a great leaning towards pleasure and the
exercise of satire. He laughed at the police and the cheated husbands,
indulged in Venus and Bacchus to excess, sacrificed to the god of
pederasty, and gamed incessantly. He was now hideously ugly, but when I
knew him first he was a very Antinous.

He told me the following story:

"A club of young rakes, of whom I was one, had a casino at the Zuecca; we
passed many a pleasant hour there without hurting anyone. Some one
imagined that these meetings were the scenes of unlawful pleasures, the
engines of the law were secretly directed against us, and the casino was
shut up, and we were ordered to be arrested. All escaped except myself
and a man named Branzandi. We had to wait for our unjust sentence for two
years, but at last it appeared. My wretched fellow was condemned to lose
his head, and afterwards to be burnt, while I was sentenced to ten years'
imprisonment 'in carcere duro'. In 1765 I was set free, and went to Padua
hoping to live in peace, but my persecutors gave me no rest, and I was
accused of the same crime. I would not wait for the storm to burst, so I
fled to Rome, and two years afterwards the Council of Ten condemned me to
perpetual banishment.

"I might bear this if I had the wherewithal to live, but a brother-in-law
of mine has possessed himself of all I have, and the unjust Tribunal
winks at his misdeeds.

"A Roman attorney made me an offer of an annuity of two pawls a day on
the condition that I should renounce all claims on my estate. I refused
this iniquitous condition, and left Rome to come here and turn hermit. I
have followed this sorry trade for two years, and can bear it no more."

"Go back to Rome; you can live on two pawls a day."

"I would rather die."

I pitied him sincerely, and said that though I was not a rich man he was
welcome to dine every day at my expense while I remained in Naples, and I
gave him a sequin.

Two or three days later my man told me that the poor wretch had committed
suicide.

In his room were found five numbers, which he bequeathed to Medini and
myself out of gratitude for our kindness to him. These five numbers were
very profitable to the Lottery of Naples, for everyone, myself excepted,
rushed to get them. Not a single one proved a winning number, but the
popular belief that numbers given by a man before he commits suicide are
infallible is too deeply rooted among the Neapolitans to be destroyed by
such a misadventure