As I was leaving the ducal palace, I met the Abbe Grimani who told me that the abrupt manner in which I had left his house had displeased everybody.
"Even the Spanish officer?"
"No, for he remarked that, if you had truly been with the army, you could not act differently, and he has himself assured me that you were there, and to prove what he asserted he made me read an article in the newspaper, in which it is stated that you killed your captain in a duel. Of course it is only a fable?"
"How do you know that it is not a fact?"
He stopped and looked at me.
"Is it true, then?"
"I do not say so, but it may be true, quite as true as my having been with the Spanish army ten days ago."
"But that is impossible, unless you broke through the quarantine."
"But that is impossible, unless you have broken through the quarantine."
"I have broken nothing. I have openly crossed the Po at Revero, and here I am. I am sorry not to be able to present myself at your excellency's palace, but I cannot do so until I have received the most complete satisfaction from the person who has given me the lie. I could put up with an insult when I wore the livery of humility, but I cannot bear one now that I wear the garb of honour."
"You are wrong to take it in such a high tone." he said. "The person who attacked your veracity is M. Valmarana, the proveditore of the sanitary department, and he contends that, as nobody can pass through the cordon, it would be impossible for you to be here. Satisfaction, indeed! Have you forgotten who you are?"
"No, I know who I am; and I know likewise that, if I was taken for a coward before leaving Venice, now that I have returned no one shall insult me without repenting it."
The abbé softened his voice.
"Come and dine with me."
"No, because the Spanish officer would know it."
"He would even see you, for he dines with me every day."
"Very well, then I will go, and I will let him be the judge of my quarrel with M. Valmarana."
The abbé sighed, but he did not contradict me any longer.
I dined that day with Major Pelodoro and several other officers, who agreed in advising me to enter the service of the Republic, and I resolved to do so.
"I am acquainted," said the major, "with a young lieutenant whose health is not sufficiently strong to allow him to go to the East, and who would be glad to sell his commission, for which he wants one hundred sequins. But it would be necessary to obtain the consent of the secretary of war."
"Mention the matter to him," I replied, "the one hundred sequins are ready."
The major undertook the commission.
That evening I went to Madame Orio's house and found my room prepared.
It was small, clean, and convenient. More important still, it stood beside the chamber of Nanette and Marton.
After supper, Madame Orio told her nieces to show me to my room. They obeyed her command with a modest air.
I shall not trouble the reader with details. It is enough to say that the two sisters had lost none of their old charm, and as may well be supposed, we spent a most delightful night.
After that, they divided between them the agreeable duty of visiting me. To avoid surprise, in case Madame Orio should take it into her head to pay them a visit, we contrived a small improvement to the partition between the rooms. A displaced piece, moved with care and replaced with equal care, allowed them to pass in and out of my room without using the door.
As for the good lady, she believed us three living specimens of virtue, and never thought of putting us to the test.
Two or three days later, M. Grimani arranged an interview between M. Valmarana and me.
The proveditore received me with great politeness.
He told me that, if he had been aware that the sanitary line could be eluded, he would never have impugned my veracity, and thanked me for the information I had given him.
The affair was thus agreeably arranged, and until my departure I honoured M. Grimani's excellent dinner with my presence every day.
Towards the end of the month, I entered the service of the Republic as ensign in the Bala regiment, then stationed at Corfu.
the young man who had left the regiment through the magical virtue of my one hundred sequins was lieutenant.
I expected, naturally, to receive his rank with his place. The secretary of war thought otherwise.
He had reasons, and since those reasons stood between me and the army, I submitted to them. He promised, however, that at the end of the year I should be promoted to the grade of lieutenant, and he granted me leave to go to Constantinople.
I accepted, for I was determined to serve in the army.
Pierre Vendramin, an illustrious senator, obtained for me the favour of passage to Constantinople with the Chevalier Venier, who was going there as bailo. But he would not reach Corfu until a month after me. The chevalier very kindly promised to take me as he called at Corfu.
A few days before my departure, I received a letter from Therese, who informed me that the Duke de Castropignano escorted her everywhere.
"The duke is old," she wrote, "but even if he were young, you would have no cause for uneasiness on my account. Should you ever want any money, draw upon me from any place where you may happen to be, and be quite certain that your letters of exchange will be paid, even if I had to sell everything I possess to honour your signature."
Meanwhile, another passenger was to sail on the ship where I had engaged my berth. He was a noble Venetian, going to Zante as counsellor, with a numerous and brilliant retinue. The captain, who understood the practical side of rank, gave me useful advice.
"If you find yourself obliged to take your meals alone," he said, "you are not likely to fare very well. You must obtain an introduction to the nobleman, who would not fail to invite you to share his table."
The nobleman was Antonio Dolfin, known by the nickname Bucentoro, in consequence of his air of grandeur and the elegance of his toilet.
Fortunately, I did not have to beg an introduction. M. Grimani offered of his own accord to present me.
The magnificent councillor received me with great kindness and invited me at once to take my meals at his table.
I accepted with gratitude.
He added that he wished me to know his wife, who was to accompany him on the journey. I called on her the next day.
I found a lady of perfect manners, gracious, composed, but already of a certain age. Unfortunately, she was completely deaf. Her politeness was therefore more visible than her conversation, and I soon understood that I had little pleasure to expect from that quarter.
She had a very charming young daughter, whom she left in a convent. That young lady afterwards became celebrated. I believe she is still living, the widow of Procurator Iron, whose family is now extinct.
I have seldom seen a finer-looking man, or a man of more imposing appearance than M. Dolfin.
He was eminently distinguished for his wit and politeness. He was eloquent, always cheerful when he lost at cards, the favourite of ladies, whom he endeavoured to please in everything, always courageous, and of an equal temper, whether in good or in adverse fortune.
He ventured on travelling without permission and entered a foreign service. This brought him into disgrace with the government, for a noble son of Venice cannot be guilty of a greater crime.
For this offence he had been imprisoned in the Leads -a favour which destiny kept also in reserve for me.
He was highly gifted, generous, and not wealthy. This compelled him to ask the Grand Council for a profitable governorship, and he obtained Zante. Yet he set out with such a splendid suite that he was not likely to save much out of his salary.
Such a man as I have just portrayed could not make a fortune in Venice, because an aristocratic government cannot obtain a state of lasting, steady peace at home unless equality is maintained amongst the nobility, and equality, either moral or physical, cannot be appreciated in any other way than by appearances.
The result is that the man who does not want to lay himself open to persecution, and who happens to be superior or inferior to the others, must endeavor to conceal it by all possible means.
Thus, if a nobleman is ambitious, he must affect great contempt for dignities. If he desires employment, he must appear indifferent to office. If his features are handsome, he must neglect his appearance, he must dress badly, he must mock foreign fashions, bow without grace, care nothing for the arts, conceal his good breeding, avoid a foreign cook, wear an ill-combed wig, and, if possible, look a little dirty.
Dolfin was not endowed with any of those eminent qualities, and therefore he had no hope of a great fortune in his native country.
The day before my departure from Venice, I did not go out.
I gave the whole day to friendship, or to what, at my age, often wore that tender name. Madame Orio wept; Nanette and Marton wept; and I, not wishing to appear less sensible than the ladies, joined them in that delightful occupation.
My last night with the two sisters was full of sweetness and tears. In the midst of the raptures of love, they repeated again and again that they would never see me again.
They guessed rightly; but if they had happened to see me again they would have guessed wrongly. Observe how wonderful prophets are!
On the fifth of May, I went on board with a good supply clothes, jewels, and ready cash. The vessel carried twenty-four guns and two hundred Sclavonian soldiers.
During the night we sailed from Malamocco towards the coast of Istria, and dropped anchor in the harbour of Orsera to take on ballast.
I went ashore with several others to take a stroll through the wretched place where, nine months earlier, I had passed three days. The recollection gave me a great pleasure as compared my present position to what it was at that time.
What a difference in everything--health, social condition, and money!
I felt quite certain that in the splendid uniform I was now wearing nobody would recognize the miserable-looking abbe who, but for Friar Stephano, would have become--God knows what!