The
custode said that he believed they could not, but I bade him be silent
and begone. "Wretched Venetian," I cried at him, "thou art incapable of
comprehending anything but victuals. If I tell thee that I have
lacerated an angel and deserve the sword, thou speakest of my skill in
fence! I waste my breath upon thee. Comfort the lady, dost thou dare to
say? What comfort can she have but in my repentance? What have I to
offer but devotion?"
"It is just that which I advise your honour-" he began, but I was now
embarked upon the waters of adventure, cheered with the prospect of
action, impatient to begin my voyage. Astonishment cropped his period
midway; he gaped as he saw what I did. I threw upon the floor my sword
and finely laced coat; I threw my vest, ruffles, cravat, watch, rings,
after them. I kicked into a corner with my foot my buckled shoes, my
silk stockings, my fine gilt garters. Upon the top of the heap I cast my
Paris hat, my gloves and brooch. "There lies," I said, "the sinful husk
of Francis Strelley. Let the swine nozzle and rout in it for what they
can find to their liking. And here," I cried, standing before him in
shirt and breeches, barefooted, bareheaded, without a coat to my back,
"here, good man, stands the naked soul of that same Francis, which shall
go shivering forth to declare his shame, to meet his penance, to stand
begging at the door of the Holy Place for the mercy which he has shown
himself unworthy of.
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