for not keeping his promise, saying, that if he
had thought Casanova had no assured plan,
he would never have helped him to leave
his cell. Between the two, the three hours'
delay was not very pleasantly passed; neither
could Casanova place much reliance on
Soradici, who sat without speaking a word.
About half-past ten he sent him to see where
the moon was; on his return he said that in
an hour's time it would be perfectly dark, but
that the mist from the canal would render the
leads very slippery and dangerous. Casanova
took no heed of this warning, but ordered him
to roll up his cloak, and take a bundle of the
cords which he had previously divided. On
receiving this order, Soradici fell on his knees,
and kissing Casanova's hand and weeping,
begged him not to decree his death. "I am
sure," he said, "to fall into the canal; I shall
be of no use to you; leave me here, and I will
pray to St. Francis for your safety all night.
You may kill me if you please, but I am determined
not to follow you." This happened to be
precisely what Casanova wished, and he at once
consented to his request, telling him to collect
his books and take them to Count Asquin, as a
set-off for the two sequins. He then asked for
pen, ink, and paper, of which the Count had a
supply, and, as well as he could in the dark,
wrote a letter to the inquisitors, in which he
deprecated their increased severity in the event
of his being recaptured.

He left the letter in the hands of Soradici,
with orders not to give it to Lorenzo, but to the
secretary in person, for there was not the least
doubt of his being taken before him, if, as was
more than probable, he did not at once go to
the cell on being informed of Casanova's escape.

It was time now, to be gone. The moon had
sunk. I, continues Casanova, fastened half the
cords round the neck of Father Balbi on one
side, and secured his bundle of clothes on the
other. I equipped myself in like manner, and,
both in our waistcoats and wearing our hats, we
took our way along the loft, and reaching the
opening in the roof, passed through, and found
ourselves—UPON THE LEADS.

Soradici, who had followed us to the aperture,
received orders to replace the sheet of
lead after we were gone, and then go back to
his cell and pray to St. Francis. Placing myself
on all-fours, I then firmly grasped my spontoon,
and stretching out my right arm, thrust my
weapon obliquely between the joints of the
leads, and seizing with the other hand the
edge of the sheet I had raised, dragged myself
up the roof—the monk, who had followed me,
clinging fast to the waistband of my breeches—
so that I had to drag a heavy weight as well as
climb, and that on a steep surface slippery with
fog. Half way up this perilous ascent, Balbi
called to me to stop, one of his bundles having
fallen off. My first impulse was to kick out
behind, and send him flying after his bundle;
but I had presence of mind enough not to give
way to my desire, for the punishment would
have been too great on both sides, since, alone,
I could not possibly have escaped. I asked him
if it was our heap of cords, but as he replied
that it was the bundle containing his clothes, I
said he must put up with his loss, for a single
step backward might be our ruin. The poor
monk sighed and held on by my waistcoat, and
we continued to climb. After having cleared
about fifteen or sixteen divisions of the roof, we
gained the ridge, of which I got astride, and
Balbi, whom I hoisted up, followed my example.
Our backs were turned to the small island of
San Giorgio Maggiore, and two hundred paces
in front of us were the numerous cupolas of the
church of St. Mark, which forms part of the
ducal palace. I began by unloading myself,
and told my companion to do the same. He
placed his heap of cords under him, but in trying
to take off his hat, it fell from his hand, and
went to join his bundle in the canal.

After passing some minutes in looking round
me, I desired the monk to remain motionless till
my return, and having only my spontoon in
my hand, I urged myself forward, still astride.
It took me a good hour to go all over the roof,
examining it minutely throughout, but I could
find no place fit to fasten a cord to, and I was
in the greatest perplexity. I could neither
think of descending into the canal, or the palace
court, and the upper part of the church, between
the cupolas, offered nothing to my view but
precipices which terminated in no open space.
To get beyond the church towards the Canonica,
the roofs were so exceedingly steep that they
did not appear to offer a chance of passing them.
While revolving what to do, I fixed my eyes on
a dormer-window, about two-thirds down the
slope on the side towards the canal. It was far
enough off from the point I had started from, to
satisfy me that the loft to which it gave light
did not belong to that of the prisons out of
which I had broken. It could only belong to
some garret, inhabited or not, above an apartment
of the palace, where, at daylight, I should
naturally find doors open. With this notion in
my head, it was necessary I should examine the
front of the window, and gently gliding down, I
soon got astride of its narrow roof. Resting on
the ledges, I leaned forward, and was able to see
and touch a small grating, behind which was a
lattice-window, the panes being set in lead.
The window offered no great obstacle, but the
grating, slight as it was, seemed an invincible
difficulty, for without a file I could not remove
the bars, and I had nothing but my spontoon.
I was confused, and began to lose courage, when
the simplest and most natural thought arose,
and renewed it.

The clock of St. Mark's striking midnight,
was the agent which roused me from the troubled
state into which I had fallen. That clock
recalled to my memory that the day about to begin
was dedicated to All Saints, and as my patron
saint, if I had one, must be amongst them, the
moment for realising the Jesuit's prediction had
arrived. But I own that what most roused my
courage, and really added to my physical strength,
was the profane oracle I had found in my dear