red a
pair of scissors to be brought, that the beards of the filthy rogues
might be cut off. At this awful threat the two friars made their escape,
and we laughed heartily over the incident.

If all the count's eccentricities had been of this comparatively harmless
and amusing nature, I should not have minded, but such was far from being
the case.

Instead of chyle his organs must have distilled some virulent poison; he
was always at his worst in his after dinner hours. His appetite was
furious; he ate more like a tiger than a man. One day we happened to be
eating woodcock, and I could not help praising the dish in the style of
the true gourmand. He immediately took up his bird, tore it limb from
limb, and gravely bade me not to praise the dishes I liked as it
irritated him. I felt an inclination to laugh and also an inclination to
throw the bottle at his head, which I should probably have indulged in
had I been twenty years younger. However, I did neither, feeling that I
should either leave him or accommodate myself to his humours.

Three months later Madame Costa, the actress whom he had gone to see at
Gorice, told me that she would never have believed in the possibility of
such a creature existing if she had not known Count Torriano.

"Though he is a vigorous lover," she continued, "it is a matter of great
difficulty with him to obtain the crisis; and the wretched woman in his
arms is in imminent danger of being strangled to death if she cannot
conceal her amorous ecstacy. He cannot bear to see another's pleasure. I
pity his wife most heartily."

I will now relate the incident which put an end to my relations with this
venomous creature.

Amidst the idleness and weariness of Spessa I happened to meet a very
pretty and very agreeable young widow. I made her some small presents,
and finally persuaded her to pass the night in my room. She came at
midnight to avoid observation, and left at day-break by a small door
which opened on to the road.

We had amused ourselves in this pleasant manner for about a week, when
one morning my sweetheart awoke me that I might close the door after her
as usual. I had scarcely done so when I heard cries for help. I quickly
opened it again, and I saw the scoundrelly Torriano holding the widow
with one hand while he beat her furiously with a stick he held in the
other. I rushed upon him, and we fell together, while the poor woman made
her escape.

I had only my dressing-gown on,