Casanova shuddered. This Tomasi would certainly give the alarm, the place was full of _sbirri_, and arrest was imminent. Only determined measures would serve. “Come with me,” he said, seizing him by the collar and truculently exposing the crowbar. Tomasi, affrighted, shook himself free, took a flying leap across a ditch and ran for his life. But when at a safe distance, he turned and kissed his hand as though he wished Casanova well. It was of vital importance to get forward. A post chaise took the fugitives as far as Treviso, but was then dismissed as it was too expensive a way of travelling, and they went on afoot. After four hours’ walking Casanova was in a deplorable condition; his boots torn to bits, his ankles swollen; and he lay down, utterly exhausted, to hold discourse with his companion. “We must separate here,” he said to the monk. “Our point is Valstagna beyond the frontier, but we must reach it by different ways. You shall go by the easiest; take all the cash and go by the woods, and I will take the mountain road. You will reach there to-morrow evening; I shall be twenty-four hours later. Wait for me in the first tavern on the left hand side of the road. Go. To-night I mean to have a good night’s rest in a bed, and I could not sleep soundly if you were anywhere within reach.” Balbi’s reply was a flat refusal. He reminded his companion that he had promised never to separate from him. Whereupon Casanova with his crowbar proceeded to dig a hole by the roadside. “It is your grave,” he said quietly. “I mean to bury you here dead or alive. I’ve done with you. But you may run away if you like, I shall not follow you.” Speech and manner were convincing. The monk thought it best to accept the proposal and took himself off.