Who would remain at home on the evening of Shrove-Tuesday?
The lonely rooms grew too confined for him.
Quiet days would begin early the next morning, and on Saturday a new, fruitful life in the service of the only true word, Art, divine Art, would commence for him.

He would enjoy this one more evening of pleasure, this night of joy; drain it to the dregs.

He fancied he had won a right that day to taste every bliss earth could give.
Torches, pitch-pans and lamps made the square of St.Mark's as bright as day, and the maskers crowded upon its smooth pavement as if it were the floor of an immense ball-room.
Intoxicating music, loud laughter, low, tender whispers, sweet odors from the floating tresses of fair women bewildered Ulrich's senses, already confused by success and joy.

He boldly accosted every one, and if he suspected that a fair face was concealed under a mask, drew nearer, touched the strings of a lute, that hung by a purple ribbon round his neck, and in the notes of a tender song besought love.
Many a wave of the fan rewarded, many an angry glance from men's dark eyes rebuked the bold wooer.

A magnificent woman of queenly height now passed, leaning on the arm of a richly-dressed cavalier.
Was not that the fair Claudia, who a short time before had lost enormous sums at the gaming-table in the name of the rich Grimani, and who had invited Ulrich to visit her later, during Lent?
It was, he could not be mistaken, and now followed the pair like a shadow, growing bolder and bolder the more angrily the cavalier rebuffed him with wrathful glances and harsh words; for the lady did not cease to signify that she recognized him and enjoyed his playing.