It was the clock of St. Mark’s striking midnight, which, by a violent shock, drew me out of the state of perplexity I had fallen into.  The clock reminded me that the day just beginning was All Saints’ Day—­the day of my patron saint (at least if I had one)—­and the prophecy of my confessor came into my mind.  But I confess that what chiefly strengthened me, both bodily and mentally, was the profane oracle of my beloved Ariosto:  ‘Fra il fin d’ottobre, a il capo di novembre’.

The chime seemed to me a speaking talisman, commanding me to be up and doing,—­and—­promising me the victory.  Lying on my belly I stretched my head down towards the grating, and pushing my pike into the sash which held it I resolved to take it out in a piece.  In a quarter of an hour I succeeded, and held the whole grate in my hands,—­and putting it on one side I easily broke the glass window, though wounding my left hand.

With the aid of my pike, using it as I had done before, I regained the ridge of the roof, and went back to the spot where I had left Balbi.  I found him enraged and despairing, and he abused me heartily for having left him for so long.  He assured me that he was only waiting for it to get light to return to the prison.

“What did you think had become of me?”

“I thought you must have fallen over.”

“And you can find no better way than abuse to express the joy you ought to feel at seeing me again?”

“What have you been doing all this time?”

“Follow me, and you shall see.”

I took up my packets again and made my way towards the window.  As soon as were opposite to it I told Balbi what I had done, and asked him if he could think of any way of getting into the loft.  For one it was easy enough, for the other could lower him by the rope; but I could not discover how the second of us was to get down afterwards, as there was nothing to which the rope could be fastened.  If I let myself fall I might break my arms and legs, for I did not know the distance between the window and the floor of the room.  To this chain of reasoning uttered in the friendliest possible tone, the brute replied thus: 

“You let me down, and when I have got to the bottom you will have plenty of time to think how you are going to follow me.”

I confess that my first indignant impulse was to drive my pike into his throat.  My good genius stayed my arm, and I uttered not a word in reproach of his base selfishness.  On the contrary, I straightway untied my bundle of rope and bound him strongly under the elbows, and making him lie flat down I lowered him feet foremost on to the roof of the dormer-window.  When he got there I told him to lower himself into the window as far as his hips, supporting himself by holding his elbows against the sides of the window.  As soon as he had done so, I slid down the roof as before, and lying down on the dormer-roof with a firm grasp of the rope I told the monk not to be afraid