egs, and
when he stood up in the room beyond he was bleeding freely from the
wounds which the jagged edges of the wood had dealt him.

After that they went down two staircases, and came out at last in the
gallery leading to the great doors at the head of that magnificent
flight of steps known as the Giant's Staircase. But these doors--the
main entrance of the palace--were locked, and, at a glance, Casanova saw
that nothing short of a hatchet would serve to open them. There was no
more to be done.

With a resignation that seemed to Balbi entirely cynical, Casanova sat
down on the floor.

"My task is ended," he announced. "It is now for Heaven or Chance to do
the rest. I don't know whether the palace cleaners will come here to-day
as it is All Saints', or to-morrow, which will be All Souls'. Should any
one come, I shall run for it the moment the door is opened, and you had
best follow me. If no one comes, I shall not move from here, and if I
die of hunger, so much the worse."

It was a speech that flung the monk into a passion. In burning terms he
reviled Casanova, calling him a madman, a seducer, a deceiver, a liar.
Casanova let him rave. It was just striking six. Precisely an hour had
elapsed since they had left the attic.

Balbi, in his red flannel waistcoat and his puce-coloured leather
breeches, might have passed for a peasant; but Casanova, in torn
garments that were soaked in blood, presented an appearance that was
terrifying and suspicious. This he proceeded to repair. Tearing a
handkerchief, he made shift to bandage his wounds, and then from his
bundle he took his fine taffeta summer suit, which on a winter's day
must render him ridiculous.

He dressed his thick, dark brown hair as best he could, drew on a pair
of white stockings, and donned three lace shirts one over another. His
fine cloak of floss silk he gave to Balbi, who looked for all the world
as if he had stolen it.

Thus dressed, his fine hat laced with point of Spain on his head,
Casanova opened a window and looked out. At once he was seen by some
idlers in the courtyard, who, amazed at his appearance there, and
conceiving that he must have been locked in by mistake on the previous
day, went off at once to advise the porter. Meanwhile, Casanova, vexed
at having shown himself where he had not expected any one, and little
guessing how excellently this was to serve his ends, left the window
and went to sit beside the angry friar, who greeted him