procured him admission into the best company in the town.

I met him at the house of Count Torres, and soon after he was married to
the young countess.

In October the new Council of Ten and the new Inquisitors took office,
and my protectors wrote to me that if they could not obtain my pardon in
the course of the next twelve months they would be inclined to despair.
The first of the Inquisitors was Sagredo, and intimate friend of the
Procurator Morosini's; the second, Grimani, the friend of my good
Dandolo; and M. Zaguri wrote to me that he would answer for the third,
who, according to law, was one of the six councillors who assist the
Council of Ten.

It may not be generally known that the Council of Ten is really a council
of seventeen, as the Doge has always a right to be present.

I returned to Trieste determined to do my best for the Tribunal, for I
longed to return to Venice after nineteen years' wanderings.

I was then forty-nine, and I expected no more of Fortune's gifts, for the
deity despises those of ripe age. I thought, however, that I might live
comfortably and independently at Venice.

I had talents and experience, I hoped to make use of them, and I thought
the Inquisitors would feel bound to give me some sufficient employment.

I was writing the history of the Polish troubles, the first volume was
printed, the second was in preparation, and I thought of concluding the
work in seven volumes. Afterwards I had a translation of the "Iliad" in
view, and other literary projects would no doubt present themselves.

In fine, I thought myself sure of living in Venice, where many persons
who would be beggars elsewhere continue to live at their ease.

I left Gorice on the last day of December, 1773, and on January 1st I
took up my abode at Trieste.

I could not have received a warmer welcome. Baron Pittoni, the Venetian
consul, all the town councillors, and the members of the club, seemed
delighted to see me again. My carnival was a pleasant one, and in the
beginning of Lent I published the second volume of my work on Poland.

The chief object of interest to me at Trieste was an actress in a company
that was playing there. She was no other than the daughter of the
so-called Count Rinaldi, and my readers may remember her under the name
of Irene. I had loved her at Milan, and neglected her at Genoa on account
of her father's misdeeds, and at Avignon I had rescued her at Marcoline's
request. Eleven years had