Pinetti once gone, my revenge was satiated, and, being master of the battle-field, I might have abandoned a profession ill fitted for my birth. But my medical connexion was broken up, and, on the other hand, I yielded to a motive which you will appreciate some day; when a man has once tasted the intoxication produced by the applause of the public, it is very difficult to renounce it; with my will or against, I must continue my profession as conjurer. I therefore determined on profiting by the reputation I had gained, and proceeded to Rome, as a brilliant termination to my Italian representations. Pinetti had never dared to enter that city, less through distrust of himself, than through fear of the Inquisition, of which he could only speak with terror. The chevalier was extremely prudent whenever he was personally concerned: he feared being treated like a sorcerer, and ending his days in an auto da fè. More than once he had bid me take warning by the unhappy Cagliostro, who was condemned to death, and only owed to the clemency of the Pope the commutation of the penalty into perpetual imprisonment. Confiding in the intelligence of Pius VII., and, besides, having no pretensions to the necromancy Pinetti affected, nor to the charlatanism of Cagliostro, I proceeded to the capital of the Christian world, where my performances created a great sensation. His Holiness himself, on hearing of me, did me the signal honor of requesting a performance, at which I was advised all the dignitaries of the Church would form my audience. You can fancy, my lad, with what eagerness I acquiesced in his wish, and what care I devoted to my preparations. After selecting all my best tricks, I ransacked my brains to invent one worthy of my illustrious spectators. But I had no need to search long, for chance, that most ingenious of inventors, came to my aid. On the day prior to the performance I was in the shop of one of the first watchmakers of Rome, when a servant came in to ask if his eminence the Cardinal de ----‘s watch was repaired. “It will not be ready till this evening,” the watchmaker replied; “and I will do myself the honor of carrying it to your master myself.” When the servant had retired, the tradesman said to me: “This is a handsome and capital watch. The cardinal to whom it belongs values it at more than 10,000 fr.; for, as he ordered it himself of the celebrated Brèguet, he fancies it must be unique of its kind. Strangely enough, though, only two days ago, a young scamp belonging to this city offered me a precisely similar watch, made by the same artist for 1000 fr.” While the watchmaker was talking to me, I had already formed a plan. “Do you think,” I said to him, “that this person is still inclined to dispose of his watch?” “Certainly,” the watchmaker replied. “This young prodigal, who has spent all his fortune, is now reduced to sell his family jewels: hence the 1000 fr. will be welcome.” “Is he to be found?”