The effect of this discourse--a very unseasonable one, under the
circumstances--was to make my blood boil, but I listened with a patience
wholly foreign to my nature. The rough reproaches of the monk enraged me,
and inclined me to answer him in his own way; but I felt that my position
was a difficult one, and that unless I was careful I might ruin all, for
I had to do with a coward quite capable of saying that he was not going
to risk his life, and by myself I could not hope to succeed. I
constrained myself, therefore, and as politely as I could I told them
that I was sure of success, though I could not as yet communicate the
details of my plan. "I shall profit by your wise counsels," said I to
Count Asquin, "and be very prudent, but my trust in God and in my own
strength will carry me through all difficulties."

From time to time I stretched out my hand to assure myself that Soradaci
was there, for he did not speak a word. I laughed to myself to think what
he might be turning in his head now that he was convinced that I had
deceived him. At half-past ten I told him to go and see what was the
position of the moon. He obeyed and returned, saying that in an hour and
a-half it would have disappeared, and that there was a thick fog which
would make the leads very dangerous.

"All I ask," I said, "is that the fog be not made of oil. Put your cloak
in a packet with some of the rope which must be divided equally between
us."

At this I was astonished to find him at my knees kissing my hands, and
entreating me not to kill him. "I should be sure," said he, "to fall over
into the canal, and I should not be of any use to you. Ah! leave me here,
and all the night I will pray to St. Francis for you. You can kill me or
save me alive; but of this I am determined, never to follow you."