CHAPTER XLIX.



The effect of this accident upon my imagination had not yet ceased,
when one night, as I was sitting at my little table reading, and
half perished with cold, I heard a number of voices not far from me.
They were those of the jailer, his wife, and sons, with the
assistants, all crying:

"Fire! fire. Oh, blessed Virgin! we are lost, we are lost!"

I felt no longer cold, I started to my feet in a violent
perspiration, and looked out to discover the quarter from which the
fire proceeded. I could perceive nothing, I was informed, however,
that it arose in the palace itself, from some public chambers
contiguous to the prisons. One of the assistants called out, "But,
sir governor, what shall we do with these caged birds here, if the
fire keeps a head?" The head jailer replied, "Why, I should not
like to have them roasted alive. Yet I cannot let them out of their
bars without special orders from the commission. You may run as
fast as you can, and get an order if you can."

"To be sure I will, but, you know, it will be too late for the
prisoners."

All this was said in the rude Venetian dialect, but I understood it
too well. And now, where was all my heroic spirit and resignation,
which I had counted upon to meet sudden death? Why did the idea of