I store my bag away in the barn and I proceed, gun in hand, towards the
house of the priest; the church was closed.

I must give my readers some idea of the state I was in at that moment. I
was quietly hopeless. The three or four hundred sequins I had with me did
not prevent me from thinking that I was not in very great security on the
island; I could not remain long, I would soon be found out, and, being
guilty of desertion, I should be treated accordingly. I did not know what
to do, and that is always an unpleasant predicament. It would be absurd
for me to return to Corfu of my own accord; my flight would then be
useless, and I should be thought a fool, for my return would be a proof
of cowardice or stupidity; yet I did not feel the courage to desert
altogether. The chief cause of my decision was not that I had a thousand
sequins in the hands of the faro banker, or my well-stocked wardrobe, or
the fear of not getting a living somewhere else, but the unpleasant
recollection that I should leave behind me a woman whom I loved to
adoration, and from whom I had not yet obtained any favour, not even that
of kissing her hand. In such distress of mind I could not do anything
else but abandon myself to chance, whatever the result might be, and the
most essential thing for the present was to secure a lodging and my daily
food.

I knock at the door of the priest's dwelling. He looks out of a window
and shuts it without listening to me, I knock again, I swear, I call out
loudly, all in vain, Giving way to my rage, I take aim at a poor sheep
grazing with several others at a short distance, and kill it. The
herdsman begins to scream, the papa shows himself at the window, calling
out, "Thieves! Murder!" and orders the alarm-bell to be rung. Three bells
are immediately set in motion, I foresee a general gathering: what is
going to happen? I do not know, but happen what will, I load my gun and