they
groped about in it the dark, until finding presently a door, they
passed into another chamber, where they discovered furniture by hurtling
against it. Guided by a faint glimmer of light, Casanova made his way to
one of the windows and opened it. He looked out upon a black abyss, and,
having no knowledge of the locality, and no inclination to adventure
himself into unknown regions, he immediately abandoned all idea of
attempting to climb down. He closed the window again, and going back to
the other room, he lay down on the floor, with the bundle of ropes for a
pillow, to wait for dawn.

And so exhausted was he, not only by the efforts of the past hours, and
the terrible experience in which they had culminated, but also because
in the last two days he had scarcely eaten or slept, that straightway,
and greatly to Balbi's indignation and disgust, he fell into a profound
sleep.

He was aroused three and a half hours later by the clamours and shakings
of the exasperated monk. Protesting that such a sleep at such a time was
a thing inconceivable, Balbi informed him that it had just struck five.

It was still dark, but already there was a dim grey glimmer of dawn
by which objects could be faintly discerned. Searching, Casanova
found another door opposite that of the chamber which they had entered
earlier. It was locked, but the lock was a poor one that yielded to half
a dozen blows of the spontoon, and they passed in