ryman belonged to a friend of mine. I walked in, asked
if the master was at home, and was shewn into a room where he was writing
by himself. I stepped forward to greet him, but as soon as he saw me he
seemed horrified and bid me be gone forthwith, giving me idle and
insulting reasons for his behaviour. I explained to him how I was
situated, and asked him to let me have sixty sequins on my note of hand,
drawn on M. de Bragadin. He replied that he could not so much as give me
a glass of water, since he dreaded the wrath of the Tribunal for my very
presence in his house. He was a stockbroker, about sixty years old, and
was under great obligations to me. His inhuman refusal produced quite a
different effect on me than that of M. Grimani. Whether from rage,
indignation, or nature, I took him by the collar, I shewed him my pike,
and raising my voice threatened to kill him. Trembling all over, he took
a key from his pocket and shewing me a bureau told me he kept money
there, and I had only to open it and take what I wanted; I told him to
open it himself. He did so, and on his opening a drawer containing gold,
I told him to count me out six sequins.

"You asked me for sixty."

"Yes, that was when I was asking a loan of you as a friend; but since I
owe the money to force, I require six only, and I will give you no note
of hand. You shall be repaid at Venice, where I shall write of the pass
to which you forced me, you cowardly wretch!"

"I beg your pardon! take the sixty sequins, I entreat you."

"No, no more. I am going on my way, and I advise you not to hinder me,
lest in my despair I come back and burn your house about your ears."

I went out and walked for two hours, until the approach of night and
weariness made me stop short at the house of a farmer, where I had a bad
supper and a bed of straw. In the morning, I bought an old overcoat, and
hired an ass to journey on, and near Feltre I bought a pair of boots. In
this guise I passed the hut called the Scala. There was a guard there
who, much to my delight, as the reader will guess, did not even honour me
by asking my name. I then took a two-horse carriage and got to Borgo de
Valsugano in good time, and found Father Balbi at the inn I had told him
of. If he had not greeted me first I should not have known him. A great
overcoat, a low hat over a thick cotton cap, disguised him to admiration.
He told me that a farmer had given him these articles in exchange for my
cloak, tha