And now it would not be at all amiss to make Count Rosalvo sit down
quietly between the good old Doge and his lovely niece; and then
cause him to relate the motive of Monaldeschi's hatred, in what
manner he lost Valeria, what crimes were imputed to him, and how he
escaped from the assassins sent in pursuit of him by his enemy; how
he had long wandered from place to place, and how he had at length
learned, during his abode in Bohemia with a gang of gipsies, such
means of disguising his features as enabled him to defy the keenest
penetration to discover in the beggar Abellino the once admired
Count Rosalvo; how in this disguise he had returned to Italy; and
how Lomellino, having ascertained that he was universally believed
at Naples to have long since perished by shipwreck, and therefore
that neither the officers of the Inquisition, nor the assassins of
his enemies were likely to trouble themselves any more about him, he
had ventured to resume, with some slight alterations, his own
appearance at Venice; how the arrival of Monaldeschi had obliged him
to conceal himself, till an opportunity offered of presenting
himself to the Prince when unattended, and of demanding satisfaction
for his injuries; how he had been himself wounded in several places
by his antagonist, though the combat finally terminated in his
favour; how he had resolved to make use of Monaldeschi's death to
terrify Andreas still further, and of Parozzi's conspiracy to obtain
Rosabella's hand of the Doge; how he had trembled lest the heart of
his mistress should have been only captivated by the romantic
appearance of the adventurer Flodoardo, and have rejected him when
known to be the bravo Abellino; how he had resolved to make use of
the terror inspired by the assassin to put her love to the severest
trial; and how, had she failed in that trial, he had determined to
renounce the inconstant maid for ever; with many other HOWS, WHYS,
and WHEREFORES, which, not being explained, will, I doubt, leave
much of this tale involved in mystery: but before I begin Rosalvo's
history, I must ask two questions--First--do my readers like the
manner in which I relate adventures?
Secondly--If my readers DO like my manner of relating adventures,
can I employ my time better than in relating them?
When these questions are answered, I may probably resume my pen. In
the meanwhile, gentlemen and ladies, good-night, and pleasant dreams
attend you.