order to manufacture a sheath, such as the wonderful knife required,
it was necessary to combine the most whimsical idea with the oddest
shape. I recollected very well the form of the blade, and, as I was
revolving in my mind the best way to produce something very extravagant
but well adapted to the purpose I had in view, I spied in the yard of the
hotel an old piece of leather, the remnant of what had been a fine
gentleman's boot; it was exactly what I wanted.

I took that old sole, boiled it, and made in it a slit in which I was
certain that the knife would go easily. Then I pared it carefully on all
sides to prevent the possibility of its former use being found out; I
rubbed it with pumice stone, sand, and ochre, and finally I succeeded in
imparting to my production such a queer, old-fashioned shape that I could
not help laughing in looking at my work.

When I presented it to the commissary, and he had found it an exact fit
for the knife, the good man remained astounded. We dined together, and
after dinner it was decided that his son should accompany me, and
introduce me to the master of the house in which the treasure was buried,
that I was to receive a letter of exchange for one thousand Roman crowns,
drawn by the son on Bologna, which would be made payable to my name only
after I should have found the treasure, and that the knife with the
sheath would be delivered into my hands only when I should require it for
the great operation; until then the son was to retain possession of it.

Those conditions having been agreed upon, we made an agreement in
writing, binding upon all parties, and our departure was fixed for the
day after the morrow.

As we left Mantua, the father pronounced a fervent blessing over his
son's head, and told me that he was count palatine, shewing me the
diploma which he had received from the Pope. I embraced him, giving him
his title of count, and pocketed his letter of exchange.

After bidding adieu to Marina, who was then the acknowledged mistress of
Count Arcorati, and to Baletti whom I was sure of meeting again in Venice
before the end of the year, I went to sup with my friend O'Neilan.

We started early in the morning, travelled through Ferrara and Bologna,
and reached Cesena, where we put up at the posting-house. We got up early
the next day and walked quietly to the house of George Franzia, a wealthy
peasant, who was owner of the treasure. It was only a quarter of a mile
from the c