The doors were thrown open. Contarino entered hastily, enveloped in
his cloak.
"Good evening, sweet gentlemen," said he, and threw his mantle
aside. And Memmo, Parozzi, and Falieri started back in horror.
"Good God!" they exclaimed, "what has happened? You are covered
with blood?"
"A trifle!" cried Contarino; "is that wine? quick, give me a goblet
of it, I expire with thirst."
Falieri (while he gives him a cup).--But, Contarino, you bleed?
Contarino.--You need not tell me that. I did not do it myself, I
promise you.
Parozzi.--First let us bind up your wounds, and then tell us what
has happened to you. It is as well that the servants should remain
ignorant of your adventure; I will be your surgeon myself.
Contarino.--What has happened to me, say you? Oh! a joke,
gentlemen, a mere joke. Here, Falieri, fill the bowl again.
Memmo.--I can scarcely breathe for terror.
Contarino.--Very possibly; neither should I, were I Memmo instead of
being Contarino. The wound bleeds plenteously it's true, but it's
by no means dangerous (he tore open his doublet, and uncovered his
bosom). There, look, comrades; you see it's only a cut of not more
than two inches deep.
Memmo (shuddering).--Mercy on me! the very sight of it makes my
blood run cold.
Parozzi brought ointments and linen, and bound up the wound of his
associate.
Contarino.--Old Horace is in the right. A philosopher can be
anything he pleases, a cobbler, a king, or a physician. Only
observe with what dignified address the philosopher Parozzi spreads
that plaster for me. I thank you, friend; that's enough: and now,
comrades, place yourselves in a circle round me, and listen to the
wonders which I am going to relate.
Falieri.--Proceed.
Contarino.--As soon as it was twilight, I stole out, wrapped in my
cloak, determined if possible to discover some of the banditti. I
knew not their persons, neither were they acquainted with mine. An
extravagant undertaking, perhaps, you will tell me; but I was
resolved to convince you that everything which a man DETERMINES to
do, may be done. I had some information respecting the rascals,
though it was but slight, and on these grounds I proceeded. I
happened by mere accident to stumble upon a gondolier, whose
appearance excited my curiosity. I fell into discourse with him. I
was soon convinced that he was not ignorant of the lurking-place of
the bravoes, and by means of some gold and many fair speeches, I at
length brought him to confess that though not regularly belonging to
the band, he had occasionally been employed by them. I immediately
made a bargain with him; he conducted me in his gondola through the
greatest part of Venice, sometimes right, sometimes left, till I
lost every idea as to the quarter of the town in which I found
myself. At length he insisted on binding my eyes with his
handkerchief, and I was compelled to submit. Half an hour elapsed
before the gondola stopped. He told me to descend, conducted me
through a couple of streets, and at length knocked at a door, where
he left me still blindfolded. The door was opened; my business was
inquired with great caution, and after some demur I was at length
admitted. The handkerchief was now withdrawn from my eyes, and I
found myself in a small chamber, surrounded by four men of not the
most creditable appearance, and a young woman, who (it seems) had
opened the door for me.