ything had taken a good turn, and I felt
certain of success, for I was young, I enjoyed excellent health, I had
money and plenty of daring. I liked the affair all the better because it
must come to a conclusion in a few days.

Early the next morning I called upon Count Dandini, the owner of the
carriage, and as I passed a jeweller's shop I bought a pair of gold
bracelets in Venetian filigree, each five yards long and of rare
fineness. I intended them as a present for Javotte.

The moment Count Dandini saw me he recognized me. He had seen me in Padua
at the house of his father, who was professor of civil law at the time I
was a student there. I bought his carriage on condition that he would
send it to me in good repair at one o'clock in the afternoon.

Having completed the purchase, I went to my friend, Franzia, and my
present of the bracelets made Javotte perfectly happy. There was not one
girl in Cesena who could boast of possessing a finer pair, and with that
present my conscience felt at ease, for it paid the expense I had
occasioned during my stay of ten or twelve days at her father's house
four times over. But this was not the most important present I offered
the family. I made the father take an oath to wait for me, and never to
trust in any pretended magician for the necessary operation to obtain the
treasure, even if I did not return or give any news of myself for ten
years.

"Because," I said to him, "in consequence of the agreement in which I
have entered with the spirits watching the treasure, at the first attempt
made by any other person, the casket containing the treasure will sink to
twice its present depth, that is to say as deep as thirty-five fathoms,
and then I shall have myself ten times more difficulty in raising it to
the surface. I cannot state precisely the time of my return, for it
depends upon certain combinations which are not under my control, but
recollect that the treasure cannot be obtained by anyone but I."

I accompanied my advice with threats of utter ruin to his family if he
should ever break his oath. And in this manner I atoned for all I had
done, for, far from deceiving the worthy man, I became his benefactor by
guarding against the deceit of some cheat who would have cared for his
money more than for his daughter. I never saw him again, and most likely
he is dead, but knowing the deep impression I left on his mind I am
certain that his descendants are even now waiting for me, fo