After having gone about a mile, I addressed myself to Count B-. "I
presume we are on the road to Verona." "Yes, further," was the
reply; "we are for Venice, where it is my duty to hand you over to a
special commission there appointed."

We travelled post, stopped nowhere, and on the 20th of February
arrived at my destination. The September of the year preceding,
just one month previous to my arrest, I had been at Venice, and had
met a large and delightful party at dinner, in the Hotel della Luna.
Strangely enough, I was now conducted by the Count and the officer
to the very inn where we had spent that evening in social mirth.

One of the waiters started on seeing me, perceiving that, though my
conductors had assumed the dress of domestics, I was no other than a
prisoner in their hands. I was gratified at this recognition, being
persuaded that the man would mention my arrival there to more than
one.

We dined, and I was then conducted to the palace of the Doge, where
the tribunals are now held. I passed under the well-known porticoes
of the Procuratie, and by the Florian Hotel, where I had enjoyed so
many pleasant evenings the last autumn; but I did not happen to meet
a single acquaintance. We went across the piazzetta, and there it
struck me that the September before, I had met a poor mendicant, who
addressed me in these singular words:-

"I see, sir, you are a stranger, but I cannot make out why you, sir,
and all other strangers, should so much admire this place. To me it
is a place of misfortune, and I never pass it when I can avoid it."