Then the two rascally servants said that if I would not be surety in the
same manner on their account, they would have Medini arrested. However,
Medini called out to me to pay no attention to them whatever.

When I had given the vetturino his acknowledgment and paid the four or
five crowns charged by the police, Medini told me that he had more to say
to me; but I turned my back on him, and went home to dinner.

Two hours later one of his servants came to me and promised if I would
give him six sequins to warn me if his master made any preparations for
flight.

I told him drily that his zeal was useless to me, as I was quite sure
that the count would pay all his debts within the term; and the next
morning I wrote to Medini informing him of the step his servant had
taken. He replied with a long letter full of thanks, in which he exerted
all his eloquence to persuade me to repair his fortunes. I did not
answer.

However, his good genius, who still protected him, brought a person to
Florence who drew him out of the difficulty. This person was Premislas
Zanovitch, who afterwards became as famous as his brother who cheated the
Amsterdam merchants, and adopted the style of Prince Scanderbeck. I shall
speak of him later on. Both these finished cheats came to a bad end.

Premislas Zanovitch was then at the happy age of twenty-five; he was the
son of a gentleman of Budua, a town on the borders of Albania and
Dalmatia, formerly subject to the Venetian Republic and now to the Grand
Turk. In classic times it was known as Epirus.