114 THE "VICCOLO" OF that my friend Don Ottavio was not so much of a politician as I had imagined. In short, it was high time to take Lucrezia away; and, unfortunately, the role of confidant was the only one deputed to me in this adventure. A moment after Don Ottavio arrived, disguised. The horses came too; and we set off.
Lucrezia had no passport; but a woman, especially a pretty one, raises no suspicions. One gendarme, however, raised difficulties. I told him he was a hero, and had assuredly served under the great Napoleon. He acknowledged the fact, and I offered him a portrait of that great man on a golden coin, telling him that it was my habit to travel with a lady friend to keep me company; and that, as I very frequently changed them, I did not think it any use to put their names on my passport.
" This one," I added, " leaves me at the next town. I am told that I shall find many others there who could take her place."
"You would do wrong to change her," said the gendarme, as he respectfully shut the carriage door.
To tell you the truth, Madam, this rascal of a Don Ottavio had entered upon terms of friendship with a lovely young lady. She was the sister of a certain wealthy planter named Van-
