palace, the brightly lit windows of which were facing the unevenly
shaped square. There was no moon in the cloudy sky, presaging an
early autumn, and the few people who were still in the streets,
wrapped themselves in their short coats. Andrea, as he was
standing there and waiting to be admitted, thought of that night
when another Candiano had crossed this threshold to come to his
death. His mind shivered with horror. His hand, which was soon
afterwards seized in an intimate way by the chamber-maid opening
the door, was cold.
She showed him to her room, but, no matter how much she urged him,
it was impossible for him to eat and drink, though she had
ransacked the kitchen of her mistress and put aside some of the
most exquisite delicacies for her friend. He excused this by
blaming his sickness, and she accepted it, since he did not refuse
losing a few ducats to her in a game of tarock. Furthermore, he
had brought her a present, so that she could get over the fact
that tonight she again found him to be a lover who was so little
talkative and forthcoming. She ate and drank just the more
eagerly, played all kinds of jokes, and gave him the names of the
young Venetians who had come to the countess to gamble.
"There, things are done so very differently than with us," she
said; "the gold isn't counted, but a full fistful of coins is
betted on one card. Would you like to have a look at them? After
all, you already know the secret path."
"You're referring to the crack in the wall? But aren't they in
the large hall?"
"No, in the room of the countess. The hall is only used for the
big galas during the carnival."
He briefly thought about it. It could only be desirable for him
to expand his knowledge of the persons belonging to the
aristocracy. "Show me there," he said. "I'll soon have enough of
it and not be disloyal to you for a long time."
"Just don't fall in love with my countess," she threatened.
"Concerning jealousy, I'm dead serious, and unfortunately, there
are some who think that my mistress was more beautiful than me."
He tried to reply in the same tone; and making jokes, they left
the room. Outside, they came across several footmen wearing
liveries, who did not seem to object against the man who was with
the girl. They carried silver bowls and plates and did not use
the path to the large hall. This path was unlit just as the first
time; but the mood next door was more cheerful and animated, and
Andrea hardly recognised the chamber, after having taken his
uncomfortable post as a spy on the platform above. The mirrors at
the walls reflected the light from the candles about a hundred
times over and over, and their golden frames caught sidelights and
hurled their reflections high up to the ceiling. But amidst all
of this, the jewels of beautiful Leonora were sparkling, and
Andrea clearly recognised around her neck the necklace with the
ruby lock, which his German friend had bought from Samuele. The
gem lay like a stain of blood on her white breast. But her eyes
looked tiredly and indifferently at the cards, and whenever she
glanced at the faces of the young men, it was plain to see that no
one of them could capture her interest. And yet, the guests did
their best to be courteous. They made the most humorous remarks
when placing their bets and lost their gold more swiftly than
their high spirits. One of them, who seemed to have lost
everything already, sat in an armchair between two mirrors and
sang sad barcaroles while playing the lute. Another one, who was
taking a break from winning, threw his golden coins at the carpet,
trying to hit certain parts of the pattern, and forgot to pick the
zecchini, which were rolling away, back up. Among them, servants
were walking in and out with ice-cream and fruits, and a small
Bolognese dog had a friendly conversation with a large, green
parrot, which, sitting on its golden perch, occasionally called
out funny swear-words in good Venetian to the company. The spy on
the the musicians' platform already wanted to retreat again,
because the sight he looked down on aroused the most uncomfortable
feelings in him, when suddenly, a tall figure was stepping through
the folding-door into the gambling room, who was greeted by
everyone present with astonishment. It was a rather aged
gentleman, who nevertheless still carried his white head high on
his shoulders and also had nothing of an old man in the way he
walked. With a swift glance, he inspected the young men, bowed
slightly to the countess, and asked them not to let his presence
disturb them.
"You're asking too much, Ser Malapiero," replied the countess.
"The respect these young men have for the services which you have
performed for the republic by sea and by land doesn't permit us to
proceed in your presence to kill time in such a sinful fashion."
"You're mistaken, beautiful Leonora," the old man responded. "I
have retired from the public service and not even attended the
meetings of the Great Council for years, just because the respect
of the young people was a nuisance to me and I longed for
carefree, cheerful company. But who would nowadays want to open
his heart under the influence of wine, when there is a member of
the Council of Ten or even an inquisitor of the state sitting with
him at the table? In such an office, a man ages more swiftly, and
I'm planning to continue belying my white hair for quite a while
and to be at least young when I'm having my wine, though I'm
feeling my years in the presence of beauty."
"As far as your courtesy is concerned, you can surely still
compete with these young gentlemen," said Leonora, "who would
think that it only took a daintily curled blond or black beard to
obtain the right to kiss every beautiful, female mouth. But I
want to have the wine table carried in, to welcome my rare guest
by drinking to his health."
"Forgive me, my charming friend. I haven't come to impose on your
hospitality. I was only driven here by the wish to bring you the
news of your brother without delay, which have reached me tonight
by means of a courier from Genua. They are of such a happy nature
that I don't fear that they might diminish the cheerfulness of our
beautiful hostess and that I'm sure of your forgiveness when I'm
depriving these noble gentlemen for a few moments of your company.
May I enter this room with you?" he said, pointing to the door to
the dark hall, towards which he had taken a few steps.
Andrea startled. He realised that he could not leave his place
swiftly and noiselessly enough to sneak away unnoticed. And the
door to the hall was already opening, and he heard the dress of
the countess rustling in. He quickly decided to lay down flat on
the floor of the high estrade, the balustrade of which, though it
was very low, still covered him completely in this position. He
heard the steps of the old man following Leonora and him answering
"No" to the question whether a candlestick should be brought in.
"I've got only two words to say to her," Malapiero exclaimed
turning back to the gambling room. "No one of you young gentlemen
will find the time to get jealous of me."
The door closed behind them, and they walked to and fro under the
platform.
"What brings you here?" the countess asked hastily. "Are you
finally bringing me the news that Gritti is going to be called
back?"
"You haven't fulfilled the condition yet, Leonora. What have you
told the tribunal of the secrets from Vienna?"
"Was it my fault? Didn't I do everything a woman might be capable
of, and didn't I make this stubborn German squirm in my web like a
fish on dry land? But never, a word about his occupation had come
across his lips. And today, he's departing, as you would know.
The annoyance of having spent so much time on him in vain is
making me ill."
"It would be preferred if he was ill."
"How come?"
"He wants to leave, his path couldn't be blocked. But we're
certain that it would cause the greatest harm to the republic if
he should actually reach Vienna. The pretext for his vacation is
meaningless. The true reason is that he has things to report in
Vienna, which he doesn't even dare to entrust a secret courier
with. And therefore, it is imperative to prevent this journey."
"So, prevent it. Whether he's leaving or staying is completely
indifferent to me."
"You've got the easiest means in your hands, Leonora, to keep him
here."
"These would be?"
"You'll sent him a message right away that he should come, to find
you less cruel than before. Then, when he'll call on you this
very night, as he undoubtedly will, you'll make sure that he'll
soon fall ill."
She swiftly interrupted him. "I've made an oath," she said,
"never to agree to such impositions again."
"You'll be relieved of your oath, and your conscience will be
calmed down, Leonora. We're also not of the opinion that the drug
should be lethal; this should even be most carefully avoided."
"Do whatever you want," she said. "But leave me out of it."
"Your final word, countess?"
"I've said it."
"Well, so we'll have to arrange it so that the traveller will have
an accident on the way. This always makes things more complicated
and causes more suspicion."
"And Gritti?"
"I'll tell you about him another time. Permit me to escort you
back to your guests."
The door of the hall opened and closed again. Andrea could stand
up without putting himself into danger. But the words he had
heard were still paralysing his mind and his body. Muffled by the
wall, he heard the wanton laughs and jokes of the young men; his
hair was made to stand on end by the realisation how terribly
close death and life, crime and levity came to one another in
here. When he straightened up with some difficulties and groped
his way down the stairs, his hand was feverishly searching the
dagger, which he always carried with him, hidden in his clothes.
His lips were bloody, thus hard he had bit on them with his teeth.
But he could still think straight enough to go back to Smeraldina
and to tell her in calm words that this company had been rather
amusing to look at; but he would never look through the crack
again, since he had just barely escaped discovery by the countess
and an older guest. He hoped that they had not heard him slipping
out the other door as they had entered the dark hall. - After
this, he emptied his purse completely and insisted on leaving her
at once. The safest thing would be if she let him leave on the
board through the window, in order to avoid any suspicion of the
countess. She did not suspect anything bad in it, the bridge was
built in an instance, and he crossed it with firm steps, though he
was already firmly resolved to commit a serious act. But this
time, it was not only for the great cause, he had consecrated his
life to. This time, a friend's life had to be protected from
hostile treachery, a son had to be sent to his mother's arms
unharmed, a vile violation of hospitality had to be prevented by
executing a swift sentence.
Quietly, he stepped out into the corridor of his house and
listened into the gloomy passage. His landlady's door was closed;
but he nevertheless heard her voice, talking to Orso's shadow in
her feverish dreams. He reached the stairs and carefully opened
the door downstairs. The street was empty; the light of the
small eternal flame did not extend far into the windy night; but
he knew the paths and walked with hasty steps through the next
side alleys over the narrow bridge of the canal, which got him to
the small square in front of Leonora's palace. He had not seen a
gondola anywhere and had to assume that the old man would go the
way to his house on foot. He chose a place where he had to pass
by. A deep, dark, salient pillar by a door he regarded as
suitable for an ambush. Here, he pushed himself into the corner
and kept a keen eye on the portal of the palace.
But the hand holding the dagger ready to strike was shivering a
lot, and the blood was gushing thus violently through his heart
that he had to make the greatest effort to gather all of his
courage. What was this, which was rebelling in him this time
against an act which he regarded as a holy duty, as something
commanded by a higher necessity? He fought hard against the dark
voices, which seemed to lure him away from his post. His shoulder
was firmly pressed against the pillar; with his left hand, he
wiped his brow, which was covered by cold drops of sweat. "Stay
strong!" he could not help saying to himself. "Perhaps, if
heaven's providence is gracious, this is the last time."
Then occurred to him that the old Malapiero would undoubtedly have
servants to escort him, and instantly, he comprehended the
impossibility of carrying out the assault in this case. He almost
liked finding a pretext forcing him to go home today, without
having done the deed. But as he was already putting one foot
forward out of the door's niche, the portal of the palace opened
on the other side of the square, and in the gray night, he saw a
tall figure, wrapped in a cloak, crossing the threshold all by
himself and coming towards him. The white hair was sticking out
clearly enough from under the hat; the swift steps echoed over
the slabs of stone; and carefully, the man kept close to the
houses on his late walk. Now, he approached the house in the
shadow of which the avenger stood; as if he sensed the immediate
danger, he held the cloak before his face and firmly clenched,
with his left hand, the handle of his sword, which he carried by
his side in spite of the ban on weapons. He passed by his enemy
without noticing him; for another ten, twenty steps, the latter
let him walk ahead of him. The lonely man was already approaching
the bridge. Suddenly, he heard steps behind him, he turned
around, his hand dropped the cloak, but in the same moment, his
tall figure collapsed; the steel had struck a deep blow against
his life.
"My mother, my poor mother!" sighed the murdered man. Then, his
head fell onto the pavement. The eyes closed forever.
Several minutes of silence followed these words of farewell. The
dead man lay stretched out across the street, with his arms spread
out, as if he wanted to eagerly embrace the life which had so
disloyally abandoned him. The hat had fallen off his brow; under
the disguise of the white curls, the natural, brown hair flowed
forth, the youthful face seemed like being asleep in the pale
twilight of the night. And one step away from him, by the wall of
the next house, petrified like a statue leaning against the wall,
stood the murderer, and his eyes were staring into the motionless
features of the young man, trying in vain, filled with desperate
fear, to deny this horrible certainty, to persuade himself that
some ghost was deceiving him, that the features of that old man,
who had just before, in Leonora's hall, arranged an ambush for
Andrea's friend, were hidden under this young mask, which hell
presented to him. Had it not been on account of this friend that
he had hurried to strike this blow? Did he not intent to send a
son back to his mother unharmed? And what had this man, lying
there on the ground, been babbling about his poor mother? Why was
the judge and avenger now standing there like a condemned man and
was unable to move a single limb, though his teeth were rattling
like in mortal fear, and extreme cold made all of his body shiver?
The blood, which had been raging towards his eyes, flowed back and
was gushing towards his heart. His eyes clearly recognised the
dagger in the dead man's chest. In the gloomy twilight, he read
the words on the handle which he had painstakingly engraved with
his own hand: "Death to all inquisitors of the state". He could
not help but speak them aloud and let his eyes wander to and fro
between the fatal weapon and the face of the poor victim, until
his mind was filled with the condemning contradiction between
these words and these features. In a frightful haste, thoughts
chased past his mind. Suddenly, he saw everything clearly which
had happened here and could never be atoned for. No miracle had
any part in turning this atrocity into reality. Everything was so
perfectly natural, so probable, a child had to comprehend it.
During the day, the young man had kept his distance from his
ruinous, beautiful enemy. He wanted to leave without farewell.
He had sent someone to tell her, and she felt indifferently enough
about it to invite guests for the same night. When the night had
come, he could not resist the powerful urge of the daemon and
walked the accustomed path. At the portal, he had been told that
he would not find the countess alone. Momentarily, he was
resolved to turn back. And this very moment was enough for his
only friend to position himself into his hiding place, in order to
become his murderer.
Only after Andrea had clearly thought about all of this, with the
cold clairvoyance which comes upon people in all decisive hours
when all comfort disappears, the petrification of his body
receded. He fell towards the silent sleeper, dropped to his knees
onto the pavement, and closely looked at his face. A mad laugh,
which sounded like choking, he now involuntarily uttered, as he
was pushing the white curls off his head, which had so tragically
deceived him. He remembered that he himself had warned the friend
against showing himself openly in the streets of Venice. He
himself had set up the trap for himself and the one who was so
dear to him. Then, he ripped his clothes open and felt whether
there was still a trace of life throbbing in his heart. He bent
his mouth closely over the young man's lips, to find out whether
he could still feel his breath. Everything was quiet and cold and
hopeless.
In this moment, the door of the palace was opened again, and a
tall figure, wearing a cloak, stepped out. The light from the
corridor fell on the white hair of old Malapiero, returning to his
house. Andrea looked up; the piercing irony of his situation
became evident to his soul. There walked the man from whom he
wanted to protect Venice, the defenceless flock of aristocrats and
commoners, and, last but not least, his German friend. There he
came, lonely enough, along his way, only shrouded by a secret
which his enemy had found out; nothing prevented him from
attacking him, the dagger was right there -; but this dagger had
been desecrated by innocent blood, there was nothing any more to
set the judge and avenger apart from the one against whom he
wanted to execute the verdict, except that here a treacherous,
blind coincidence had struck the blow, while those irresponsible
executioners had their goals safely and infallibly in their
sights.
All of this was raging through Andrea's mind. He picked himself
up, pulled the dagger out of the wound, and fled, still being
unnoticed by the aged triumvir, keeping in the shadows, across the
narrow bridge over the canal, towards his house. When it occurred
to him that the old Malapiero had to find the corpse and would be
grateful to his unknown murderer, that he had spared him the
trouble he would otherwise have gone through, he had to bite on
his teeth in order to avoid uttering a savage scream.
Thus, he reached the front door of his house and found it open.
Looking up the staircase, he saw at its top, where the old woman
usually sat, her daughter, standing by the uppermost step and
looking down, leaning far over the banister, holding on to it with
both of her arms. "Are you finally coming!" she whispered at him.
"Where have you been at this late time of day? I heard you
leaving and couldn't sleep."
He did not reply a single word; with difficulties, he ascended
the staircase and wanted to get past her. Then, she saw the
dagger, which he did not care to conceal at all, and suddenly, she
fell right before his feet, uttering a choked exclamation. He
left her lying there and walked to his room. There was not any
room left inside of him for sympathy with small human pains. He
saw nothing but the mother, impatiently awaiting her son to return
from abroad, but being destined to receive his coffin instead.
But as soon as he had locked himself in his room, he perceived
Marietta knocking and her quiet voice asking to be let in.
"Go to bed," he said. "There is nothing left for me to share with
people of the world. Early tomorrow, go to the Doges' Palace.
There are three thousand zecchini for you to receive. You'll be
able to report that one of the conspirators had been rendered
harmless. Don't fear that they might apprehend me alive. Good
night!"
Persistently, she remained at the door. "Let me in," she said.
"I know, you'll do something to yourself, if you'll stay alone.
You're thinking that I could betray you, because I've seen you
coming in with the dagger. Oh, you're safe from me putting you
into danger. Let me in, look into my face, and then tell me
whether you'd think that I would do anything bad to you. Haven't
I already suspected for a long time that you were the one they've
been looking for? In my dreams, I've seen you stained with blood.
But still, I don't hate you. I knew that you were unhappy; I
could give my life, if you asked me to."
She put her ear against the door, but there was no answer.
Instead, she heard him stepping to the window opening onto the
canal and busying himself there with something. A mortal fear
came over her, she rattled at the door, she shouted again, she
deplored him in the most moving words not to perform any desperate
act - all in vain. When finally, everything had become quiet
inside, she pushed, in terrible agony, hard against the door with
her shoulders and tried to break the lock, employing all of her
strength. The old woodwork broke, only the frame held. The hole,
which she had broken into the door, allowed her slender figure to
just barely slip through.
The room was empty; she searched him in all niches in vain. When
she stepped to the open window, not doubting any longer that he
had jumped into the canal, she hardly dared to peer down over the
ledge into the depth. But what she saw restored her lost hope. A
rope was hanging down the wall, being attached to a firm hook
underneath the ledge. It extended down to the surface of the
water. If someone would push himself off the wall with his feet,
after having reached the lower end of the rope, he should easily
be able to swing to the stairs on the other side by the palace of
the countess and into the gondola, which was usually chained to
the pole there. Today, it had disappeared, and the lonely girl,
looking down the dark gorge of the canal in vain, trying to
discover a trace of the fugitive, was at least left with the
comforting belief that he could not have chosen a safer course, if
he wanted to safe himself.
It had been his intention to make her believe that. He did not
want to burden the soul of this innocent creature, whom he had
already given enough grief, with the entire, harsh truth that
there was nothing left which could save him, since he was unable
to flee from himself.
The poor girl was still looking out of the window, and her tears
fell bitterly into the black waters below, when Andrea was already
steering his gondola out into the Grand Canal. The palaces on
both sides towered darkly over the face of the water. He passed
by the house of Morosini, he saw the palace of Venier, and a sense
of horror made his hair stand on ends. Here, his life lay before
him like being encircled by a ring; what a beginning and what an
end! -
When he rowed past the Giudecca and was now seeing the broad front
of the Doges' Palace in the twilight of the moon's murky crescent,
the thought was briefly flashing through his mind that this was
the place where crimes would be punished. But for his crime, he
would not find any judges here; for who may pass judgement on his
own case? And was not still the hope with him that, nevertheless,
out of his atrocious deed, salvation and liberation could flourish
for his fellow citizens, that perhaps even the murder of an
innocent man, for which popular opinion would surely blame the
tribunal, would complete the work he had begun and push the
measure of tyranny beyond its limits?
He himself would have destroyed this hope, if he had given himself
up to the judges, if he had dispersed their fear of the invisible
enemies, and if he had diverted the foreign powers' complaints
away from them.