there had been a lot of work to be done for his employer, so that
they had to make use of the night. This was the only time he
needed the key for the front door. Usually, he was already back
at nightfall, only had some bread and wine, and put out his light
early, so that the good woman praised him all over the
neighbourhood as a paragon of hard labour and decent living. Only
one thing she complained about: that he would not conserve his
strength and that he, at his age, would not take part in any
permissable entertainment, which would cheer him up and prolong
his life. Whenever she talked like this, Marietta was quiet and
look down into her lap. As soon as the stranger was in his room,
she stopped singing, and quite generally gave the impression as
if, since the stranger's arrival, she had spend more time
pondering than she would previously have done in a year.
In the morning of the second Sunday which Andrea had spent in the
widow's house, the woman entered his room in a hurry with a
disturbed look on her face, dressed in her best clothes, just as
she had returned from church. He sat at the table, was not fully
dressed yet, and read in one of his prayer-books. His face was
paler than usually, but his eyes were calm, and it seemed as if he
disliked being disturbed in his meditation.
"What are you still sitting quietly in your room, Signore Andrea,"
she called out to him, "while all of Venice is up and about?
Hurry up and get dressed and go out into the street for yourself,
where you'll be able to see as many horror-stricken faces as there
are pieces of grain in a mill. Holy Jesus! That I've got to live
to see the day, and I've thought there was nothing else that could
happen in Venice to surprise me!"
"What are you talking about, good woman?" he asked in an
indifferent tone and put the book down.
She threw herself onto a chair and seemed to be very exhausted.
"All the way to the Piazzetta, the crowd has been pushing me," she
started again, "and there I saw the gentlemen of the Great Council
climbing in droves up the huge staircase in the court of the
Doges' Palace and the flags of mourning waving in the windows of
the Procurators' Offices. Will you believe it? Tonight, between
eleven and midnight, the most noble one of the three inquisitors
of the state, the venerable lord Lorenzo Venier, has been murdered
on the threshold of his own house."
"Has he lived to an old age?" Andrea asked calmly.
"Misericordia! The way you talk! As if he had merely died in his
bed. But of course, you're no Venetian and can't understand what
this means: a member of the inquisition has been murdered, one of
the tribunal. This is worse than if it had been a doge, of whom
many have come to an unnatural death, for the tribunal has the
power, and the doge has the robe. But the most horrible part of
it is this: engraved in the dagger they've found in the wound it
reads: `Death to all inquisitors'; all of them! Do you
understand, Signore Andrea? This isn't just some scoundrel being
payed by a bravo to do away with a single man, because he's
keeping him from a love affair, a powerful position, or something
else. `This is a political murder,' my neighbour the spicer told
me, `and there is a conspiracy behind it and henchmen and that
Angelo Querini with his followers.' He was rubbing his hands
while saying this, but I felt my heart shivering in my body, for I
don't want to say what I'm thinking, but I know: an evil deed is
like a cherry, once one of them has been shook off a tree, twenty
more will come after the first, and this blood will cost much more
blood."
"Don't they have any lead pointing to the murderer, Signoria
Giovanna? What good are those hundreds of spies, they are paying,
for the tribunal?"
"Not even the shadow of a lead," answered the widow. "It was a
dark night, the bora was blowing, and on the Grand Canal, which
runs by his palace, there were no gondolas at all. Then, all by
himself, he came home through one of the small alleys, and then,
that invisible hand struck him down, and he only lived long enough
to scare up the porter with his last sighs. Then, there was a
deadly silence throughout the alley, and nobody was in sight. But
I know what I know, Signore Andrea. Do you want me to tell you?
You're decent and good and won't pass it on to anybody else and
won't bring new hardship upon me: I know the hand which has
spilled this blood."
He looked at her firmly. "Talk," he said, "if you've got to get
it off your chest. I won't give you away."
"Don't you suspect anything?" she said, rising from her seat and
stepping up close to him: "Haven't I told you that there are many
who are alive and don't return and many who are dead and still
return? Do you know it now? He hasn't forgotten about them
who've dragged his wife and his child under the lead roofs and
tortured them. But, for God's sake, don't say a word about this!
If his spirit should have done it, the living would have to suffer
for it."
"And what reason do have to believe in this?"
She took a frightened look around the room. "You should know,"
she whispered, "this house was haunted tonight. I've heard
something rushing up and and down the walls, like the footsteps of
ghosts, I lay in bed and listened, and there was a noise, secretly
buzzing along the canal down below, and a rattling at your window,
and scared beasts scurried through the adjoining alley until long
past midnight. Only after the the bell had struck one o'clock, it
was quiet; I know just too well, who had disturbed them. He
came, after he had done it, to greet us, since we hadn't been able
to say farewell."
His head had dropped to his chest. Now, he got up and said that
he wanted to go out personally, in order to inquire what had
happened. He had, as she would know, gone to bed early and had
been particularly fast asleep, so that all of this fuss had not
disturbed him. And besides, she should keep it to herself, for it
was indeed dangerous to have received but a ghostly knowledge of
such a crime. - Having said this, he got dressed in a hurry and
went out into the city.
Agitated and busy crowds had gathered in the alleys, in a way
which was even unusual for important holidays of the republic.
Quietly, coming from the centre of the city, hasty groups of
curious people moved through the narrow streets towards the Piazza
San Marco, and whoever did not join them was at least standing by
the door of his house, exchanging meaningful gestures and looks
with acquaintances who were rushing by. It was plain to see that
something outrageous and horrible had both upset and stunned these
people, so that they were all following the general march without
an individual plan, most of all being eager to see the event with
their own eyes and to touch it with their hands. Nobody talked
aloud, nobody laughed, whistled, or sighed even audibly; it was
as if those honourable citizens felt the pile-work quaking, on
which the city of the lagoon had been built.
In a seemingly careless fashion, Andrea walked among the crowd,
his hat pulled deeply over his eyes, the hands placed on his back.
Now, he stepped out into the Piazza San Marco, where, in numerous
groups, all classes, intermingled with one another, had gathered
under the clear summer sky, while at the halls of the Procurators'
Offices the crowd streamed on, towards the Piazzetta, extending
out to the wide basin of the canal, which is dominated by the two
columns. The old Doges' Palace rose majestically above the
agitated crowd. Behind the arched windows and in the arcades,
weapons could be seen flashing in the sun, and a troop of soldiers
had taken their post by the entrance, forming a cordon and
presenting their arms to everyone who sought to enter the palace
without being a member of the Great Council. For upstairs, in the
wide hall, the walls of which are painted with the heroic deeds of
the republic, the highest ranks of the nobility sat together in a
secret meeting, and the people, shyly crowding down below past the
heavy pillars of the old building, seemed to wait impatiently for
the result of the meeting; whenever a nobile could be seen at a
window, they were all murmuring and pointing and staring up, as if
any moment, the verdict on the undiscovered perpetrator of this
sacrilegious crime would be pronounced from the balcony. Andrea,
who had crossed the long rectangle of this public place all by
himself, was now also approaching the Doges' Palace, and in
passing, he had a look inside the church of San Marco, where he
saw the people standing tightly packed, even outside the portal,
and listening to the sermon. Then, he managed to push his way
through the crowd, towards the two columns, and stood by the quay
of the Piazzetta, lost in gloomy thoughts, facing the busy
multitude of black gondolas, the jagged steel bows of which
reflected flashes of sunlight across the waves whenever they
turned about. The Riva degli Schiavoni, which was to his left,
was also densely crowed with people full of expectation. Behind a
Turk's turban appeared a red Greek fez, the picturesque cap of a
mariner from Chioggia, a triangular hat, or a powdered wig, and
likewise the various tongues could be heard chattering all
together, while the monotonous calls of the gondoliers, echoing
from the waterside, told even the blind that the Great Canal of
Venice flowed at their feet.
An open gondola, rowed by two servant wearing liveries with rich
golden embroidery, sped by; a lady lay casually on the wide
upholstery, her head resting on her hand. The fire of a large
diamond ring, flashed among the red shimmer of her hair; her eyes
were fixed on the face of a young man, sitting opposite to her,
who was eagerly talking to her. Now, she lifted her head up and,
with a proud look, examined the seething crowd on the Piazzetta
above. "This is the blond countess," Andrea heard some of the
people say; he had already recognised her from the start.
Shrinking back, as if her mere sight would incur doom, he turned
away and found himself looking at a familiar face, nodding at him
like an old friend. Samuele stood behind him.
"Did you also go out for a change, Signore Delfin?" the Jew
whispered to him in his thin voice. "In vain, I've sought to meet
Your Grace again in all those days since. Your live is more
secluded than that of a pregnant woman. If you'd like to come
with me to where my business is calling me, I could tell you
something which you might like to hear. Come! What are you
standing here for, like all those other fools, who believe the
Great Council would give birth to the salvation of the republic?
The rats in the ship won't make it afloat again, once it has run
aground. The real pilots have better things to do, now, than to
chat. But let's go away from here, I'm in a hurry, and we'll be
able to talk more comfortably in the gondola."
He hailed one of the taxi gondolas and pulled Andrea by the arm
along with him. They embarked and sat under the black roof,
having a full view of the canal to the left and the right through
the windows of the narrow cabin. "What do you have to tell me,
sir?" Andrea started. "And where are you taking me to?" "Don't
go to your notary tomorrow," said the Jew. "It might be possible
that someone might come for you, to send you on an errand which
would be more profitable for you."
"What are you talking about, Samuele?"
"You know what has happened last night," the other man continued.
"It's an outrage, that twelve hours have past since a murder in
Venice, and no lead has been found, yet, pointing to the
perpetrator. We have lost our credit with the signoria, with the
people, with the visitors from out of town, who used to believe
that the local police would perform miracles and have been
expecting some signs. The Council of Ten thinks that they are
getting a bad service. They'll look around for new eyes, which
would do a better job peering into all corners. Your eyes,
Signore Delfin, shall, if you're still thinking as you did ten
days ago, soon get to read a finer hand that your notary's.
Therefore, stay at home tomorrow morning. If there'll be
something and I'll be able to put a word in on your behalf, I'd be
glad."
"My mind is still unchanged; but I almost doubt in my abilities."
"Hush, hush!" said the other one and shook his index finger. "I'd
have to be a poor judge of a person's face, or you've got yours
under control, and he who's able to conceal what he's thinking has
already half guessed what kinds of thoughts others seek to
conceal."
"And who'll decide whether they'll be able to use me or not?"
"You must pass an examination by the tribunal; I can't do
anything more than tell them that I know you and that I regard you
as talented. Until tomorrow, I think, the tribunal will be
complete again; right now, the ten are sitting together and are
electing the third man. I can tell you, they could give me a lot
of money to become an inquisitor of the state - I would still
reject the honour. For the inscription on the dagger was not just
engraved to pass the boredom, and a soldier sitting on a mine
would eat his beard more calmly than one of the three rulers of
Venice since last night."
"Nevertheless, there's probably no doubt that the elected man will
take the office? Or is he allowed to refuse?"
"Refuse! Don't you know that the republic severely punishes
everyone who evades serving it?"
Andrea said nothing and watched the surface of the canal through
the hatch with a glum look. Many black gondolas, too numerous to
see them all, went into the same direction between the palaces,
and there were quite a few which came towards them from the
Rialto. Now, both groups met and crowded towards a wide flight of
stairs by the waterside, where they landed as quickly as they
could and put their passengers ashore. It was Venier Palace and
the dead man lay upstairs.
One look and Andrea know where they were. Using all of his
willpower, he kept his emotions under control and said: "Do you
have any business here, Samuele, or are you just curious to see a
murdered inquisitor lain out on his bed of state?"
"I'm on duty," replied the Jew. "But it could be useful for you
as well to come along. I'll introduce you to some of my friends,
for one out of ten here knows what he's looking for. But let's
pretend we wouldn't know each other. You know, I'd bet, that
there are probably quite a few of the conspirators among these
mournful faces. Who knows, perhaps the killer is just now
stepping out of one of these gondolas! He wouldn't be stupid in
believing that he was safer here than anywhere else. For I can
tell you: In this very moment, the police are searching those
houses which ever struck them as suspicious, while everyone has
gone out, and the proverb is true: The devil teaches to do it,
but not to conceal it."
With these words, he jumped out of gondola and was ready to assist
Andrea in getting out. "Do you feel uncomfortable seeing a dead
man?" he asked. "You aren't in very high spirits."
"You're mistaken, Samuele," Andrea answered quickly and looked
into his face, as if he could not care less. "It is rather that
I'm grateful to you for helping me to overcome my indolence. If
it wasn't for you, I would hardly be here. Let's go upstairs, to
call on this important gentleman, who would hardly have received
us while he was still alive. A stately domicile, which he has to
exchange for so very narrow quarters in such an untimely fashion!
I pity him indeed, though I've never laid eyes on him."
Walking side by side among the large crowd, they ascended the
staircase, shrouded in black, and looking down from its top, there
was the coat of arms of the house of Venier, dressed in crape,
commanding the crowd to silence in the absence of a porter.
Inside, in the largest hall, the catafalque had been set up under
a canopy, tall cypress-trees touched the ceiling high above,
candles on silver candelabra flickered as the air blew from the
water across the open balcony through the hall, and four servants
of the house of Venier, dressed in black velvet, with crapes
wrapped around their shiny halberds, were standing on guard like
statues at the four corners of the catafalque. The corpse had
been covered with a velvet blanket; the silver fringes touched
the floor. The first thing the people saw of the dead man as they
entered the hall was his sharp profile with an angry and sad
expression, his closed eye turned towards the canopy. Andrea
recognised these features. In that night in Leonora's room, he
had firmly committed them to memory. But no twitch of his mouth
nor of his eyes, which were keenly fixed on the dead man, revealed
that the avenger was facing his victim. -
One hour later, Andrea came home. Signora Giovanna received him
at the top of the stairs with an almost motherly concern, and
Marietta also seemed to have been anxiously expecting him. They
told him that the sbirri had been searching his room in his
absence, but had found everything to be all right, matching the
favourable testimony which she, the landlady, had personally given
concerning her lodger. The calm manner in which Andrea listed to
her report assured her completely that her fear had been
unnecessary and that the visit from the police had been a
formality rather than anything else. The good woman impressed
numerous warnings and precautions on him, how he had to talk and
act to stay clear of any suspicion in these evil times. "They'll
even tighten their control," the old woman sighed, "for they know
very well: A gloved cat won't catch any mice, and that's also a
true saying, that the dead shall make the living see. Therefore,
be careful, dear sir, and trust no one who'd approach you. You
don't know the worst kinds of people yet, how kind-hearted they
can pretend to be, but believe in me: For someone to double-cross
you, you've got to trust him first. You'd better not eat at an
inn, but let us prepare for you at home whatever we can. You're
looking exhausted. Rest on the bed for a while; you aren't
accustomed to walking around."
During all of this speech, Marietta gave him imploring looks and,
standing next to her mother, stared in his pale, serious face. He
assured them that he was well, asked for bread and wine, and,
after it had been brought to him, was not seen for the rest of the
day.
Early in the next morning, when he was still lying in bed, Samuele
entered his room. "If you're interested," he said, "to pocket at
least fourteen ducats a month, so come with me; all has been
arranged, and I think you won't go there in vain."
"Has the new inquisitor of the state been elected yet?" asked
Andrea.
"So it seems."
"And no lead on the conspiracy yet?"
"No lead yet. The shock among the aristocracy is great. They
lock themselves into their houses and suspect every visitor to be
a spy of the Ten or of the tribunal. One after another of the
foreign ambassadors has called on the doge, made the most solemn
assurances of his outrage about the crime, and offered his help in
the discovery of the perpetrator. From now on, the three men of
the tribunal will be even more secretive about their identities
than before, and, as I believe, a price shall be put on the
murderer's head, which would put a poor devil in the money for
quite a number of years. Keep your eyes open, Signore Andrea!
Perhaps, we'll both soon drink a better wine together, than at
that time in that tavern!"
Without a word, Andrea had dressed, and was now following his
benefactor, who was incessantly chatting, to the Doges' Palace.
Samuele was well known here. He knocked at an inconspicuous door
in the yard, whispered a word into the ear of the servant who
opened it, and politely let Andrea walk ahead of him up a small
staircase. After they had walked through a long, almost dark
passage upstairs, and had answered to several men bearing
halberds, they were shown into a not so big chamber with a window,
which opened onto the yard and was half covered by a dark curtain.
In the back of the room, three men paced up and down, whispering
to one another, their faces covered by masks, under which only the
tips of their beards stuck out. A fourth man, without a mask, sat
at a table and wrote by the light of a single candle.
He looked up, when Samuele appeared with Andrea on the threshold.
It seemed as if the three others were not paying any attention
to the visitors, but were rather busy in continuing their
conversation.
"You're bringing the stranger, you told us about?" the secretary
asked.
"Yes, Your Grace."
"You may leave, Samuele."
The Jew bowed obediently and left the room.
After a pause, during which the secretary of the tribunal had
looked through some papers, which were lying in front of him, and
then had checked out the appearance of the stranger with a long
look, he said: "Your name is Andrea Delfin; are you related to
the Venetian nobili of the same name?"
"Not that I know of. My family resided in Brescia for as long as
anybody can remember."
"You're living at the Calle della Cortesia with Giovanna Danieli;
you're wishing to enter the service of the exalted Council of
Ten."
"I wish to devote my services to the republic."
"Your papers from Brescia are in order. The advocate, for whom
you've worked for five years, recommends you as an intelligent and
reliable man. Only concerning the six or seven years before you
came to him, there is no document whatsoever. What have you been
up to in that long time, after your parents had died? You haven't
spent it in Brescia?"
"No, Your Grace," Andrea replied calmly. "I was in foreign
countries, in France, Holland, and Spain. After I had spent my
small inheritance, I reluctantly had to become a servant."
"Your references?"
"They've been stolen from me, having been in a suitcase which
contained all of my possessions. After this, I was tired of the
unsafe life of a traveller and went back to Brescia. My employers
had found me suited for all kinds of secretarial work. I tried my
luck with an advocate, and you can see the reference for yourself,
Your Grace, attesting that I've learned to work."
While he was saying this, in a quiet, submissive posture, his head
slightly bent forward and holding the hat in both hands, suddenly
one of the three masked gentlemen stepped closer to the table, and
Andrea felt a piercing look directed at him.
"What's your name?" asked the inquisitor with a voice revealing
his old age.
"Andrea Delfin. My papers prove it."
"Consider that it means your death if you betray the exalted
tribunal. Think about the answer once again. What if I'd now say
that your name was Candiano?"
A short pause followed this word, the larvae of the
deathwatch-beetle could be heard digging through the timber-work
of the room. Eight scrutinising eyes were fixed on the stranger.
"Candiano?" he said slowly, but with a firm voice. "Why should I
be called Candiano? I'd truly wish for it myself; because, as
far as I know, the Candiano family is rich and noble, and whoever
bears this name doesn't need to earn his bread laboriously with
the pen."
"You've got a Candiano's face. Furthermore, your manners point to
a better upbringing than what these papers attest."
"My face is not my fault, exalted gentlemen," replied Andrea with
decent openness. As far as my manners are concerned, I have seen
all kinds of customs on my travels and improved my own as much as
I could; I also haven't wasted any time in Brescia, but rather
used books to catch up on what I had missed in my youth."
By now, the two other inquisitors had stepped closer to that first
one, and one of them, whose red beard stuck out widely from under
the mask, said in a low voice: "A resemblance, which I would not
want to deny, might deceive you. But you know for yourself: The
branch of the family which used to reside near Marano has died
out; the old man has been buried in Rome, the sons did not
outlive him for long."
"This may be," replied the first one. "But look at him and say,
whether it isn't just as if old Luigi Candiano had risen from his
grave, only being rejuvenated. I've known him well enough; we've
been elected to the senate on the same day."
He took the papers from the table and examined them carefully.
"You may be right," he finally said. "The age wouldn't be match
up. He's too old to be one of Luigi's sons. If he had fathered
him before his marriage - we would be able to ignore it."
He threw the papers back on the table, gave the secretary a sign,
and stepped back to the window's niche with the others, quietly
continuing the interrupted conversation. Nobody could read from
Andrea's eyes what a burden had, in this moment, fallen off his
soul. The secretary started again. "You understand foreign
languages?" he asked.
"I speak French and a little German, Your Grace."
"German? Where have you learned this?"
"A German painter in Brescia has been a good friend of mine."
"Have you ever been to Triest?"
"For two months, Your Grace, doing business for my employer, the
advocate."