t twelve o'clock precisely on
the bridge called Ponte Vecchio. I conjectured a long time who it
could possibly be that invited me thither, but, not knowing a soul in
Florence, I thought some one wished, perhaps, to take me secretly to
some sick person, which was not uncommon, and I therefore determined to
go. However, I took the precaution to buckle on the sword my father
had given me.

When it was near midnight I set out on my way, and soon arrived at the
Ponte Vecchio. I found the bridge forsaken and lonely, and determined
to await the person who had appointed to meet me.

It was a cold night, the moon shone brightly, and I looked down on the
waves of the Arno, glistening in the moonlight. The church clocks now
struck the midnight hour, I looked up and saw before me a tall man,
enveloped in a red cloak, a corner of which he had drawn over his face.

At first, I was rather terrified, at his suddenly appearing behind me,
but soon recovered myself, and said, "If you have summoned me hither,
say what is your command." The Red Cloak turned round, and slowly
said, "Follow me." I felt somewhat uneasy at the thought of following
the stranger alone; so I stood still, saying, "Nay, sir, please first
to tell me whither. Moreover, you might let me have a peep at your
face, that I may see whether you intend any good with me." But the Red
Cloak did not seem to mind my words, "If you will not follow, Zaleukos,
stop where you are," he said, and then went on. Now my anger was
roused, and I cried, "Think you a man like me, will submit to be
tantalized by any fool, and to wait for nothing in a cold night like
this?" In three leaps I overtook him, seized him by the cloak, and
cried still louder, while grasping my sword with the other hand. But
the cloak alone remained in my hand, and the stranger vanished round
the next corner. My rage gradually subsided, but still I held the
cloak, and this I expected would give me a clue to this singular
adventure. I wrapped it round me, and walked home. When I was about a
hundred paces from my house, some one passed close by me, and whispered
to me in French, "Be on your guard, Count, there is nothing to be done
to night." But before I could look round, this somebody had passed,
and I only saw his shadow glide along the houses. That those words
were addressed to the owner of the cloak and not to me was pretty
evident, but this threw no light on the affair. The following morning,
I