gift, which he had wrapped in a piece of paper, with both of her
hands. "Hey, what a good taste you've got! And still you've said
you were poor? Do you know that today I'm particularly in need of
some joy? We had to bear a lot during the day, the countess is in
a bad mood. Her lover, young Gritti, the senator's son, has
shunned her for a full twenty-four hours. She has sent servants
to his house; and there he had also gone missing, and they
believe that the tribunal had secretly picked him up and taken him
prisoner. My countess is beside herself, she's receiving no
callers, she's lying on her sofa and weeping like an insane woman,
and she has hit me when I tried to comfort her."
"You've no idea what the young man has been accused of?"
"Not in the least, sir. I'd furthermore vow to remain a virgin
forever, if he had even the slightest plot against the state on
his mind. Good heavens, he was just barely twenty-three, and he
had his heart set on nothing else but my countess and perhaps also
gambling. But those gentlemen of the inquisition know how to turn
cobweb into a rope, strong enough to strangle the strongest
throat, and who'd know whether it isn't, this time, only directed
against his father, the senator!"
"Speak more carefully of the highest authorities of this city,"
Andrea said quietly. "They've been appointed by the wisdom of the
forefathers, and the foolishness of the grand-children shall not
touch them."
The girl looked at him to find out whether he had spoken in
earnest; it was not easy to solve the enigma of his features.
"Stop it," she said, "you're getting serious, and I won't have it.
You haven't been here for a long time yet; therefore, you're
respecting the old dignitaries, pronouncing and executing their
death sentences, who might seem very dignified when viewed from a
distance or as a painting. But I've already seen them several
times at close range, at the faro table, when my countess was
keeping bank, and I can tell you, they are also just as human as
Adam was."
"This may be so, dear girl," he answered, "but they have the
power, and it is not a smart thing for a poor citizen like myself
to do, to have such an incriminating conversation here through an
open window. If the news should be spread to bad houses that the
two of us regarded the justice incarnate of Venice as nothing
better than a handful of mortal human beings, you, my dear
Smeraldina, will be protected by the magic of your beauty; but
I'll go the well-known path into a watery grave or will at least
exchange my quarters in the Calle della Cortesia for a much more
modest chamber in the wells [1] or under the lead roofs."
[1] The prisons under the bottom of the sea.
"Here, you can talk as you please," said the chamber-maid; "there
are only a few windows opening onto the canal, and nobody has any
business there at this time of day. Over on your side, there is
now nothing but the bare wall; because whoever can afford a
better place wouldn't choose our murky sewage down there for a
mirror. But do you know what I'm thinking? You should come over
here for an hour or so; this would surely make our chat more
comfortable, and a glass of wine, good muscatel from Samos, and a
game of tarock would very much sooth my nerves after the countess
having slapped me."
"I'd like to come," he said, "but it would be noticed, and my
landlady would hardly let me back in after midnight."
"Not like this," the maid laughed. "Such a roundabout way isn't
necessary. I've got a board here, which we can, without much
trouble, use to build a bridge. After all, we could reach out for
each other's hands across the canal; why shouldn't our feet do
the same? Or do you get dizzy?"
"No, beautiful friend. Just wait a moment, and I'll be ready."
Andrea put out the light, bolted the door of his room, listened
whether they were all asleep in the house, and then he went back
to the window. Smeraldina seemed to be experienced in building
these kinds of bridges, for the board was at hand and, in a few
moments, the firm path was bridging the chasm, resting evenly and
safely on the ledge on both sides, being just barely wide enough
to support a man. She stood on the other side, happily waving at
him. Swiftly, he climbed onto the ledge, stepped onto the board,
assessing the depth with firm eyes, and with a single, calm step,
he had reached the window on the other side. She caught him in
her arms as he jumped down, and her lips touched his cheek. But
he preferred to put on a shy face and to pretend as if the
closeness of his girl-friend gave him the feeling of being
confined into the bounds of reverence, to which she reacted with
some astonishment. The board was pulled back in, the cards and
the wine were taken from the cupboard, and a table was pushed in
front of the opened window, by which the strange couple took their
seats, conversing in confidence. During all of this, the girl
kept on wearing the red turban, which had, while she was building
the bridge, slanted a bit to the back of her head, and she had
pinned Andrea's present, the filigree, daintily to her breast.
She was just helping herself to her second glass of wine and was
scolding her guest for drinking so slowly and not really getting
into the spirit of it at all, when a bell was forcefully rung
inside the house.
"Look," said the girl, getting up and throwing the cards away in
anger, "that's my life; I never have a quiet hour! First, she
sends me away, saying that she'd want to undress alone tonight,
and now she's disturbing me at such a late time. But be patient
for just ten minutes, my friend; I'll be back with you right
away."
She slipped out, and he seemed to try to get over his loneliness.
He stepped to the window and took a keen look at the wall on the
other side between his window and the canal. It was not more than
about twenty feet high; almost everywhere, the limestone was
weathered due to the dampness, and the bare stones were rough
enough to enable him to climb up at them, if needs be. Under the
maid's room, as he had already noticed on the first evening, some
stairs extended down to the water, and there was a small gondola
chained to the high pole on the side, so that a second gondola
would only barely be able to pass by. All of this visibly
satisfied him.
"I wouldn't have been able to arrange it better for my purposes,"
he mumbled to himself.
Lost in thought, he looked down the canal, flowing between its
steep, windowless banks of houses in perfect darkness. Then, he
saw a faint shimmer of light at its very end downstream, moving
closer, and, after a while, he heard the sound of oars striking
the water. A gondola slowly came closer and stopped down below at
the stairs. Carefully, the observer above leaned back, to avoid
being noticed, but was still able to see with half a glance that a
man rose from his seat and stepped onto the stairs. The knocker
below sounded with three heavy blows, and soon afterwards, he
heard a voice inside the house, asking from behind the door who
would wish to enter.
"In the name of the exalted Council of Ten," was the answer, "open
up!"
The servant below instantly obeyed, and the waterfront entrance
closed again, after the nightly visitor had passed through.
Shortly afterwards, Smeraldina returned to her chamber, excited,
without her turban, and with blushed cheeks. "Did you hear this?"
she whispered. "Oh God, they'll take our countess away, they'll
strangle her, or drown her, and who'll then pay me the six months'
wages she owes me?"
"Rest assured," tender-hearted girl, he said swiftly. "As long as
you've good friends, you won't be left on your own. But you'd be
doing me a favour, if you'd want to hide me somewhere, where I
could hear what the high council wants with your mistress. I
confess, that I'm curious, as a stranger may very well be.
Furthermore, I might be able to help you and the countess, since
I'm working for an advocate and, if things are turning towards a
public indictment, I'd like to offer my humble services."
She thought about it. "I'd know an easy way to do it," she said.
"The place is safe, and I've been sitting there myself several
times, not trusting my ears. But if it would nevertheless be
discovered?"
"Then, I'll take all the blame on myself, my love, and no one will
find out by which way I had gained entrance into the house.
Look," he continued, "here are three zecchini, just in case I
won't be able to thank you afterwards. But if all goes well, you
shall see that I'll be happy to share what little possessions I've
got left with such a clever friend."
Without any ado, she put the gold into her pocket, swiftly opened
the door, and listened out into the dark corridor. "Take your
shoes off," she whispered, "give me your hand and don't hesitate
to follow me to wherever I'll go. Inside the house, they are all
asleep, except for the porter."
She put out her light and scurried ahead, through the corridor,
pulling him along by his hand. They stepped through several
large, dark chambers; then, the girl opened the door of a
ball-room, which was faintly lit by the dusky light coming in
through three high windows in the front side of the palace. On
one side, a narrow staircase went up to the estrade where the
musicians would play. "Walk softly!" the girl warned, "the stairs
creak a little. I'm leaving you alone here. Up there, you'll
find a crack between the panels, through which you'll be able to
see and hear sufficiently well. For the reception-room of the
countess is right behind this wall. When the visitor will be
gone, I'll come back to get you. But don't you stir from this
spot, before I'll come."
Thus, she left him alone, and without hesitation, he climbed up
the few steps and softly groped his way along the wall, heading
for the strip of light, which came through the narrow crack. The
large room was separated from the next chamber only by a wooden
wall, since, in times of greater splendour, both rooms had formed
a single, large festive hall. The shimmering light came from a
silver chandelier, which stood below on the table in front of the
countess's couch, and cast the portraits on the wall only in a
flickering light. Andrea had to get down on his knees, to be able
to look down into the room. But however uncomfortable this
position was, many would surely have liked to take his place,
though they would have cared less for what he got to hear than for
what there was to see.
Even though the chamber-maid was right, saying that her mistress
was in the habit of using a lot of make-up, she probably did so
more for the sake of fashion, than because she would have had to
to be regarded as beautiful. She sat on the couch, dressed as if
she had not expected such a late caller, the extremely ample hair,
with a slight touch of red in its colour, was loosened and
unstyled; since she had wept, her eyes were glistening
wonderfully, with traces of her tears still being visible on her
full, pale cheeks. The man, sitting opposite to her in an
armchair and turning his back to Andrea, seemed to observe her
keenly; at least, he moved his head not very often and listened
to even the harshest words of the beautiful woman, without
interrupting her with a single gesture.
"Indeed," the countess said, and her features expressed the same
painful bitterness as the tone of her voice, "I'm truly astonished
that you still dare to show your face in here, after having
violated your most solemn promises in such a shameful manner. Did
I perform so many a service for you, just to have you treat me
with such cruelty, such hostility, now? Where have you put him,
my poor friend, the only one I cared about, and whom you've
promised to spare under all circumstances? Was there no one but
him, to satisfy your desire to fill the void in your prisons? And
what incriminating evidence have you found against him, what sin
has he committed against the mighty republic, for which there was
no lesser punishment than exile, and none other which would have
been less hard on me? For I had openly admitted to you that I had
set my heart on him, and that whoever would but hurt a hair on his
head would be my enemy. Return him to me, or I'll cut off all
ties with you, once and for all, and I'll leave Venice, to seek my
friend in exile, and make you feel how much you've lost by this
betrayal, this shameful act. Oh, how could I ever allow myself to
become the instrument of your schemes!"
"You're forgetting, countess," said the man, "that we've got means
to prevent your escape, and that, even if it would be successful,
our arm is long and strong enough to be your ruin, wherever you
might have thought you had found a refuge. Young Gritti has
deserved his punishment. In spite of the warning we had given
him, he has kept in steady contact with the secretary of the
Austrian ambassador, a young man with knowledge of very
confidential matters. The laws of Venice prohibit such a contact
most strictly, as you know well enough. Furthermore, a letter by
Angelo Querini has been intercepted, in which the careless young
man is mentioned with some praise. It was a fatherly disciplinary
measure to send him into exile, before he became even more guilty.
But at the same time, we know what we owe you, Leonora. And
therefore, I've been sent to you, to give you this information and
some advice, how you, if you're reasonable, could repair the
damage."
"I'm tired," she said harshly, "of listening to your orders. This
day has shown me that it'll be my ruin, sooner or later, if I
should put my trust in you and delude myself into believing that
for all of my sacrifices for your interests, I would ever get any
thanks, or even be protected from but the basest of insults and
humiliations. I don't need you; I don't want anything from you;
it's all over between me and the high government, who casts
friends as well as enemies aside with equally little
consideration."
"Too bad," he interjected, "that you're still needed, that you're
still supposed to do something, and that, therefore, it can't be
over between us for now. You'll understand, Leonora, that there
would be some objections against letting you, knowing about so
many secrets of the republic, travel into foreign countries, where
you might soon succumb to the wide-spread fad of our time to write
your memoirs. Venice and you are inseparably connected, and you
have sufficiently proven that you possess a high intelligence,
taming your female whims, so that it won't take elaborate
persuasion to reconcile you once again with Venice."
"I don't want ho hear anything about a reconciliation!" she
exclaimed passionately, and, once again, tears came to her eyes.
"And what good would it do, if I wanted to? I'm good for nothing,
I'm unable to grasp even the simplest thought, as long as I don't
have my poor Gritti."
"You shall have him, Leonora. But not right away, since his
sudden return would foil our plan."
"And for how long shall I be patient?" she asked, regarding him
with a deploring look.
"This depends on you," he replied. "How long will it take for you
to make a young man lie at your feet, who previously enjoyed the
reputation of a paragon of virtue?"
A hint of curiosity and interest became noticeable in her
features, which, just a moment ago, had expressed nothing but pain
and desperation. "Whom are you talking about?" she asked.
"That German, who was a friend of Gritti, the secretary of the
minister from Vienna. You know him?"
"I've seen him at the last regatta. Gritti pointed him out to
me."
"His master is a zero and he's the number one in front of it. We
have reason to believe that he's secretly recruiting a large
following among our opponents and is seeking to exploit, for the
benefit of his sovereign, the discontent which the actions of
Querini have left behind. He's unusually cunning. Out of the
four observers, which we have taken on our pay-roll from among the
ambassador's own men, not a single one has delivered even the
smallest evidence into our hands yet. The inquisitors are placing
all of their confidence in you, Leonora, that you'll find the key
to this well locked mind, as you have already successfully done
several times before. There was no hope for this, as long as
Gritti was in the way. His exile smoothens the path and, at the
same time, provides the pretext for you to approach this
inaccessible man, who will now surely be moved to greater
compassion towards his friend's girl-friend than before, since
you're both mourning the same loss. The rest, I'll leave up to
the power of your charms, which were never more irresistible than
when they met with resistance."
She thought about it for a while. Her face became brighter, her
eyes gained a daring, proud expression, her beautiful, full mouth
opened a bit, and an absent-minded smile wandered across her lips.
"You'll promise," she finally said, "that Gritti will be called
back right away, as soon as I've surrendered the other one to
you?"
"We promise."
"If that's so, it shall not be long, until I'll demand the
fulfilment of your promise." She got up and threw away the
handkerchief, which had become wet from the tears she had cried in
the course of the day. From his hiding-place, Andrea could only
observe her pacing up and down the room for a stretch of the way,
since the crack was too narrow to get a full view of the room. He
admired her royal posture, while she, as if contemplating new
victories, walked slowly across the carpet of the chamber, her
eyes wide open, her hair thrown back from her white temples. A
strange feeling startled him, when her gaze, aimlessly looking
about the upper part of the wall, brushed past him.
Involuntarily, he shrunk back, as if it had been possible for her
to discover him.
The man sitting in the armchair below got up, but seemed to be
immune to her charms, for he continued in the most calm and
business-like tone: "The nuncio has frequented your house less
often in recent times. You've been to candid about your worldly
tendencies, gambling in particular has taken too much room here.
We would appreciate it, if you'd, once again, feel some spiritual
needs and renew your once so busy acquaintance with his Eminence.
For some time, the close relations of the papalists with France
have become alarming."
"You can count on me," she replied.
"One more thing, Leonora. The money we still owe you for the
supper with Candiano..."
She was petrified, as if she had been bitten by a snake, and
suddenly turned pale. "By all saints," she said, "not a word
about this, never mention it again, and donate the rest of the
money to the church, they shall say Mass for his soul and - for
mine. Whenever this name is mentioned, I always feel like hearing
a trumpet of judgement day."
"You're a child," said the man. "The responsibility for this
supper is ours, not yours. He was a criminal, and only his
connections and the respect he got obliged us to execute the
sentence in secret. He has died quietly in his bed, and no one
was ever able to say that he had brought death with him, when he
left your house. Or have you heard anything of the kind?"
She shivered and looked to the ground. "No," she said. "But at
night, I'm awakened by a voice, whispering it to me. Oh! If I
only hadn't done this one thing, not this one thing!"
"This is a passing delusion, Leonora; you'll get over it. I just
wanted to tell you this one thing: the money is waiting for you
at Marchesi's. Good night, countess. I see that I've already
used too much of your time. Sleep tight, and tomorrow, don't
cloud the sun of your beauty, but let it rise on the just as well
as the unjust. Good night, Leonora!"
He made a little bow towards her and walked towards the door.
Just briefly, Andrea was able to see his face while he left. His
features were cold, but not hard, a face without a soul, without
passions, only the expression of a powerful will governed the
forehead and his eyebrows. He put on a mask and threw the black
cloak, which he had left at the entrance, around his shoulders.
Then, he left the chamber, without waiting for her goodbye.
In this very moment, Andrea heard the girl's voice down below in
the large room, quietly calling him to come down. He obeyed,
after having had one last glance at the beautiful woman, who was
still standing motionlessly in the middle of the chamber and was
staring pensively at the door, through which the man had left.
Unsteadily, like a man who had suffered a stroke, he descended
from the estrade and followed, without speaking a single word, the
girl who was leading the way with swift, but quiet, steps. In her
chamber, the light had been lit again, the wine was still on the
small table by the window, and nothing seemed to prevent them from
continuing their interrupted game. But a frightening shadow had
come across the man's face, which even intimidated Smeraldina's
levity and quenched all of her hopes for this night.
"You're looking," she said, "as if you had seen ghosts. Come on,
have a glass of wine and tell me what has happened. After all,
they talked much more calmly than we had feared."
"Oh, certainly," he said, forcing himself to seem unemotional.
"Your mistress is very much in their favour, and there is even a
chance that you'll soon be payed the wages she still owes you.
Otherwise, they were talking so quietly that I understood only a
little, and now, I'm more than anything else very tired from
kneeling on those hard boards. Next time, I'll appreciate your
wine more, my dear girl. But tonight, I must sleep."
"You haven't even told me, whether you're thinking that she's just
as beautiful as all the other people say she is," said the girl
and tried to pout at her ungrateful, uncommunicative friend.
"As beautiful as an angel or a devil," he mumbled through his
teeth. "I thank you, Madamigella, for enabling me to see her.
Another time, I'll be good and stay with you, since I've suffered
plenty tonight for my curiosity. Good night!"
He leaped up onto the ledge and stepped onto the board, which she
had reluctantly put back over the chasm. Standing up there, he
looked downstream along the canal, where in the distance, the
gondola's light was just now disappearing. "Good night!" he
called out to her once more, before carefully descending from the
board into his room, while Smeraldina dismantled the bridge and
endeavoured in vain to explain how the strangers unusual
behaviour, his poverty, his generosity, his gray hair, and his
lust for adventure would fit together.
One week passed, without Smeraldina seeing any particular
consolidation in her relationship with her neighbour, whom she had
thought she had conquered. Only once, after having got the porter
on her side, she let him in through the door at night and, wearing
a mask, conducted him to the small door on the waterside and
entered the gondola with him, which he personally propelled
through the dark labyrinth with slow strokes of the oar, in order
to finally float along openly on a Great Canal for an entire hour.
In spite of the good opportunity, he was not in a loving mood this
time either, while she was constantly chatting and was trying to
amuse him with tales from the world of the high society, in which
the countess played her part. He was told that for the last few
days, the secretary of the Austrian embassy had been paying long
visits to her mistress, at which, undoubtedly, they were both
discussing how they could go about affecting a withdrawal of young
Gritti's exile. She said that the countess was in a better mood
than ever and had given her generous gifts. Andrea seemed to
listen to this only with half an ear and to concentrate solely on
steering the gondola. Thus, even the girl had no objections when
her taciturn companion turned the boat around and, on the most
direct course, directed it back home. Without making a sound, he
pushed the narrow vessel close to the pole, attached the chain
after they had disembarked, and asked for the key, in order to
lock it. She gave it to him and had already gone through the
door when he called out to her that, in this haste, the small key
had slipped out of his hand and had fallen into the canal. She
was actually upset about this, but in her usual, light-hearted
manner she comforted her friend, saying that a second key would be
likely to be found in the house, and this time, he could not help
but bid his farewell to her by giving her a casual kiss on the
cheek, when she let him out at midnight through the main portal of
the palace.