for I might be surprised, having to do several days’ work before finishing the hole which would cost Lawrence his life.  Should the thought of gaining my liberty at the expense of a fellow-creature have made me desist?  I should have still persisted if my escape had meant death to the whole body of Venetian guards, and even to the Inquisitors themselves.  Can the love of country, all holy though it be, prevail in the heart of the man whose country is oppressing him?

My good humour did not prevent my companion having some bad quarters of an hour.  He was in love with Madame Alessandria, who had been a singer, and was either the mistress or the wife of his friend Martinengo; and he should have deemed himself happy, but the happier a lover is, so much the more his unhappiness when he is snatched from the beloved object.  He sighed, wept, and declared that he loved a woman in whom all the noble virtues were contained.  I compassionated him, and took care not to comfort him by saying that love is a mere trifle—­a cold piece of comfort given to lovers by fools, and, moreover, it is not true that love is a mere trifle.

The week I had mentioned as the probable term of his imprisonment passed quickly enough, and I lost my friend, but did not waste my time by mourning for him; he was set free, and I was content.  I did not beg him to be discreet, for the least doubt on that score would have wounded his noble spirit.  During the week he was with me he only ate soup and fruit, taking a little Canary wine.  It was I who made good cheer in his stead and greatly to his delight.  Before he left we swore eternal friendship.

The next day Lawrence gave me an account of my money, and on finding that I had a balance of four sequins I gave them to him, telling him it was a present from me to his wife.  I did not tell him that it was for the rent of my lamp, but he was free to think so if he chose.  Again betaking myself to my work, and toiling without cessation, on the 23rd of August I saw it finished.  This delay was caused by an inevitable accident.  As I was hollowing out the last plank, I put my eye to a little hole, through which I ought to have seen the hall of the Inquisitors-in fact, I did see it, but I saw also at one side of the hole a surface about eight inches thick.  It was, as I had feared all the time it would be, one of the beams which kept up the ceiling.  I was thus compelled to enlarge my hole on the other side, for the beam would have made it so narrow that a man of my size could never have got through.  I increased the hole, therefore, by a fourth, working—­between fear and hope, for it was possible that the space between two of the beams would not be large enough.  After I had finished, a second little hole assured me that God had blessed my labour.  I then carefully stopped up the two small holes to prevent anything falling down into the hall, and also lest a ray from my lamp should be perceived, for this would have discovered all and ruined me.