all my means were gone.  The only comfort I had, and a sorry one truly, was to hear the banker himself call me—­perhaps sarcastically—­a fine player, every time I lost a large stake.  My misery was at its height, when new life was infused in me by the booming of the guns fired in honour of the arrival of the bailo.  He was on board the Europa, a frigate of seventy-two guns, and he had taken only eight days to sail from Venice to Corfu.  The moment he cast anchor, the bailo hoisted his flag of captain-general of the Venetian navy, and the proveditore hauled down his own colours.  The Republic of Venice has not on the sea any authority greater than that of Bailo to the Porte.  The Chevalier Venier had with him a distinguished and brilliant suite; Count Annibal Gambera, Count Charles Zenobio, both Venetian noblemen of the first class, and the Marquis d’Anchotti of Bressan, accompanied him to Constantinople for their own amusement.  The bailo remained a week in Corfu, and all the naval authorities entertained him and his suite in turn, so that there was a constant succession of balls and suppers.  When I presented myself to his excellency, he informed me that he had already spoken to the proveditore, who had granted me a furlough of six months to enable me to accompany him to Constantinople as his adjutant; and as soon as the official document for my furlough had been delivered to me, I sent my small stock of worldly goods on board the Europa, and we weighed anchor early the next day.

We sailed with a favourable wind which remained steady and brought us in six days to Cerigo, where we stopped to take in some water.  Feeling some curiosity to visit the ancient Cythera, I went on shore with the sailors on duty, but it would have been better for me if I had remained on board, for in Cerigo I made a bad acquaintance.  I was accompanied by the captain of marines.

The moment we set foot on shore, two men, very poorly dressed and of unprepossessing appearance, came to us and begged for assistance.  I asked them who they were, and one, quicker than the other, answered;

“We are sentenced to live, and perhaps to die, in this island by the despotism of the Council of Ten.  There are forty others as unfortunate as ourselves, and we are all born subjects of the Republic.

“The crime of which we have been accused, which is not considered a crime anywhere, is that we were in the habit of living with our mistresses, without being jealous of our friends, when, finding our ladies handsome, they obtained their favours with our ready consent.  As we were not rich, we felt no remorse in availing ourselves of the generosity of our friends in such cases, but it was said that we were carrying on an illicit trade, and we have been sent to this place, where we receive every day ten sous in ‘moneta lunga’.  We are called ‘mangia-mayroni’, and are worse off than galley slaves, for we are dying of ennui, and we are often starving without knowing how to stay our hunger.  My name is Don Antonio Pocchini, I am of a noble Paduan family, and my mother belongs to the illustrious family of Campo San-Piero.”