erformance, and saw to my surprise that the chief
actor was a Venetian, and a fellow-student of mine, twenty years before,
at St. Cyprian's College. His name was Bassi, and like myself he had
given up the priesthood. Fortune had made an actor of him, and he looked
wretched enough, while I, the adventurer, had a prosperous air.

I felt curious to hear his adventures, and I was also actuated by that
feeling of kindliness which draws one towards the companions of one's
youthful and especially one's school days, so I went to the back as soon
as the curtain fell. He recognized me directly, gave a joyful cry, and
after he had embraced me he introduced me to his wife, the woman who had
called on me, and to his daughter, a girl of thirteen or fourteen, whose
dancing had delighted me. He did not stop here, but turning to his mates,
of whom he was chief, introduced me to them as his best friend. These
worthy people, seeing me dressed like a lord, with a cross on my breast,
took me for a cosmopolitan charlatan who was expected at Augsburg, and
Bassi, strange to say, did not undeceive them. When the company had taken
off its stage rags and put on its everyday rags, Bassi's ugly wife took
me by the arm and said I must come and sup with her. I let myself be led,
and we soon got to just the kind of room I had imagined. It was a huge
room on the ground floor, which served for kitchen, dining-room, and
bedroom all at once. In the middle stood a long table, part of which was
covered with a cloth which looked as if it had been in use for a month,
and at the other end of the room somebody was washing certain earthenware
dishes in a dirty pan. This den was lighted by one candle stuck in the
neck of a broken bottle, and as there were no snuffers Bassi's wife
snuffed it cleverly with her finger and thumb, wiping her hand on the
table-cloth after throwing the burnt wick on the floor. An actor with
long moustaches, who played the villain in the various pieces, served an
enormous dish of hashed-up meat, swimming in a sea of dirty water
dignified with the name of sauce; and the hungry family proceeded to tear
pieces of bread off the loaf with their fingers or teeth, and then to dip
them in the dish; but as all did the same no one had a right to be
disgusted. A large pot of ale passed from hand to hand, and with all this
misery mirth displayed itself on every countenance, and I had to ask
myself what is happiness. For a second course there was a dis