In July, 1888, his love of adventure again drew him away and eventually he managed to reach Paris, where he established himself in the Latin Quarter. His family agreed to make him a small monthly allowance, provided he should adopt some reputable means of livelihood. But the attempt was half-hearted, and as he soon found himself straitened in his means, he eked them out by thefts committed at the Bon Marché, Louvre and other great department stores. His tricks and fraudulent devices were ingenious and varied and may be passed over. He soon aimed at higher game and began stealing unset precious stones from jewellers’ shops, by which he realised plunder to the value of about 5,000 francs monthly. He hired a beautiful villa in the rue François I, lived in luxury, kept race horses and was well received by members of fashionable society, in whose exclusive homes he was made welcome as the supposed son of a rich father, and where he gambled on an enormous scale, often losing large sums. One fine day, however, fate overtook him and he was arrested for thirty-seven thefts to the aggregate value of 540,000 francs. He was thus dashed from the height of prosperity into an abyss of misfortune, and in 1890, when still barely nineteen years of age, he was sentenced to four years’ imprisonment. After his release, he was again sent home to Bucharest, where as usual he remained only a short time. He now visited various countries, including Japan and the United States. In Chicago, where many bankers are of German extraction, he was invited everywhere, partly because his German was so perfect and also because he adopted the title of Duke of Otranti and so made an impression by his imaginary high rank. Rich marriages were proposed to him, but the parents of a beautiful girl whom he desired to make his wife discredited the proofs he offered of his wealth and exalted rank. He continued his thefts and was twice imprisoned during this period of his career. But as we are chiefly concerned with his German experiences, we shall take up his life again at the time of his marriage to a German countess of an ancient Catholic family whom he met travelling in Switzerland. He managed to procure the consent of the girl’s mother, but the rest of the family were averse to the match. The young people were genuinely in love, and this marvellous adventurer never ceased to love his wife and was a tender, though not very faithful husband while they remained together. There were so many difficulties to be overcome and so much to be concealed that the marriage seemed hardly possible. But Manolescu procured his papers from Roumania and the couple were married by the bishop of Geneva, the Roumanian vice-consul being present, though the bridegroom, to add to other complications, belonged to the Greek Church. He travelled a great deal with his wife, and in 1899 visited some of her aristocratic relations at their fine country schloss, where he was warmly received.