ucci whispered to me that the ambassador would do his best in a
confidential way to get my release, and that he had no doubt of his
success.

When my visitors were gone I sat down to write, but I had need of all my
patience. The rascally prisoners crowded round me to read what I was
writing, and when they could not understand it they were impudent enough
to ask me to explain it to them. Under the pretext of snuffing the
candle, they put it out. However, I bore with it all. One of the soldiers
said he would keep them quiet for a crown, but I gave him no answer. In
spite of the hell around me, I finished my letters and sealed them up.
They were no studied or rhetorical epistles, but merely the expression of
the fury with which I was consumed.

I told Mocenigo that it was his duty to defend a subject of his prince,
who had been arrested and imprisoned by a foreign power on an idle
pretext. I shewed him that he must give me his protection unless I was
guilty, and that I had committed no offence against the law of the land.
I reminded him that I was a Venetian, in spite of my persecution at the
hands of the State Inquisitors, and that being a Venetian I had a right
to count on his protection.

To Don Emmanuel de Roda, a learned scholar, and the minister of justice,
I wrote that I did not ask any favour but only simple justice.

"Serve God and your master," said I. "Let his Catholic majesty save me
from the hands of the infamous alcalde who has arrested me, an honest and
a law-abiding man, who came to Spain trusting in his own innocence and
the protection of the laws. The person who writes to you, my lord, has a
purse full of doubloons in his pocket; he has already been robbed, and
fears assassination in the filthy den in which he has been imprisoned."

I wrote to the Duke of Lossada, requesting him to inform the king that
his servants had subjected to vile treatment a man whose only fault was
that he had a little money. I begged him to use his influence with his
Catholic majesty to put a stop to these infamous proceedings.

But the most vigorous letter of all was the one I addressed to the Count
of Aranda. I told him plainly that if this infamous action went on I
should be forced to believe that it was by his orders, since I had stated
in vain that I came to Madrid with an introduction to him from a
princess.

"I have committed no crime," I said; "what compensation am I to have when
I am released from this filthy and