elsewhere. Sometimes I returned so disordered that I shrank from ascending the grand staircase and slunk around the courtyard under the galleries to the servitors' stair. I became habituated to low taverns across the river, where I naturally became involved in wine-room quarrels and street brawls. I flattered myself that I comported myself well in these senseless mêlées. I dealt some shrewd wounds and came off unscathed. I felt all the man, the man of pleasure.
Then one night I was entrapped, I never realized how, in a street fight with several rufflers. One of my comrades fell and the rest fled, and I was left alone, my back to a barred door, facing several blades which I barely kept off, when a tall man appeared behind my assailants, fell upon them without warning and promptly beat them off. After the sound of their fleeing feet had died away in the alleys I found myself face to face with Ettore, wearing a cap without a feather, and a plain brown cloak. He asked only:
"You are not wounded?"
"Not a scratch," I replied.
"We will walk together, if you do not object," he said. "Which way are you going?"
"Home," I answered.
As we traversed the crooked streets, crossed the bridge and made our way home, he kept
