After our meal, the count, who had heard from me some portion of my history, thought that my confidence called for a return on his part, and he began:  “I am the Count de Bonafede.  In my early days I served under Prince Eugene, but I gave up the army, and entered on a civil career in Austria.  I had to fly from Austria and take refuge in Bavaria in consequence of an unfortunate duel.  In Munich I made the acquaintance of a young lady belonging to a noble family; I eloped with her and brought her to Venice, where we were married.  I have now been twenty years in Venice.  I have six children, and everybody knows me.  About a week ago I sent my servant to the postoffice for my letters, but they were refused him because he had not any money to pay the postage.  I went myself, but the clerk would not deliver me my letters, although I assured him that I would pay for them the next time.  This made me angry, and I called upon the Baron de Taxis, the postmaster, and complained of the clerk, but he answered very rudely that the clerk had simply obeyed his orders, and that my letters would only be delivered on payment of the postage.  I felt very indignant, but as I was in his house I controlled my anger, went home, and wrote a note to him asking him to give me satisfaction for his rudeness, telling him that I would never go out without my sword, and that I would force him to fight whenever and wherever I should meet him.  I never came across him, but yesterday I was accosted by the secretary of the inquisitors, who told me that I must forget the baron’s rude conduct, and go under the guidance of an officer whom he pointed out to me, to imprison myself for a week in this fortress.  I shall thus have the pleasure of spending that time with you.”

I told him that I had been free for the last twenty-four hours, but that to shew my gratitude for his friendly confidence I would feel honoured if he would allow me to keep him company.  As I had already engaged myself with the major, this was only a polite falsehood.

In the afternoon I happened to be with him on the tower of the fort, and pointed out a gondola advancing towards the lower gate; he took his spy-glass and told me that it was his wife and daughter coming to see him.  We went to meet the ladies, one of whom might once have been worth the trouble of an elopement; the other, a young person between fourteen and sixteen, struck me as a beauty of a new style.  Her hair was of a beautiful light auburn, her eyes were blue and very fine, her nose a Roman, and her pretty mouth, half-open and laughing, exposed a set of teeth as white as her complexion, although a beautiful rosy tint somewhat veiled the whiteness of the last.  Her figure was so slight that it seemed out of nature, but her perfectly-formed breast appeared an altar on which the god of love would have delighted to breathe the sweetest incense.  This splendid chest was, however, not yet well furnished, but in my imagination I gave her all the embonpoint which might have been desired, and I was so pleased that I could not take my looks from her.  I met her eyes, and her laughing countenance seemed to say to me:  “Only wait for two years, at the utmost, and all that your imagination is now creating will then exist in reality.”