door, but what was
my astonishment to find it useless, as the door was open, and what is
more, the lock burst off. I ran upstairs, and found them all up, and my
landlady uttering bitter lamentations.

"Messer-Grande," she told me, "has entered my house forcibly, accompanied
by a band of sbirri. He turned everything upside down, on the pretext
that he was in search of a portmanteau full of salt--a highly contraband
article. He said he knew that a portmanteau had been landed there the
evening before, which was quite true; but it belonged to Count S----, and
only contained linen and clothes. Messer-Grande, after inspecting it,
went out without saying a word."

He had also paid my room a visit. She told me that she must have some
reparation made her, and thinking she was in the right I promised to
speak to M. de Bragadin on the matter the same day. Needing rest above
all things, I lay down, but my nervous excitement, which I attributed to
my heavy losses at play, made me rise after three or four hours, and I
went to see M. de Bragadin, to whom I told the whole story begging him to
press for some signal amends. I made a lively representation to him of
all the grounds on which my landlady required proportionate amends to be
made, since the laws guaranteed the peace of all law-abiding people.

I saw that the three friends were greatly saddened by what I said, and
the wise old man, quietly but sadly, told me that I should have my answer
after dinner.

De la Haye dined with us, but all through the meal, which was a
melancholy one, he spoke not a word. His silence should have told me all,
if I had not been under the influence of some malevolent genii who would
not allow me to exercise my common sense: as to the sorrow of my three
friends, I put that down to their friendship for me. My connection with
these worthy men had always been the talk of the town, and as all were
agreed that it could not be explained on natural grounds, it was deemed
to be the effect of some sorcery exercised by me. These three men were
thoroughly religious and virtuous citizens; I was nothing if not
irreligious, and Venice did not contain a greater libertine. Virtue, it
was said, may have compassion on vice, but cannot become its friend.

After dinner M. de Bragadin took me into his closet with his two friends,
from whom he had no secrets. He told me with wonderful calmness that
instead of meditating vengeance on Messer-Grande I should be thinking of