ung
fellow named Von Rosenau, whom I had known slightly in Vienna the
previous winter. I returned his greeting cordially, for I always like
to associate as much as possible with foreigners when I am abroad,
and little did I foresee into what trouble this fair-haired,
innocent-looking youth was destined to lead me.

I asked him how he liked Venice, and he answered laughingly that he was
not there from choice. "I am in disgrace," he explained. "I am always in
disgrace, only this time it is rather worse than usual. Do you remember
my father, the general? No? Perhaps he was not in Vienna when you were
there. He is a soldier of the old school, and manages his family as they
tell me he used to manage his regiment in former years, boasting that he
never allowed a breach of discipline to pass unpunished, and never will.
Last year I exceeded my allowance, and the colonel got orders to stop
my leave; this year I borrowed from the Jews, the whole thing was found
out, and I was removed from the cavalry, and put into a Croat regiment
under orders for Venice. Next year will probably see me enrolled in the
police; and so it will go on, I suppose, till some fine morning I
shall find myself driving a two-horse yellow diligence in the wilds
of Carinthia, and blowing a horn to let the villagers know that the
imperial and royal mail is approaching."

After a little more conversation we separated, but only to meet again,
that same evening, on the Piazza San Marco, whither I had wandered to
listen to the band after dinner, and where I found Von Rosenau seated
with a number of his brother officers in front of the principal cafe.
These gentlemen, to whom I was presently introduced, were unanimous in
complaining of their present quarters. Venice, they said, might be all
very well for artists and travellers; but viewed as a garrison it was
the dullest of places. There were no amusements, there was no sport, and
just now no society; for the Italians were in one of their periodical
fits of sulks, and would not speak to, or look at, a German if they
could possibly avoid it. "They will not even show themselves when
our band is playing," said one of the officers, pointing toward the
well-nigh empty piazza. "As for the ladies, it is reported that if one
of them is seen speaking to an Austrian, she is either assassinated or
sent off to spend the rest of her days in a convent. At all events, it
is certain that we have none of us any successes to boast