Having thus prepared myself to obey my destiny, which, according to my superstitious feelings, called me imperiously to Constantinople, I went to St. Mark’s Square in order to see and to be seen, enjoying by anticipation the surprise of my acquaintances at not finding me any longer an abbe. I must not forget to state that at Revero I had decorated my hat with a red cockade. I thought that my first visit was, by right, due to the Abbe Grimani. The moment he saw me he raised a perfect shriek of astonishment, for he thought I was still with Cardinal Acquaviva, on the road to a political career, and he saw standing before him a son of Mars. He had just left the dinner-table as I entered, and he had company. I observed amongst the guests an officer wearing the Spanish uniform, but I was not put out of countenance. I told the Abbe Grimani that I was only passing through Venice, and that I had felt it a duty and a pleasure to pay my respects to him. “I did not expect to see you in such a costume.” “I have resolved to throw off the garb which could not procure me a fortune likely to satisfy my ambition.” “Where are you going?” “To Constantinople; and I hope to find a quick passage to Corfu, as I have dispatches from Cardinal Acquaviva.” “Where do you come from now?” “From the Spanish army, which I left ten days ago.” These words were hardly spoken, when I heard the voice of a young nobleman exclaiming; “That is not true.” “The profession to which I belong,” I said to him with great animation, “does not permit me to let anyone give me the lie.” And upon that, bowing all round, I went away, without taking any notice of those who were calling me back. I wore an uniform; it seemed to me that I was right in showing that sensitive and haughty pride which forms one of the characteristics of military men. I was no longer a priest: I could not bear being given the lie, especially when it had been given to me in so public a manner. I called upon Madame Manzoni, whom I was longing to see. She was very happy to see me, and did not fail to remind me of her prediction. I told her my history, which amused her much; but she said that if I went to Constantinople I should most likely never see her again.