And so he dived in foul waters, seeking that sorry oyster-shell, Oblivion.
It is not my business to paint at full length the scenes of coarse vice in which this unhappy young man now played a part. But it is my business to impress the broad truth, that he was a rake, a debauchee, and a drunkard, and one of the wildest, loosest, and wickedest young men in Rome.
They are no lovers of truth, nor of mankind, who conceal or slur the wickedness of the good, and so by their want of candour rob despondent sinners of hope.
Enough, the man was not born to do things by halves. And he was not vicious by halves.
His humble female friends often gossiped about him. His old landlady told Teresa he was going to the bad, and prayed her to try and find out where he was.
Teresa told her husband Lodovico his sad story, and bade him look about and see if he could discover the young man's present abode. “Shouldst remember his face, Lodovico mio?”
“Teresa, a man in my way of life never forgets a face, least of all a benefactor's. But thou knowest I seldom go abroad by daylight.”
Teresa sighed. “And how long is it to be so, Lodovico?”
“Till some cavalier passes his sword through me. They will not let a poor fellow like me take to any honest trade.”
Pietro Vanucci was one of those who bear prosperity worse than adversity.