all sorts. Those who were aware that I possessed these
books took me for an expert magician, and I was not sorry to have such a
reputation.

Messer-Grande took also the books on the table by my bed, such as
Petrarch, Ariosto, Horace. "The Military' Philosopher" (a manuscript
which Mathilde had given me), "The Porter of Chartreux," and "The
Aretin," which Manuzzi had also denounced, for Messer-Grande asked me for
it by name. This spy, Manuzzi, had all the appearance of an honest man--a
very necessary qualification for his profession. His son made his fortune
in Poland by marrying a lady named Opeska, whom, as they say, he killed,
though I have never had any positive proof on the matter, and am willing
to stretch Christian charity to the extent of believing he was innocent,
although he was quite capable of such a crime.

While Messer-Grande was thus rummaging among my manuscripts, books and
letters, I was dressing myself in an absent-minded manner, neither
hurrying myself nor the reverse. I made my toilette, shaved myself, and
combed my hair; putting on mechanically a laced shirt and my holiday suit
without saying a word, and without Messer-Grande--who did not let me
escape his sight for an instant--complaining that I was dressing myself
as if I were going to a wedding.

As I went out I was surprised to see a band of forty men-at-arms in the
ante-room. They had done me the honour of thinking all these men
necessary for my arrest, though, according to the axiom 'Ne Hercules
quidem contra duos', two would have been enough. It is curious that in
London, where everyone is brave, only one man is needed to arrest
another, whereas in my dear native land, where cowardice prevails, thirty
are required. The reason is, perhaps, that the coward on the offensive is
more afraid than the coward on the defensive, and thus a man usually
cowardly is transformed for the moment into a man of courage. It is
certain that at Venice one often sees a man defending himself against
twenty sbirri, and finally escaping after beating them soundly. I
remember once helping a friend of mine at Paris to escape from the hands
of forty bum-bailiffs, and we put the whole vile rout of them to flight.

Messer-Grande made me get into a gondola, and sat down near me with an
escort of four men. When we came to our destination he offered me coffee,
which I refused; and he then shut me up in a room. I passed these four
hours in sleep, waking up every quarter of