here to see which way he would come,
and a few minutes before midnight I saw him advancing from the square of
Saint-Paul. It was all I wanted to know; I went back to my boat and
returned to the fort without any difficulty. At five o'clock in the
morning everyone in the garrison could see me enjoying my walk on the
platform.

Taking all the time necessary to mature my plans, I made the following
arrangements to secure my revenge with perfect safety, and to prove an
alibi in case I should kill my rascally enemy, as it was my intention to
do. The day preceding the night fixed for my expedition, I walked about
with the son of the Adjutant Zen, who was only twelve years old, but who
amused me much by his shrewdness. The reader will meet him again in the
year 1771. As I was walking with him, I jumped down from one of the
bastions, and feigned to sprain my ankle. Two soldiers carried me to my
room, and the surgeon of the fort, thinking that I was suffering from a
luxation, ordered me to keep to bed, and wrapped up the ankle in towels
saturated with camphorated spirits of wine. Everybody came to see me, and
I requested the soldier who served me to remain and to sleep in my room.
I knew that a glass of brandy was enough to stupefy the man, and to make
him sleep soundly. As soon as I saw him fast asleep, I begged the surgeon
and the chaplain, who had his room over mine, to leave me, and at
half-past ten I lowered myself in the boat.

As soon as I reached Venice, I bought a stout cudgel, and I sat myself
down on a door-step, at the corner of the street near Saint-Paul's
Square. A narrow canal at the end of the street, was, I thought, the very
place to throw my enemy in. That canal has now disappeared.

At a quarter before twelve I see Razetta, walking along leisurely. I come
out of the street with rapid strides, keeping near the wall to compel him
to make room for me, and I strike a first blow on the head, and a second
on his arm; the third blow sends him tumbling in the canal, howling and
screaming my name. At the same instant a Forlan, or citizen of Forli,
comes out of a house on my left side with a lantern in his hand. A blow
from my cudgel knocks the lantern out of his grasp, and the man,
frightened out of his wits, takes to his heels. I throw away my stick, I
run at full speed through the square and over the bridge, and while
people are hastening towards the spot where the disturbance had taken
place, I jump into the boat,