e more,
as he thought I had got mad. The poor monk, as I have said, was a fool,
and whatever was bad about him was the result of his folly. I had been
under the sad necessity of turning him to account, but though without
intending to do so he had almost been my ruin. It was no use trying to
make him believe that I had told the gondoliers to go to Fusina whilst I
intended to go to Mestre; he said I could not have thought of that till I
got on to the Grand Canal.

In due course we reached Mestre. There were no horses to ride post, but I
found men with coaches who did as well, and I agreed with one of them to
take me to Trevisa in an hour and a quarter. The horses were put in in
three minutes, and with the idea that Father Balbi was behind me I turned
round to say "Get up," but he was not there. I told an ostler to go and
look for him, with the intention of reprimanding him sharply, even if he
had gone for a necessary occasion, for we had no time to waste, not even
thus. The man came back saying he could not find' him, to my great rage
and indignation. I was tempted to abandon him, but a feeling of humanity
restrained me. I made enquiries all round; everybody had seen him, but
not a soul knew where he was. I walked along the High Street, and some
instinct prompting me to put my head in at the window of a cafe. I saw
the wretched man standing at the bar drinking chocolate and making love
to the girl. Catching sight of me, he pointed to the girl and said--

"She's charming," and then invited me to take a cup of chocolate, saying
that I must pay, as he hadn't a penny. I kept back my wrath and answered,

"I don't want any, and do you make haste!" and caught hold of his arm in
such sort that he turned white with pain. I paid the money and we went
out. I trembled with anger. We got into our coach, but we had scarcely
gone ten paces before I recognised: an inhabitant, of Mestre named Balbi
Tommasi, a good sort of man; but reported to be one of the familiars of
the Holy Office. He knew me, too, and coming up called out,

"I am delighted to see you here. I suppose you have just escaped. How did
you do it?"

"I have not escaped, but have been set at liberty."

"No, no, that's not possible, as I was at M. Grimani's yesterday evening,
and I should have heard of it."

It will be easier for the reader to imagine my state of mind than for me
to describe it. I was discovered by a man whom I believed to be a hired
agent of the Gover