.

I did not lose any time in joining the honest company, which was alarmed
at the thought of not seeing me. Supper went off without any allusion to
gambling, but my admirable qualities were highly praised, and it was
decided that a brilliant fortune awaited me in Rome. After supper there
was no talk of play, but giving way to my evil genius I loudly asked for
my revenge. I was told that if I would take the bank everyone would punt.
I took the bank, lost every sequin I had, and retired, begging the monk
to pay what I owed to the landlord, which he promised to do.

I was in despair, and to crown my misery I found out as I was going home
that I had met the day before with another living specimen of the Greek
woman, less beautiful but as perfidious. I went to bed stunned by my
grief, and I believe that I must have fainted into a heavy sleep, which
lasted eleven hours; my awaking was that of a miserable being, hating the
light of heaven, of which he felt himself unworthy, and I closed my eyes
again, trying to sleep for a little while longer. I dreaded to rouse
myself up entirely, knowing that I would then have to take some decision;
but I never once thought of returning to Venice, which would have been
the very best thing to do, and I would have destroyed myself rather than
confide my sad position to the young doctor. I was weary of my existence,
and I entertained vaguely some hope of starving where I was, without
leaving my bed. It is certain that I should not have got up if M. Alban,
the master of the peotta, had not roused me by calling upon me and
informing me that the boat was ready to sail.

The man who is delivered from great perplexity, no matter by what means,
feels himself relieved. It seemed to me that Captain Alban had come to
point out the only thing I could possibly do; I dressed myself in haste,
and tying all my worldly possessions in a handkerchief I went on board.
Soon afterwards we left the shore, and in the morning we cast anchor in
Orsara, a seaport of Istria. We all landed to visit the city, which would
more properly be called a village. It belongs to the Pope, the Republic
of Venice having abandoned it to the Holy See.

A young monk of the order of the Recollects who called himself Friar
Stephano of Belun, and had obtained a free passage from the devout
Captain Alban, joined me as we landed and enquired whether I felt sick.

"Reverend father, I am unhappy."

"You will forget all your sorrow, if yo