ong arguments in favour of celibacy while we were at Parma?
Consider also, I beg, that every man has a certain small stock of
selfishness, and that I may be allowed to have mine when I think that if
M. Dandolo took a wife the influence of that wife would of course have
some weight, and that the more she gained in influence over him the more
I should lose. So you see it would not be natural for me to advise him to
take a step which would ultimately prove very detrimental to my
interests. If you can prove that my reasons are either trifling or
sophistical, speak openly: I will tell M. Dandolo that my mind has
changed; Madame Tripolo will become his wife when we return to Venice.
But let me warn you that thorough conviction can alone move me."

"I do not believe myself clever enough to convince you. I shall write to
Madame Tripolo that she must apply to you."

"Do not write anything of the sort to that lady, or she will think that
you are laughing at her. Do you suppose her foolish enough to expect that
I will give way to her wishes? She knows that I do not like her."

"How can she possibly know that?"

"She must have remarked that I have never cared to accompany M. Dandolo
to her house. Learn from me once for all, that as long as I live with my
three friends they shall have no wife but me. You may get married as soon
as you please; I promise not to throw any obstacle in your way; but if
you wish to remain on friendly terms with me give up all idea of leading
my three friends astray."

"You are very caustic this morning."

"I lost all my money last night.

"Then I have chosen a bad time. Farewell."

From that day, De la Haye became my secret enemy, and to him I was in a
great measure indebted, two years later, for my imprisonment under The
Leads of Venice; not owing to his slanders, for I do not believe he was
capable of that, Jesuit though he was--and even amongst such people there
is sometimes some honourable feeling--but through the mystical
insinuations which he made in the presence of bigoted persons. I must
give fair notice to my readers that, if they are fond of such people,
they must not read these Memoirs, for they belong to a tribe which I have
good reason to attack unmercifully.

The fine marriage was never again alluded to. M. Dandolo continued to
visit his beautiful widow every day, and I took care to elicit from
Paralis a strong interdiction ever to put my foot in her house.

Don Antonio Croce, a y