Virgin,’ I continued, addressing the image, ‘I swear that if I hear
Sorodaci utter a word, or make a single movement, I will strangle him
like a dog.’ I reckoned that this threat would have at least as much
effect upon him as the oath. I then gave him something to eat, and
ordered him to go to bed; and as soon as he had fallen asleep I sat down
and wrote for a couple of hours, informing Balbi that all was ready, and
that he had nothing to do to reach me but to revisit the roof of my cell
and break the planks of the ceiling. I added that we should leave on the
31st of October, and that there would be four of us, counting his
companion and mine.
“It was the 28th. The next day the monk wrote to say that the passage
between the two cells was quite ready, and that the breaking through the
last plank would be an affair of but four or five minutes. Sorodaci,
faithful to his sworn promise, pretended to be asleep, and Laurent did
not speak to him. But I did not keep my eyes off him for a moment, and I
really believe that if he had uttered a word I should have killed him on
the spot. I devoted the rest of the day to the delivery of a series of
sublime discourses on the recent remarkable visitation, and I was
pleased to see that every word I spoke increased the fanatical terror
with which he regarded me. I took care to ply him well with wine, as
well as with mystifying influences of a religious nature, and I did not
leave him to himself until I saw him fairly overpowered with drunkenness
and sleep. For one moment, indeed, he had a feeble glimmering of common
sense, for he observed that it ought not to take an angel three hours to
break into a cell. ‘The ways of heaven,’ I replied, ‘are
incomprehensible to mortals, and this heavenly messenger clearly is not
working in his celestial capacity, or otherwise he could force a way
through the ceiling with a single breath. He works in his human
capacity, doubtless out of pity for us, who could not otherwise endure
the sight of his glory.’
“On the next day Laurent asked after his health, and he replied without
raising his head. It was the same on succeeding days, till at length we
had our last interview with our gaoler on the 31st. I gave him the book
as usual, containing a message for Balbi to come at half-past nine in
the morning, and break through the ceiling. I had no apprehension that
any accident would mar the execution of our plot, for I had heard from
Laurent that the inquisitors and the secretary had already gone into the
country. There was no danger of my again having a companion thrust upon
me at the eleventh hour, and I had found out how to manage the wretch
whose coming had once threatened to prove the downfall of all my hopes.
“When Laurent left I told Sorodaci that we might now expect the angel
very shortly. ‘He will bring a pair of scissors with him,’ I added, ‘and
it will be your office to clip his beard and mine.’
“‘Has the angel a beard then?’ inquired the simpleton.
“‘Yes, as you will see. When you have done this, we shall all leave the
cell and break through the roof of the palace, whence we shall drop down
into the great square of St. Mark.’
“He did not reply, but went on eating his breakfast. As for me, I could
touch nothing at all, for my anxiety as to the success of my enterprise
deprived me of all appetite, as it had made me quite insensible to
fatigue.
“The appointed hour struck, and the angel was heard. Sorodaci was about
to prostrate himself, but I told him that was no longer necessary. In
less than three minutes the ceiling was broken through, and Balbi rolled
down into my arms. ‘And now,’ said I, ‘your work is done, and mine
begins.’ We embraced, and he gave me back
[Illustration: Balbi rolled down into my arms.]
my crowbar and placed the scissors in my hands. I told Sorodaci to cut
our beards; but I could not help laughing at the sight of the wretch,
with his mouth wide open, staring at the angel, who bore so much
resemblance to a supernatural being of another kind. But astonished and
terrified as he was, he did his office with the greatest ease.
“Anxious to reconnoitre our position, I told Balbi to stay with the spy
(for I dared not leave Sorodaci alone) while I visited the cell where
the count was confined. I found it without difficulty, and embraced a
noble looking old man who, however, seemed scarcely strong enough to
support the fatigues of our meditated flight. He asked me what my plan
was, and observed that he feared I was going to work rather recklessly.
‘I must go on,’ I replied, ‘until I find either liberty or death.’ ‘If
you think,’ said he, ‘to break through the roof and then to drop into
the courtyard, I don’t see how you can possibly succeed, as you are
without wings; and I, at least, dare not venture to accompany you; but I
will stay here and pray to Heaven on your behalf.’
“I left him to look at the palace roof, drawing as near as I could to
the walls of the granary. In tapping the woodwork of the roof with my
crowbar, I discovered to my great satisfaction that it was quite rotten.
The planks crumbled to dust the moment they were touched. Judging that I
could easily make an opening large enough for my requirements in about
an hour, I returned to my cell, and spent four hours in cutting up my
bedclothes and every piece of drapery I could find there, and making a
rope of the shreds. I took care to make the knots very strong, and to
test each one as I went on. When the rope was finished I made a bundle
of my coat, my cloak, and a few other things, and went with the monk
and Sorodaci to the count’s cell. Sorodaci’s air of utter bewilderment
would have made the dullest fellow smile. I had long since thrown off
the inconvenient mask of the visionary which I had at first assumed, and
I could see that he felt he had been tricked, though it must still have
been a matter of wonder to him how I could have contrived to ensure the
visits of my ‘angel’ at the appointed hours. He listened with great
attention to the count’s arguments against our plan of escape, and he
seemed to be meditating an excuse for staying behind. Meanwhile, I told
the monk to get his bundle ready while I went to make the hole in the
roof.
“At about seven o’clock I had finished this part of the work. I pierced
a hole through the wood without the least difficulty, but the leaden
coating of the planks did not yield so easily, and I was obliged to
obtain the assistance of the monk before I could wrench it off. I then
put my head through the opening, and felt for a few moments, with a
delight that I can hardly express, that I was breathing the air of
liberty. But unfortunately the moon was at the full, and I saw myself
doomed to wait for many weary hours before I could venture to move. The
night was a superb one; all the best society in Venice was taking the
air in the square of St. Mark, but I dared not stand on the roof, for my
shadow would have betrayed me to the people below, I therefore told my
companions firmly that we could not leave before ten o’clock at the
earliest, and as the sun did not rise before half-past six, this would
give us some eight hours and a half of perfect darkness,--more by far
than we were likely to require.
“I accordingly suggested to Balbi that we might while away part of the
time in conversation with the count, and I sent him at once--before
leaving the roof myself--to borrow thirty sequins of the old man, for I
knew that money would now be as indispensable to the success of our plan
as the crowbar had formerly been. Balbi went away, but soon returned
with the message that the count would like to see me alone. The poor old
nobleman began to tell me, with his usual mildness, that money would not
help me to escape, that in fact he had no money, that his family was a
large one, and that if I perished, anything he might give me would be
lost. He ended by giving me two sequins on condition that I should
return them if I finally decided on abandoning my perilous design. His
last words showed how little he knew me, for I was fully prepared to die
rather than remain where I was.
“I called my companions together, and when we had placed our bundles
near the hole, we passed some hours in talking of the difficulties we
had already surmounted, and of those that still lay before us. The first
proof that Balbi gave me of the nobleness of his character was to repeat
at least half a dozen times that I had deceived him in saying my plan
was complete, and that if he had foreseen the real state of my
preparations, he would never have helped me to leave my cell.
“The count too employed all his eloquence to dissuade me from the
attempt. ‘The roof, covered as it is with lead,’ said he, ‘is so steep
that you cannot hope to keep your footing on it.’ (This was totally
false, for the slope is unusually gentle.) ‘And on which side do you
propose to drop? Surely not on that looking towards the piazzetta, for
you would be seen at once. You cannot take the side nearest the church,
for that looks into a high walled court; and to drop on the side nearest
the arsenal, would be to fall right into the hands of the guards, who
are constantly making their rounds.’
“This kind of talking made my blood boil, though I forced myself to
listen to it with patience. The monk’s reproaches in particular,
incensed me greatly, but I felt that my position was a delicate one. I
was dealing with a coward who might at any time discover that he was not
desperate enough to set death at defiance, and without him I knew it
would be impossible to proceed. I, therefore, did violence to my
feelings, and mildly assured both my fellow-prisoners, that I felt sure
of success though I could not give them all the details of my plan.
While thus engaged I from time to time put forth my hand to ascertain if
Sorodaci was still near me, and I laughed inwardly at what I guessed
would be his secret meditations now that he knew I had deceived him. At
ten o’clock I told him to go and find out in what quarter the moon lay.
He obeyed, and in a short time came back to say that in a quarter of an
hour it would be quite dark, and that a thick fog was falling, which
threatened to add a new danger to our attempted flight. ‘Never mind
that,’ I replied, ‘but take your bundle and be ready to follow me.’ At
these words, what was my surprise to find Sorodaci at my feet, seizing
my hands, and imploring me, in a voice broken by sobs, not to lead him
to certain death. ‘I shall be sure to fall into the canal,’ he
whimpered, ‘and I cannot be of the least use in the world to you. Alas,
leave me here, and I will pass the night in praying to St. Francis for
your success. You may kill me if you like, but I will never follow you.’
The fool did not know how exactly he anticipated my wishes. ‘You are
right,’ I replied, ‘and you may remain, but only on condition that you
pray incessantly to St. Francis, and that you carry all the books I
have left behind to the count’s room.’ He ran away without replying, and
doubtless with a heart overflowing with joy. My books were worth about a
hundred crowns, and the count told me that he would give me the money
for them _on my return_. ‘You will never see me here again,’ I replied,
‘on that you may safely rely; but the value of the books may be taken as
a set off against your loan of the sequins. As for this scoundrel I am
delighted to think he has not the courage to follow me, for I should not
know what to do with him; and besides he is altogether unworthy to share
the honour of such an escape as this with Balbi and myself.’ ‘Very
good,’ replied the count; ‘only take care that to-morrow he has not
occasion to congratulate himself on his cowardice.’
“It was now time to go, for the moon had disappeared, and it was quite
dark. I tied half our bundle of cords round Balbi’s shoulders, together
with his own bundle of clothes; and having equipped myself in the same
way, we made for the opening in the roof.
“I went out first, and Balbi followed. I had the crowbar in my right
hand, and, using this as a kind of prop, I contrived, by crawling on all
fours, to reach the summit of the roof. The monk clung to my waistband,
and I dragged him up, so that I was like a beast of burden groaning
under a double load; and all this on a sloping roof, rendered quite
slippery by a dewy fog.
“When we were about half way up, the monk implored me to stop, as he had
lost one of his packets, and hoped to be able to find it in the gutter.
My first impulse was to give him a sound kick and to send him after his
packet. But, happily, I was enabled to restrain myself, for to have lost
his co-operation would have been to forfeit my only
[Illustration: The Monk clung to my waistband.]
chance of escape. I asked him if it was the packet of cords, and he
informed me, to my great joy, that it was the other one, containing a
valuable manuscript, which he had discovered in the prison, and which he
hoped would be the means of making his fortune. I told him that we could
not possibly return for it, for that a single retrograde step would be
the ruin of us. The poor fellow breathed a deep sigh, and we went on
climbing as before.
“At length, as I have said, we reached the summit of the roof. I
comfortably got astride, and Father Balbi followed my example. Behind us
was the little island of St. George the Greater, and a couple of hundred
paces in front were the numerous cupolas of the church of St. Mark. My
first act was to rid myself of my burden, and I invited my companion to
do the same. He placed his bundle of cords under his thighs, as well as
he could; but, wishing to take off his hat, which hurt him, and being
awkward, it rolled from tile to tile, and at last joined the packet of
clothes in the canal. My poor companion was in despair. ‘Bad omen!’ he
exclaimed. ‘Here I am, at the beginning of our enterprise, without shirt
or hat, without even my precious manuscript.’
“‘My dear fellow,’ I said, ‘these two accidents, which are far from
discouraging me, prove to you that God protects us; for if your hat,
instead of falling to the right, had fallen to the left, we should have
been lost: it would have fallen into the court-yard of the palace, where
the guards would have found it, and we should, before long, have been
retaken.’
“After passing some minutes looking right and left, I told the monk not
to stir from there till I returned; and I advanced, carrying only my
crowbar in my hand, along the summit of the roof without any
difficulty. I spent nearly an hour on the roof, going from side to side,
observing; but in vain, for I could nowhere find a point to which to
fasten the end of the rope. I was in the greatest perplexity. The canal
and the palace court-yard were both out of the question, and on the top
of the church I could see only precipices which led to no opening. To go
beyond the church I should have had to climb ascents so steep that I saw
it was impossible.
“Yet it was necessary to do something--either to get out or to return to
the dungeon, never, perhaps, to come out again, or to throw myself into
the canal. My eye was caught by a garret window on the side next the
canal, and about two-thirds of the way down the slope of the roof. It
was far enough from the place whence I had come out to enable me to
judge that the garret it gave light to did not belong to the inclosure
of the prison I had broken out from. It must be a loft over some
apartment of the palace, the doors of which I should naturally find open
at daybreak. Under this impression I thought it right to have a look at
the garret window; and, sliding down gently, I was soon astride of the
little roof. Leaning on my hands, and stretching forward, I was able to
see and touch a little grating, behind which was a window with small
panes of glass set in lead. The window was nothing, but the grating
seemed an invincible obstacle, for without a file I did not see how I
could remove it. I was confounded, when a very simple and natural thing
revived my spirits. The clock of St. Martin’s striking midnight was the
phenomenon which produced this effect. The clock reminded me that All
Saints’ Day was setting in, and being the feast of my patron saint, the
prediction of my Jesuit confessor recurred to me: ‘_Know that you will
not get out of this till the feast of the patron saint whose name you
bear._’ But I own that what especially roused my courage and added to my
strength was the profound oracle I had received from my beloved Ariosto:
‘_Fra il fin d’ottobre, e il capo di novembre._’
“The stroke of the clock was like a speaking talisman calling on me to
act, and promising victory. Extended at full length, with my head over
the grating, I pushed the lock into the framework for it, and determined
to tear it off bodily. In a quarter of an hour I had succeeded. I placed
the grating aside, and I had no difficulty in breaking the glass out,
despite my bleeding hands. Retracing my steps, I got back to where I had
left my companion. He was furious. He heaped the grossest abuse on me
for leaving him there so long. He assured me he was only waiting for it
to strike one, to return to his prison.
“‘What did you think about me then?’
“‘I thought you had fallen down some precipice.’
“‘And you express your joy at seeing me by loading me with abuse?’
“‘What were you doing so long then?’
“‘Follow me, and you shall see.’
“Having picked up my packets, I made my way back to the garret window.
When we reached it, I gave Balbi an exact account of what I had done,
and consulted him as to how we should get into the garret. The thing was
easy, I told him, for one of us, for by means of the rope he could be
let down by the other; but I did not see how the second was to get down,
having no means of fastening the rope. If I were to get in and let
myself slip down, I might break my arms or legs, for I did not know the
distance of the floor. To this reasoning in the most friendly tone, the
brute replied, ‘Let me down, and when I am below you will have time
enough to think of how to follow me.’
“I own that in my indignation I was tempted to bury my crowbar in his
breast. My good genius restrained me, however. I did not utter a word of
reproach for his base selfishness, but undoing my bundle of ropes, I
tied them firmly under his arms, and getting him to be down flat, feet
foremost, I lowered him on to the roof of the garret window. When he was
there I bid him creep into the window as far as the hips, and to balance
himself in that position. When that was done, I slid along the roof as
before, and holding the rope firmly, told him to let go, and not be
afraid. Having reached the floor, he untied the rope, and I found that
the height was more than fifty feet.[B] The leap would be too dangerous.
The monk cried out to me to throw him the ropes and he would take care.
I was very careful not to follow his advice.
“Not knowing what to do, and waiting for an inspiration, I crept upon
the summit of the roof, and my eye rested upon a spot near a cupola
which I had not visited. I made my way to it. I found a scaffolding
covered with plates of lead, near a large garret window, closed with two
shutters. On it was a barrel of mortar, a trowel, and at one side a
ladder which appeared long enough to assist me to descend to the loft
where I had left my companion. Passing my rope through the first round,
I dragged the ladder through the window. The point then was to get in
this heavy mass which was twelve of my cubits long,[C] and the
difficulty of the task made me repent having deprived myself of the
monk’s assistance. I had pushed the ladder until one of the ends touched
the window while the other reached a full third beyond the gutter. I got
on to the top of the window, and dragging the ladder after me, I tied
the rope to the eighth round, then I let it run until it was parallel
with the window. I tried to pass it through the window, but found it
impossible to get it past the fifth rung, for the end was stopped inside
by the top of the window. I might have put the ladder across, tied the
rope to it, and then slid down without danger, but the ladder would then
have remained to point to where we were hiding.
“I did not wish to risk losing by imprudence the fruit of so much
fatigue and danger, and to leave no trace the entire ladder must be got
in. Being without help, I resolved to mount to the gutter, raise it, and
shove it in. I did so, but with so much danger that it was a marvel I
was not killed. I could let the ladder run with the rope without any
fear of its falling into the canal, because it was in a manner hooked on
to the spout by the third round. I lay on my stomach with my feet
against the marble spout. I then raised the ladder half a foot, pushed
it forward, and to my delight saw it enter about a foot. This diminished
its weight. I had still to get it two feet farther by raising it as
much, then by getting atop of the window by means of the rope I could
get it in. I got on my knees to raise it, but the force I had to use
made me shoot as far as the chest over the roof.
“It was a horrible moment: even now I tremble at it. The natural
instinct of self-preservation made me almost unconsciously use all my
strength to turn on my side and stop myself, and miraculously I
succeeded. Happily I had nothing to fear for the ladder, for in the
unlucky effort which was near costing me so dear, I had sent it more
than three feet in, which fixed it immovable. In trying to clamber back
to my former position I was seized with a cramp which deprived me of the
use of my limbs. Retaining my self-possession, I lay still till the
cramp passed. The moment was terrible, but in two minutes more I had the
happiness to succeed in getting my knees back in the gutter. Lifting the
ladder as soon as I had recovered breath, till it was parallel with the
window, I then mounted on the top of the window, and easily got the
whole of the ladder in, my companion catching one end of it, and then
throwing in ropes, clothes, and the débris of the window, I descended
myself into the garret.
“Arm in arm we inspected the dark place we found ourselves in. It was
about thirty paces long by twenty wide. At one end was a folding door
barred with iron. It looked badly, but it opened at a touch. In the next
enclosure we knocked up against a large table surrounded by seats and
armchairs. Opening one of the windows we saw by the starlight only
precipices between the cupolas. Shutting the window we returned to where
we had left our packages, and as I was utterly exhausted, body and mind,
I put one of them under my head and fell fast asleep. Had death stared
me in the face I could not have kept awake, and well I remember the
delightful pleasure of that sleep.
“I slept for three hours and a half, and was at last wakened by the
shaking and cries of the monk. He told me five o’clock had struck, and
that my sleeping was inconceivable. It was, however, not surprising. For
two whole days excitement had prevented me from eating or sleeping; and,
besides, the exertions I had just made would have exhausted any man.
This sleep completely refreshed me, and there was now sufficient light
to know what one was doing.
“When I cast my eyes about I cried out, ‘This is not a prison; there
must be an exit easy to find.’ In a corner opposite the iron door I
spied out another door; running my hand over it I found the key-hole.
Putting in my crowbar I opened it, and we found ourselves in a little
chamber, where a key lay on the table. With this key I opened another
door opposite, sent the monk back for our clothes, replaced the key, and
we entered a gallery, the niches of which were full of papers. It was
the archives. We descended a stone staircase, and then another, and at
the bottom found a glass door, which we opened, and were in a hall I
knew--the ducal chancellery. I opened a window. I could easily have got
out, but I should have found myself in the labyrinth of little streets
surrounding the church of St. Mark. God protect me from such folly!
“I tried the lock of the door; but finding it impossible to force it, I
decided on making a hole in one of the panels. The monk aided me,
trembling at the noise my crowbar made each time I tried to drive it
through the plank; such a noise was sure to be heard at a distance. I
felt the danger, but it was necessary to brave it.