of his birth to show. This was in 1623, and
from his appearance he was put down as of
seventeen years of age. This is all that he
could tell their lordships respecting his origin
and his childhood."

The peasant woman of Bassano was sent for,
and fully corroborated Pascal's statement.

Since the commencement of the trial, a notice
was posted up on the bridge of the Rialto,
inviting all persons who had any knowledge of
Pascal to present themselves before the Forty.
Various individuals gave information of no
moment. Among the number, however, who
gave voluntary testimony, we find the name of
the celebrated Titian.

"Pascal," said the great painter, " was one
of my best pupils. He was a first-rate draughtsman.
I recognised in him that innate skill and
knowledge of the secrets of our art, without
which no man can become a great painter.
The figures sprang, as it were, naturally to life
under the fingers of this boy as if he had
imbibed the art with his mother's milk. In the
great picture which the Supreme Council deigned
to command of me, representing the defeat of
the Emperor Frederick, one of my greatest
works, the group in which Prince Otho is taken
prisoner and brought before the Admiral of this
most serene Republic, was entirely drawn by
Pascal Ziobà. After thrice drawing it, I was
not satisfied with my own work, and put it up
to competition among my pupils; and it was
from Ziobà's sketch that I gave the last touch
to this picture, so difficult in conception that
no artist before me ventured to undertake it.*
* This picture of Titian was destroyed in the
fire of the ducal palace in 1572.

"I founded great hopes on Pascal as an honour
to my profession. Like myself, he painted
from love of the Art, and not for lucre; but,
with regret, I found that he had not sufficient
ambition of glory, and entertained no wish to
see his name inscribed on the list of great
masters. Some extraordinary idea that he was of
noble birth continually haunted him. He
fancied he should some day discover his parents,
whom he believed to be great lords. This
folly ruined his career. As soon as he received
his small pension, he expressed a wish to enter
the university, to learn things stranger to our
art. My remonstrances were in vain. He
replied, good humouredly, that, should it please
God, he would one day order pictures from me
to the amount of ten thousand ducats to
celebrate his coming of age. I left him to his folly;
but as I loved the boy, I exerted myself to get
him admitted into the university. Pascal Ziobà
led a regular life; he had no hatreds or quarrels,
not from mildness of character, for he is rather
hasty in temper than otherwise, but from deep-
rooted pride. His disposition was lively and
amusing; but, with all his good humour, he always
showed that he considered himself superior to
his companions. Unless anything should
transpire to alter my opinion, I believe him
incapable of committing a murder."†

†See the papers of the Caso dei Gambareschi at
Venice.

In his reply to the judges, the accused showed
the most remarkable assurance and presence of
mind. The only charge that remained against
him was the broken words of the dying man.
Those three words, " Ziobà — il viluppo—
disegni," the magistrates interpreted as, " Ziobà,
is the name of my murderer; you will recognise
him by the case he carries on his shoulder,
and in which, instead of a diploma, there are
drawings." This explanation appeared probable;
but Pascal constructed a dozen phrases with
the same words, all of which might be equally
probable.

"But," said the chief magistrate, "the name
of the accused is Ziobà, and it is a very uncommon
name."

"That is true," replied Pascal; " but there
is a Thursday in every week. If, instead of
Ziobà, Messer Antonio had said Doge, would
you at once have conferred upon me that dignity
so nobly worn by our august prince, the
magnificent Andreas Gritti? I do not think so. It
would have been much better for me than if
poor Marcellina Aliga had found me in the road
to Bassano on a Wednesday; I should then
have been called Mercore, and the words of the
murdered man would not have affected me."

At each reply, the accusation lost ground.
There was every appearance of Pascal being
acquitted, when an incident again aroused the
suspicions of the judges. A new witness
appeared in court. It was the noble lord Francis
Contarini.

On beholding the prisoner, that grave
personage addressed him as follows:

"Well, young man, it seems decreed that I
shall always find you in trouble. This time I
will not promise to save you; but I will say a
few words in your favour."

Pascal, doubtless, did not expect much from
the generous intentions of this witness; for on
beholding Francis Contarini he turned deadly
pale, and gave marked evidence of anxiety.

The noble Contarini made the following
statement:

"On Thursday of last year's carnival, whilst
crossing the Piazzetta at dusk, I came upon a
group of masked students, who were enjoying
themselves. One of them, performing the part
of an improvisatore, was addressing a comic
speech to the gaping crowd. I was
accompanied by the Lord Grimani, masked like
myself, and we were both much amused at the
witty drolleries of the young man. From
curiosity, I asked some students who their
comrade was. 'It is,' they replied, 'the celebrated
Pascal Ziobà, the most amiable and the most
valorous of the students of Padua.' Six months
afterwards, on my way to the ducal palace, I
passed in front of the police-office of the Cinque,
and the name of Pascal Ziobà, placarded on the
official list of delinquents, caught my eye.
Being in a hurry to reach the palace, I had no
time to stop; but on the way I felt compassion
for the youth, who had afforded me so much
amusement at the carnival time, and who was
probably prosecuted for some petty debt. On