The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 10: under the LeadsCasanova, Giacomo
History
The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 10: under the Leads
Casanova, Giacomo
Casanova, Giacomo, 1725-1798; Europe -- History -- 18th century -- Biography
The appointed hour struck--and the angel came, Soradaci was going to fall
down on his face, but I told him it was not necessary. In three minutes
the passage was completed, the piece of board fell at my feet, and Father
Balbi into my arms. "Your work is ended and mine begun," said I to him.
We embraced each other, and he gave me the pike and a pair of scissors. I
told Soradaci to cut our beards, but I could not help laughing to see the
creature--his mouth all agape-staring at the angel, who was more like a
devil. However, though quite beside himself, he cut our beards admirably.
Anxious to see how the land lay, I told the monk to stay with Soradaci,
as I did not care to leave him alone, and I went out. I found the hole in
the wall narrow, but I succeeded in getting through it. I was above the
count's cell, and I came in and greeted the worthy old man. The man
before me was not fitted to encounter such difficulties as would be
involved in an escape by a steep roof covered with plates of lead. He
asked me what my plan was, and told me that he thought I had acted rather
inconsiderately. "I only ask to go forward," said I, "till I find death
or freedom." "If you intend," he answered, "to pierce the roof and to
descend from thence, I see no prospect of success, unless you have wings;
and I at all events have not the courage to accompany you. I will remain
here, and pray to God on your behalf."
I went out again to look at the roof, getting as close as I could to the
sides of the loft. Touching the lower part of the roof, I took up a
position between the beams, and feeling the wood with the end of the bar
I luckily found them to be half rotten. At every blow of the bar they
fell to dust, so feeling certain of my ability to make a large enough
hole in less than a hour I returned to my cell, and for four hours
employed myself in cutting up sheets, coverlets, and bedding, to make
ropes. I took care to make the knots myself and to be assured of their
strength, for a single weak knot might cost us our lives. At last I had
ready a hundred fathoms of rope.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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