“The affair of my attempted assassination will, no doubt, be considered separately.

“Even if the rascal is dead, I do not see what they can do to me.

“On the other hand, my landlord’s advice to fly from Barcelona looks ominous; what if the assassins received their orders from some person high in authority?

“It is possible that Ricla may have vowed my ruin, but it does not seem probable to me.

“Would it have been wise to follow the landlord’s advice?

“Possibly, but I do not think so; my honour would have suffered, and I might have been caught and laid up in some horrid dungeon, whereas for a prison I am comfortable enough here.

“In three or four days the examination of my papers will have been completed, and as there is nothing in them likely to be offensive to the powers that be, they will be returned to me with my liberty, which will taste all the sweeter for this short deprivation.

“As for my passports they all speak in my favour.

“I cannot think that the all-powerful hand of the viceroy could have directed the assassin’s sword; it would be a dishonour to him, and if it were so, he would not be treating me so kindly now.  If it were his doing, he must have heard directly that the blow had failed, and in that case I do not think he would have arrested me this morning.

“Shall I write to Nina?  Will writing be allowed here?”

As I was puzzling my brains with these reflections, stretched on my bed (for I had no chair), I heard some disturbance, and on opening my window I saw, to my great astonishment, Passano being brought into the prison by a corporal and two soldiers.  As he was going in, the rascal looked up and saw me, and began to laugh.

“Alas!” I said to myself, “here is fresh food for conjecture.  The fellow told Nina’s sister that I should be sorry for what I had done.  He must have directed some fearful calumny against me, and they are imprisoning him so as to be sure of his evidence.”

On reflection, I was well pleased at the turn affairs had taken.

An excellent dinner was set before me, but I had no chair or table.  The deficiency was remedied by the soldier who was in charge of me for the consideration of a duro.

Prisoners were not allowed to have pen and ink without special permission; but paper and pencils were not included under this regulation, so my guard got them for me, together with candles and candlesticks, and I proceeded to kill time by making geometrical calculations.  I made the obliging soldier sup with me, and he promised to commend me to one of his comrades who would serve me well.  The guard was relieved at eleven.

On the fourth day the officer of the guard came to me with a distressed look, and told me that he had the disagreeable duty of giving me some very bad news.

“What is that, sir?”

“I have received orders to transfer you to the bottom of the tower.”