looking again steadfastly at me, and nodding his head, went out, and
his companion immediately followed him. I watched them, and seeing them,
with two or three more, in close conference, and no doubt consulting
whether they should apprehend me or not, I walked that moment into
the stable, mounted my horse unobserved by them, and while they were
deliberating in an orchard behind the house, rode off at full speed, and
in a few hours got into the Modanese, where I refreshed both with food
and rest, as I was there in no immediate danger, my horse and myself. I
was indeed surprised to find that those fellows did not pursue me, nor
can I in any other way account for it, but by supposing, what is not
improbable, that, as they were strangers as well as myself, and had all
the appearance of banditti or ruffians flying out of the dominions of
the Pope, the woman of the house did not care to trust them with her
horses. From the Modanese I continued my journey, more leisurely through
the Parmesan, the Milanese, and part of the Venetian territory, to
Chiavenna, subject to the Grisons, who abhor the very name of the
Inquisition, and are ever ready to receive and protect all who, flying
from it, take refuge, as many Italians do, in their dominions. Still
I carefully concealed who I was, and whence I came, for, though no
Inquisition prevails among the Swiss, yet the Pope's nuncio who resides
at Lucerne, (a popish canton through which I was to pass,) might have
persuaded the magistrate to stop me as an apostate and deserter from the
order.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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