he bishop to give him an account of these proceedings, and
make him understand that he owes you some reparation. Besides, General
Spada is here, and...."

"I know him," interrupted the captain, "and if I had been aware of his
being in Cesena, I would have shot the landlord when he opened my door to
those scoundrels."

I hurried over my toilet, and without waiting for my hair to be dressed I
proceeded to the bishop's palace, and making a great deal of noise I
almost compelled the servants to take me to his room. A lackey who was at
the door informed me that his lordship was still in bed.

"Never mind, I cannot wait."

I pushed him aside and entered the room. I related the whole affair to
the bishop, exaggerating the uproar, making much of the injustice of such
proceedings, and railing at a vexatious police daring to molest
travellers and to insult the sacred rights of individuals and nations.

The bishop without answering me referred me to his chancellor, to whom I
repeated all I had said to the bishop, but with words calculated to
irritate rather than to soften, and certainly not likely to obtain the
release of the captain. I even went so far as to threaten, and I said
that if I were in the place of the officer I would demand a public
reparation. The priest laughed at my threats; it was just what I wanted,
and after asking me whether I had taken leave of my senses, the
chancellor told me to apply to the captain of the 'sbirri'.

"I shall go to somebody else," I said, "reverend sir, besides the captain
of the 'sbirri'."

Delighted at having made matters worse, I left him and proceeded straight
to the house of General Spada, but being told that he could not be seen
before eight o'clock, I returned to the inn.

The state of excitement in which I was, the ardour with which I had made
the affair mine, might have led anyone to suppose that my indignation had
been roused only by disgust at seeing an odious persecution perpetrated
upon a stranger by an unrestrained, immoral, and vexatious police; but
why should I deceive the kind reader, to whom I have promised to tell the
truth; I must therefore say that my indignation was real, but my ardour
was excited by another feeling of a more personal nature. I fancied that
the woman concealed under the bed-clothes was a beauty. I longed to see
her face, which shame, most likely, had prevented her from shewing. She
had heard me speak, and the good opinion that I had of myself di