to his dead master has won him the unreserved trust of his living one.
My best wishes to you, dear friend. How I long for that quiet life we had when you were with us and for which you so richly compensated us! I fear that the goodtimes in Venice are over for me—if the same is not true of the Prince, then enough will have been gained. The element in which he now lives is not one in which he can be happy for long, unless sixteen years of experience deceives me. I wish you well.
Baron von F** to Count von O***
Second Letter
18th May
I should have realised that something good would come of our stay in Venice! It has saved someone’s life and I am reconciled to it. The Prince was recently being taken home by sedan from the Bucentauro late at night, accompanied by two servants, one of them Biondello. I do not know how but the chair that had been called for in haste broke and the Prince was obliged to make the rest of the journey on foot. Biondello led the way, which took them through dark, out-of-the-way streets, and, since it was near daybreak, the lamps were burning low or had gone out. They must have been walking for a quarter of an hour when Biondello discovered he had lost his way. The similarity of the bridges had deceived him and, instead of crossing over into San Marco, they found themselves in Sestiere di Castello. They were in one of the most remote backstreets with not a living soul for miles around; they had to turn around in order to get their bearings in a main street. They have only gone a few steps when in an alleyway not far from them a fearful cry rings out.
The Prince, unarmed as he was, tears a stick from the hands of one of the servants and, with the determined courage you are familiar with in him, makes for the areafrom where this cry was resounding. Three dreadful fellows are in the throes of striking down a fourth who, with his companion, is but weakly defending himself; the Prince arrives just in time to prevent the death blow. His and the servants’ shouts weaken the murderers’ resolve: they had so little expected to be surprised in such a remote spot that, after a few half-hearted thrusts of their daggers, they release their prey and turn tail. Nearly fainting and exhausted by the struggle, the wounded man collapses into the Prince’s arms; the man’s companion reveals to him that he has saved the life of the Marchese di Civitella, nephew of Cardinal A***i. Since the Marchese was losing a lot of blood, Biondello hurriedly performed the task of surgeon as best as he could and the Prince saw to it that he was taken to his uncle’s palace, which was nearby, accompanying him there in person. Here he left him quietly and without disclosing his identity.
However, a servant who had recognised Biondello gave him away. Immediately the next day the Cardinal appeared, an old acquaintance from the Bucentauro. The visit lasted an hour; when they emerged, the Cardinal was greatly moved. His eyes were filled with tears; the Prince, too, was touched. On the same evening the sick man was paid a visit, where the surgeon, moreoever, gave assurance of a speedy recovery. The cloak he had been wrapped in had made the dagger thrusts inaccurate and blunted their force. Since this event not a day has gone by without the Prince visiting the Cardinal at his house or receiving him at his, and a strong friendship is beginning to grow between him and the Cardinal’s family.
The Cardinal is a venerable sexagenarian of majesticappearance, full of gaiety and robust health. He is thought to be one of the richest prelates in the whole region of the republic. He is said to manage his immeasurable fortune in a very youthful way still and, by being sensibly frugal, not to disdain any of the joys of this world. This nephew is his sole heir, but reputed to be not always on the best of terms with him. As little as the old man is an enemy of pleasure, his nephew’s behaviour, they say, would nevertheless bring even the most
My best wishes to you, dear friend. How I long for that quiet life we had when you were with us and for which you so richly compensated us! I fear that the goodtimes in Venice are over for me—if the same is not true of the Prince, then enough will have been gained. The element in which he now lives is not one in which he can be happy for long, unless sixteen years of experience deceives me. I wish you well.
Baron von F** to Count von O***
Second Letter
18th May
I should have realised that something good would come of our stay in Venice! It has saved someone’s life and I am reconciled to it. The Prince was recently being taken home by sedan from the Bucentauro late at night, accompanied by two servants, one of them Biondello. I do not know how but the chair that had been called for in haste broke and the Prince was obliged to make the rest of the journey on foot. Biondello led the way, which took them through dark, out-of-the-way streets, and, since it was near daybreak, the lamps were burning low or had gone out. They must have been walking for a quarter of an hour when Biondello discovered he had lost his way. The similarity of the bridges had deceived him and, instead of crossing over into San Marco, they found themselves in Sestiere di Castello. They were in one of the most remote backstreets with not a living soul for miles around; they had to turn around in order to get their bearings in a main street. They have only gone a few steps when in an alleyway not far from them a fearful cry rings out.
The Prince, unarmed as he was, tears a stick from the hands of one of the servants and, with the determined courage you are familiar with in him, makes for the areafrom where this cry was resounding. Three dreadful fellows are in the throes of striking down a fourth who, with his companion, is but weakly defending himself; the Prince arrives just in time to prevent the death blow. His and the servants’ shouts weaken the murderers’ resolve: they had so little expected to be surprised in such a remote spot that, after a few half-hearted thrusts of their daggers, they release their prey and turn tail. Nearly fainting and exhausted by the struggle, the wounded man collapses into the Prince’s arms; the man’s companion reveals to him that he has saved the life of the Marchese di Civitella, nephew of Cardinal A***i. Since the Marchese was losing a lot of blood, Biondello hurriedly performed the task of surgeon as best as he could and the Prince saw to it that he was taken to his uncle’s palace, which was nearby, accompanying him there in person. Here he left him quietly and without disclosing his identity.
However, a servant who had recognised Biondello gave him away. Immediately the next day the Cardinal appeared, an old acquaintance from the Bucentauro. The visit lasted an hour; when they emerged, the Cardinal was greatly moved. His eyes were filled with tears; the Prince, too, was touched. On the same evening the sick man was paid a visit, where the surgeon, moreoever, gave assurance of a speedy recovery. The cloak he had been wrapped in had made the dagger thrusts inaccurate and blunted their force. Since this event not a day has gone by without the Prince visiting the Cardinal at his house or receiving him at his, and a strong friendship is beginning to grow between him and the Cardinal’s family.
The Cardinal is a venerable sexagenarian of majesticappearance, full of gaiety and robust health. He is thought to be one of the richest prelates in the whole region of the republic. He is said to manage his immeasurable fortune in a very youthful way still and, by being sensibly frugal, not to disdain any of the joys of this world. This nephew is his sole heir, but reputed to be not always on the best of terms with him. As little as the old man is an enemy of pleasure, his nephew’s behaviour, they say, would nevertheless bring even the most
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