hand to me, in token of wishing me a prosperous
journey. And as soon; as he was out of my sight I gave thanks to God
that, this man by his quickness had preserved me from the commission of a
crime, for I would have killed him; and he, as it turned out, bore me no
ill will.

I was in a terrible position. In open war with all the powers of-the
Republic, everything had to give way to my safety, which made me neglect
no means of attaining my ends.

With the gloom of a man who has passed through a great peril, I gave a
glance of contempt towards the monk, who now saw to what danger he had
exposed us, and then got up again into the carriage. We reached Trevisa
without further adventure, and I told the posting-master to get me a
carriage and two horses ready by ten o'clock; though I had no intention
of continuing my journey along the highway, both because I lacked means;
and because I feared pursuit. The inn-keeper asked me, if I would take
any breakfast, of which I stood in great need, for I was dying with
hunger, but I did not dare to, accept his offer, as a quarter of an
hour's delay might, prove fatal. I was afraid of being retaken, and of
being ashamed of it for the rest of my life; for a man of sense ought to
be able to snap his fingers at four hundred thousand men in the open
country, and if he cannot escape capture he must be a fool.

I went out by St. Thomas's Gate as if I was going for a short walk, and
after walking for a mile on the highway I struck into the fields,
resolving not to leave them as long as I should be within the borders of
the Republic. The shortest way was by Bassano, but I took the longer
path, thinking I might possibly be expected on the more direct road,
while they would never think of my leaving the Venetian territory by way
of Feltre, which is the longest way of getting into the state subject to
the Bishop of Trent.

After walking for three hours I let myself drop to the ground, for I
could not move a step further. I must either take some food or die there,
so I told the monk to leave the cloak with me and go to a farm I saw,
there to buy something to eat. I gave him the money, and he set off,
telling me that he thought I had more courage. The miserable man did not
know what courage was, but he was more robust than myself, and he had,
doubtless, taken in provisions before leaving the prison. Besides he had
had some chocolate; he was thin and wiry, and a monk, and mental
anxieties were unkn