women and men who can’t swim have of deep or even of shallow water, (and the Venetians in particular, though they live on the waves,) and that it was also night, and dark, and very cold, it shows that she had a devilish spirit of some sort within her.  They had got her out without much difficulty or damage, excepting the salt water she had swallowed, and the wetting she had undergone.

“I foresaw her intention to refix herself, and sent for a surgeon, enquiring how many hours it would require to restore her from her agitation; and he named the time.  I then said, ’I give you that time, and more if you require it; but at the expiration of this prescribed period, if she does not leave the house, I will.’

“All my people were consternated.  They had always been frightened at her, and were now paralysed:  they wanted me to apply to the police, to guard myself, &c. &c. like a pack of snivelling servile boobies as they were.  I did nothing of the kind, thinking that I might as well end that way as another; besides, I had been used to savage women, and knew their ways.

“I had her sent home quietly after her recovery, and never saw her since, except twice at the opera, at a distance amongst the audience.  She made many attempts to return, but no more violent ones.  And this is the story of Margarita Cogni, as far as it relates to me.

     “I forgot to mention that she was very devout, and would cross
     herself if she heard the prayer time strike.

“She was quick in reply; as, for instance—­One day when she had made me very angry with beating somebody or other, I called her a cow (cow, in Italian, is a sad affront).  I called her ‘Vacca.’  She turned round, courtesied, and answered, ’Vacca tua, ‘celenza’ (i.e. eccelenza). ‘Your cow, please your Excellency.’  In short, she was, as I said before, a very fine animal, of considerable beauty and energy, with many good and several amusing qualities, but wild as a witch and fierce as a demon.  She used to boast publicly of her ascendency over me, contrasting it with that of other women, and assigning for it sundry reasons.  True it was, that they all tried to get her away, and no one succeeded till her own absurdity helped them.

“I omitted to tell you her answer, when I reproached her for snatching Madame Contarini’s mask at the Cavalchina.  I represented to her that she was a lady of high birth, ‘una Dama,’ &c.  She answered, ’Se ella e dama mi (io) son Veneziana;’—­’If she is a lady, I am a Venetian.’  This would have been fine a hundred years ago, the pride of the nation rising up against the pride of aristocracy:  but, alas!  Venice, and her people, and her nobles, are alike returning fast to the ocean; and where there is no independence, there can be no real self-respect.  I believe that I mistook or mis-stated one of her phrases in my letter; it should have been—­’Can’ della Madonna cosa vus’ tu? esto non e tempo per andar’ a Lido?’”

[Footnote 23:  The following are extracts from a letter of Shelley’s to a friend at this time.