erosity he made me a present of six beautiful
botargoes.

I happened during our conversation to praise the wine of Xante, which he
called generoydes, and he told me that if I would accompany him to Venice
he would give me a bottle of that wine every day including the
quarantine. Always superstitious, I was on the point of accepting, and
that for the most foolish reason-namely, that there would be no
premeditation in that strange resolution, and it might be the impulse of
fate. Such was my nature in those days; alas; it is very different now.
They say that it is because wisdom comes with old age, but I cannot
reconcile myself to cherish the effect of a most unpleasant cause.

Just as I was going to accept his offer he proposes to sell me a very
fine gun for ten sequins, saying that in Corfu anyone would be glad of it
for twelve. The word Corfu upsets all my ideas on the spot! I fancy I
hear the voice of my genius telling me to go back to that city. I
purchase the gun for the ten sequins, and my honest Cephalonian, admiring
my fair dealing, gives me, over and above our bargain, a beautiful
Turkish pouch well filled with powder and shot. Carrying my gun, with a
good warm cloak over my uniform and with a large bag containing all my
purchases, I take leave of the worthy Greek, and am landed on the shore,
determined on obtaining a lodging from the cheating papa, by fair means
or foul. The good wine of my friend the Cephalonian had excited me just
enough to make me carry my determination into immediate execution. I had
in my pockets four or five hundred copper gazzette, which were very
heavy, but which I had procured from the Greek, foreseeing that I might
want them during my stay on the island.

I store my bag away in the barn and I proceed, gun in hand, towards the
house of the priest; the church was closed.

I must give my readers some idea of the state I was in at that moment. I
was quietly hopeless. The three or four hundred sequins I had with me did
not prevent me from thinking that I was not in very great security on the
island; I could not remain long, I would soon be found out, and, being
guilty of desertion, I should be treated accordingly. I did not know what
to do, and that is always an unpleasant predicament. It would be absurd
for me to return to Corfu of my own accord; my flight would then be
useless, and I should be thought a fool, for my return would be a proof
of cowardice or stupidity; yet I did not feel