Cornelia was beautiful to a marvel; she had been left under the guardianship of her brother Lorenzo Bentivoglio, a brave and honourable gentleman.  They were orphans, but inheritors of considerable wealth—­and wealth is a great alleviation of the evils of the orphan state.  Cornelia lived in complete seclusion, and her brother guarded her with unwearied solicitude.  The lady neither showed herself on any occasion, nor would her brother consent that any one should see her; but this very fact inspired Don Juan and Don Antonio with the most lively desire to behold her face, were it only at church.  Yet all the pains they took for that purpose proved vain, and the wishes they had felt on the subject gradually diminished, as the attempt appeared more and more hopeless.  Thus, devoted to their studies, and varying these with such amusements as are permitted to their age, the young men passed a life as cheerful as it was honourable, rarely going out at night, but when they did so, it was always together and well armed.

One evening, however, when Don Juan was preparing to go out, Don Antonio expressed his desire to remain at home for a short time, to repeat certain orisons:  but he requested Don Juan to go without him, and promised to follow him.

“Why should I go out to wait for you?” said Don Juan.  “I will stay; if you do not go out at all to-night, it will be of very little consequence.”  “By no means shall you stay,” returned Don Antonio:  “go and take the air; I will be with you almost immediately, if you take the usual way.”

“Well, do as you please,” said Don Juan:  “if you come you will find me on our usual beat.”  With these words Don Juan left the house.

The night was dark, and the hour about eleven.  Don Juan passed through two or three streets, but finding himself alone, and with no one to speak to, he determined to return home.  He began to retrace his steps accordingly; and was passing through a street, the houses of which had marble porticoes, when he heard some one call out, “Hist! hist!” from one of the doors.  The darkness of the night, and the shadow cast by the colonnade, did not permit him to see the whisperer; but he stopped at once, and listened attentively.  He saw a door partially opened, approached it, and heard these words uttered in a low voice, “Is it you, Fabio?” Don Juan, on the spur of the moment, replied, “Yes!” “Take it, then,” returned the voice, “take it, and place it in security; but return instantly, for the matter presses.”  Don Juan put out his hand in the dark, and encountered a packet.  Proceeding to take hold of it, he found that it required both hands; instinctively he extended the second, but had scarcely done so before the portal was closed, and he found himself again alone in the street, loaded with, he knew not what.