Contarino.—We stood as if we had been petrified; not a soul could stir a finger. “In the name of the Doge and the Republic,” cried Flodoardo, “yield yourselves and deliver your arms.” “The devil shall yield himself sooner than we,” exclaimed one of the banditti, and forced a sword from one of the officers. The others snatched their muskets from the walls; and as for me, my first care was to extinguish the lamp so that we could not tell friends from foes. But still the confounded moonshine gleamed through the window-shutters, and shed a partial light through the room. “Look to yourself, Contarino,” thought I; “if you are found here, you will be hanged for company,” and I drew my sword and made a plunge at Flodoardo; but, however well intended, my thrust was foiled by his sabre, which he whirled around with the rapidity of lightning. I fought like a madman, but all my skill was without effect on this occasion, and before I was aware of it, Flodoardo ripped open my bosom. I felt myself wounded, and sprang back. At that moment two pistols were fired, and the flash discovered to me a small side door, which they had neglected to beset. Through this I stole unperceived into the adjoining chamber, burst open the grated window, sprang below unhurt, crossed a courtyard, climbed two or three garden walls, gained the canal, where a gondola fortunately was waiting, persuaded the boatman to convey me with all speed to the Place of St. Mark, and thence hastened hither, astonished to find myself still alive. There’s an infernal adventure for you.
Parozzi.—I shall go mad.
Falieri.—Everything we design is counteracted; the more trouble we give ourselves, the further we are from the goal.
Memmo.—I confess it seems to me as if Heaven gave us warning to desist. How say you?
Contarino.—Pshaw, these are trifles! Such accidents should only serve to sharpen our wits. The more obstacles I encounter, the firmer is my resolution to surmount them.
Falieri.—Do the banditti know who you are?
Contarino.—No; they are not only ignorant of my name, but suppose me to be a mere instrument of some powerful man, who has been injured by the ducal confederates.
Memmo.—Well, Contarino, in my mind you should thank Heaven that you have escaped so well.
Falieri.—But since he is an absolute stranger in Venice, how could Flodoardo discover the lurking place of the banditti?
Contarino.—I know not; probably by mere accident like myself, but by the Power that made me, he shall pay dearly for this wound.