I have never left Venice with so much regret as I did then, for I had some pleasant intrigues on hand, and I was very lucky at cards.  My three friends assured me that, within one year at the furthest, the cases against me would be forgotten, and in Venice, when public opinion has forgotten anything, it can be easily arranged.

I left Venice in the evening and the next day I slept at Verona.  Two days afterwards I reached Mantua.  I was alone, with plenty of clothes and jewels, without letters of introduction, but with a well-filled purse, enjoying excellent health and my twenty-three years.

In Mantua I ordered an excellent dinner, the very first thing one ought to do at a large hotel, and after dinner I went out for a walk.  In the evening, after I had seen the coffee-houses and the places of resort, I went to the theatre, and I was delighted to see Marina appear on the stage as a comic dancer, amid the greatest applause, which she deserved, for she danced beautifully.  She was tall, handsome, very well made and very graceful.  I immediately resolved on renewing my acquaintance with her, if she happened to be free, and after the opera I engaged a boy to take me to her house.  She had just sat down to supper with someone, but the moment she saw me she threw her napkin down and flew to my arms.  I returned her kisses, judging by her warmth that her guest was a man of no consequence.

The servant, without waiting for orders, had already laid a plate for me, and Marina invited me to sit down near her.  I felt vexed, because the aforesaid individual had not risen to salute me, and before I accepted Marina’s invitation I asked her who the gentleman was, begging her to introduce me.

“This gentleman,” she said, “is Count Celi, of Rome; he is my lover.”

“I congratulate you,” I said to her, and turning towards the so-called count, “Sir,” I added, “do not be angry at our mutual affection, Marina is my daughter.”

“She is a prostitute.”

“True,” said Marina, “and you can believe the count, for he is my procurer.”

At those words, the brute threw his knife at her face, but she avoided it by running away.  The scoundrel followed her, but I drew my sword, and said,

“Stop, or you are a dead man.”

I immediately asked Marina to order her servant to light me out, but she hastily put a cloak on, and taking my arm she entreated me to take her with me.

“With pleasure,” I said.

The count then invited me to meet him alone, on the following day, at the Casino of Pomi, to hear what he had to say.

“Very well, sir, at four in the afternoon,” I answered.

I took Marina to my inn, where I lodged her in the room adjoining mine, and we sat down to supper.

Marina, seeing that I was thoughtful, said,

“Are you sorry to have saved me from the rage of that brute?”

“No, I am glad to have done so, but tell me truly who and what he is.”