"What well appointed leader fronts us here?"
KING HENRY VI.
The presence of Annina was a grave embarrassment to Gino. He had his
secret wishes and limited ambition, like other men, and among the
strongest of the former, was the desire to stand well in the favor of
the wine-seller's daughter. But the artful girl, in catering to his
palate with a liquor that was scarcely less celebrated among people of
his class for its strength than its flavor, had caused a momentary
confusion in the brain of Gino, that required time to disperse. The boat
was in the Grand Canal, and far on its way to the place of its
destination, before this happy purification of the intellects of the
gondolier had been sufficiently effected. By that time, however, the
exercise of rowing, the fresh air of the evening, and the sight of so
many accustomed objects, restored his faculties to the necessary degree
of coolness and forethought. As the boat approached the end of the canal
he began to cast his eyes about him in quest of the well known felucca
of the Calabrian.
Though the glory of Venice had departed, the trade of the city was not
then at its present low ebb. The port was still crowded with vessels
from many distant havens, and the flags of most of the maritime states
of Europe were seen, at intervals, within the barrier of the Lido. The
moon was now sufficiently high to cast its soft light on the whole of
the glittering basin, and a forest composed of lateen yards, of the
slender masts of polaccas, and of the more massive and heavy hamper of
regularly rigged ships, was to be seen rising above the tranquil
element.
"Thou art no judge of a vessel's beauty, Annina," said the gondolier to
his companion, who was deeply housed in the pavilion of the boat, "else
should I tell thee to look at this stranger from Candia. 'Tis said that
a fairer model has never entered within the Lido than that same Greek!"
"Our errand is not with the Candian trader, Gino; therefore ply thy oar,
for time passes."
"There's plenty of rough Greek wine in his hold; but, as thou sayest, we
have naught with him. Yon tall ship, which is moored without the smaller
craft of our seas, is the vessel of a Lutheran from the islands of
Inghilterra. 'Twas a sad day for the Republic, girl, when it first
permitted the stranger to come into the waters of the Adriatic!"
"Is it certain, Gino, that the arm of St. Mark was strong enough to keep
him out?"
"Mother of Diana! I would rather thou didst not ask that question in a
place where so many gondoliers are in motion! Here are Ragusans,
Maltese, Sicilians, and Tuscans without number; and a little fleet of
French lie near each other there, at the entrance of the Giudecca. They
are a people who get together, afloat or ashore, for the benefit of the
tongue. Here we are, at the end of our journey."
The oar of Gino gave a backward sweep, and the gondola was at rest by
the side of a felucca.
"A happy night to the Bella Sorrentina and her worthy padrone!" was the
greeting of the gondolier, as he put his foot on the deck of the vessel.
"Is the honest Stefano Milano on board the swift felucca?"
The Calabrian was not slow to answer; and in a few moments the padrone
and his two visitors were in close and secret conference.
"I have brought one here who will be likely to put good Venetian
sequins into thy pocket, caro," observed the gondolier, when the
preliminaries of discourse had been properly observed. "She is the
daughter of a most conscientious wine-dealer, who is quite as ready at
transplanting your Sicilian grapes into the islands as he is willing and
able to pay for them."
"And one, no doubt, as handsome as she is ready," said the mariner, with
blunt gallantry, "were the black cloud but fairly driven from before her
face."
"A mask is of little consequence in a bargain provided the money be
forthcoming. We are always in the Carnival at Venice; and he who would
buy, or he who would sell, has the same right to hide his face as to
hide his thoughts. What hast thou in the way of forbidden liquors,
Stefano, that my companion may not lose the night in idle words?"
"Per Diana! Master Gino, thou puttest thy questions with little
ceremony. The hold of the felucca is empty, as thou mayest see by
stepping to the hatches; and as for any liquor, we are perishing for a
drop to warm the blood."
"And so far from coming to seek it here," said Annina, "we should have
done better to have gone into the cathedral, and said an Ave for thy
safe voyage home. And now that our wit is spent, we will quit thee,
friend Stefano, for some other less skilful in answers."
"Cospetto! thou knowest not what thou sayest," whispered Gino, when he
found that the wary Annina was not disposed to remain. "The man never
enters the meanest creek in Italy, without having something useful
secreted in the felucca on his own account. One purchase of him would
settle the question between the quality of thy father's wines and those
of Battista. There is not a gondolier in Venice but will resort to thy
shop if the intercourse with this fellow can be fairly settled."
Annina hesitated; long practised in the small, but secret exceedingly
hazardous commerce which her father, notwithstanding the vigilance and
severity of the Venetian police, had thus far successfully driven, she
neither liked to risk an exposure of her views to an utter stranger, nor
to abandon a bargain that promised to be lucrative. That Gino trifled
with her as to his true errand needed no confirmation, since a servant
of the Duke of Sant' Agata was not likely to need a disguise to search a
priest; but she knew his zeal for her personal welfare too well to
distrust his faith in a matter that concerned her own safety.
"If thou distrust that any here are the spies of the authorities," she
observed to the padrone, with a manner that readily betrayed her wishes,
"it will be in Gino's power to undeceive thee. Thou wilt testify, Gino,
that I am not to be suspected of treachery in an affair like this."
"Leave me to put a word into the private ear of the Calabrian," said the
gondolier, significantly.--"Stefano Milano, if thou love me," he
continued, when they were a little apart, "keep the girl in parley, and
treat with her fairly for thy adventure."
"Shall I sell the vintage of Don Camillo, or that of the Viceroy of
Sicily, caro? There is as much wine of each on board the Bella
Sorrentina, as would float the fleet of the Republic."
"If, in truth, thou art dry, then feign that thou hast it, and differ in
thy prices. Entertain her but a minute with fair words, while I can get
unseen into my gondola; and then, for the sake of an old and tried
friend, put her tenderly on the quay, in the best manner thou art able."
"I begin to see into the nature of the trade," returned the pliant
padrone, placing a finger on the side of his nose. "I will discourse the
woman by the hour about the flavor of the liquor, or, if thou wilt, of
her own beauty; but to squeeze a drop of anything better than the water
of the Lagunes out of the ribs of the felucca, would be a miracle worthy
of San Teodoro."
"There is but little need to touch on aught but the quality of thy
wine. The girl is not like most of her sex, and she takes sudden offence
when there is question of her appearance. Indeed, the mask she wears is
as much to hide a face that has little to tempt the eye, as from any
wish at concealment."
"Since Gino has entered frankly into the matter," resumed the
quick-witted Calabrian, cheerfully, and with an air of sudden confidence
to the expectant Annina, "I begin to see more probability of our
understanding each other's meaning. Deign, bella donna, to go into my
poor cabin, where we will speak more at our ease, and something more to
our mutual profit and mutual security."
Annina was not without secret doubts, but she suffered the padrone to
lead her to the stairs of the cabin, as if she were disposed to descend.
Her back was no sooner turned, than Gino slid into the gondola, which
one shove of his vigorous arm sent far beyond the leap of man. The
action was sudden, rapid, and noiseless; but the jealous eye of Annina
detected the escape of the gondolier, though not in time to prevent it.
Without betraying uneasiness, she submitted to be led below, as if the
whole were done by previous concert.
"Gino has said that you have a boat which will do the friendly office to
put me on the quay when our conference is over," she remarked, with a
presence of mind that luckily met the expedient of her late companion.
"The felucca itself should do that much, were there want of other
means," gallantly returned the manner when they disappeared in the
cabin.
Free to discharge his duty, Gino now plied his task with redoubled zeal.
The light boat glided among the vessels, inclining, by the skilful
management of his single oar, in a manner to avoid all collision, until
it entered the narrow canal which separates the palace of the Doge from
the more beautiful and classic structure that contains the prisons of
the Republic. The bridge which continues the communication of the quays,
was first passed, and then he was stealing beneath that far-famed arch
which supports a covered gallery leading from the upper story of the
palace into that of the prisons, and which, from its being appropriated
to the passage of the accused from their cells to the presence of their
judges, has been so poetically, and it may be added so pathetically,
called the Bridge of Sighs.
The oar of Gino now relaxed its efforts, and the gondola approached a
flight of steps over which, as usual, the water cast its little waves.
Stepping on the lowest flag, he thrust a small iron spike to which a
cord was attached, into a crevice between two of the stones, and left
his boat to the security of this characteristic fastening. When this
little precaution was observed, the gondolier passed up lightly beneath
the massive arch of the water-gate of the palace, and entered its large
but gloomy court.
At that hour, and with the temptation of the gay scene which offered in
the adjoining square, the place was nearly deserted. A single female
water-carrier was at the well, waiting for the element to filter into
its basin, in order to fill her buckets, while her ear listened in dull
attention to the hum of the moving crowd without. A halberdier paced the
open gallery at the head of the Giant's Stairs, and, here and there, the
footfall of other sentinels might be heard among the hollow and
ponderous arches of the long corridors. No light was shed from the
windows; but the entire building presented a fit emblem of that
mysterious power which was known to preside over the fortunes of Venice
and her citizens. Ere Gino trusted himself without the shadow of the
passage by which he had entered, two or three curious faces had appeared
at the opposite entrance of the court, where they paused a moment to
gaze at the melancholy and imposing air of the dreaded palace, before
they vanished in the throng which trifled in the immediate proximity of
that secret and ruthless tribunal, as man riots in security even on the
verge of an endless and unforeseen future.
Disappointed in his expectation of meeting him he sought, on the
instant, the gondolier advanced, and taking courage by the possibility
of his escaping altogether from the interview, he ventured to furnish
audible evidence of his presence by a loud hem. At that instant a figure
glided into the court from the side of the quay, and walked swiftly
towards its centre. The heart of Gino beat violently, but he mustered
resolution to meet the stranger. As they drew near each other, it became
evident, by the light of the moon, which penetrated even to that gloomy
spot, that the latter was also masked.
"San Teodoro and San Marco have you in mind!" commenced the gondolier.
"If I mistake not, you are the man I am sent to meet."
The stranger started, and first manifesting an intention to pass on
quickly, he suddenly arrested the movement to reply.
"This may be so or not. Unmask, that I may judge by thy countenance if
what thou sayest be true."
"By your good leave, most worthy and honorable Signore, and if it be
equally agreeable to you and my master, I would choose to keep off the
evening air by this bit of pasteboard and silk."
"Here are none to betray thee, wert thou naked as at thy birth. Unless
certain of thy character, in what manner may I confide in thy honesty?"
"I have no distrust of the virtues of an undisguised face, Signore, and
therefore do I invite you, yourself, to exhibit what nature has done for
you in the way of features, that I, who am to make the confidence, be
sure it be to the right person."
"This is well, and gives assurance of thy prudence. I may not unmask,
however; and as there seemeth little probability of our coming to an
understanding, I will go my way. A most happy night to thee."
"Cospetto!--Signore, you are far too quick in your ideas and movements
for one little used to negotiations of this sort. Here is a ring whose
signet may help us to understand each other."
The stranger took the jewel, and holding the stone in a manner to
receive the light of the moon, he started in a manner to betray both
surprise and pleasure.
"This is the falcon crest of the Neapolitan--he that is the lord of
Sant' Agata!"
"And of many other fiefs, good Signore, to say nothing of the honors he
claims in Venice. Am I right in supposing my errand with you?"
"Thou hast found one whose present business has no other object than Don
Camillo Monforte. But thy errand was not solely to exhibit the signet?"
"So little so, that I have a packet here which waits only for a
certainty of the person with whom I speak, to be placed into his hands."
The stranger mused a moment; then glancing a look about him, he answered
hurriedly--
"This is no place to unmask, friend, even though we only wear our
disguises in pleasantry. Tarry here, and at my return I will conduct
thee to a more fitting spot."
The words were scarcely uttered when Gino found himself standing in the
middle of the court alone. The masked stranger had passed swiftly on,
and was at the bottom of the Giant's Stairs ere the gondolier had time
for reflection. He ascended with a light and rapid step, and without
regarding the halberdier, he approached the first of three or four
orifices which opened into the wall of the palace, and which, from the
heads of the animal being carved in relief around them, had become
famous as the receptacles of secret accusations under the name of the
Lion's Mouths. Something he dropped into the grinning aperture of the
marble, though what, the distance and the obscurity of the gallery
prevented Gino from perceiving; and then his form was seen gliding like
a phantom down the flight of massive steps.
Gino had retired towards the arch of the water-gate, in expectation that
the stranger would rejoin him within its shadows; but, to his great
alarm, he saw the form darting through the outer portal of the palace
into the square of St. Mark. It was not a moment ere Gino, breathless
with haste, was in chase. On reaching the bright and gay scene of the
piazza, which contrasted with the gloomy court he had just quitted like
morning with night, he saw the utter fruitlessness of further pursuit.
Frightened at the loss of his master's signet, however, the indiscreet
but well intentioned gondolier rushed into the crowd, and tried in vain
to select the delinquent from among a thousand masks.
"Harkee, Signore," uttered the half-distracted gondolier to one, who,
having first examined his person with distrust, evidently betrayed a
wish to avoid him, "if thou hast sufficiently pleased thy finger with my
master's signet, the occasion offers to return it."
"I know thee not," returned a voice, in which Gino's ear could detect no
familiar sound.
"It may not be well to trifle with the displeasure of a noble as
powerful as him, you know," he whispered at the elbow of another, who
had come under his suspicions. "The signet, if thou pleasest, and the
affair need go no further."
"He who would meddle in it, with or without that gage, would do well to
pause."
The gondolier again turned away disappointed.
"The ring is not suited to thy masquerade, friend of mine," he essayed
with a third; "and it would be wise not to trouble the podestà about
such a trifle."
"Then name it not, lest he hear thee." The answer proved, like all the
others, unsatisfactory and bootless.
Gino now ceased to question any; but he threaded the throng with an
active and eager eye. Fifty times was he tempted to speak, but as often
did some difference in stature or dress, some laugh, or trifle uttered
in levity, warn him of his mistake. He penetrated to the very head of
the piazza, and, returning by the opposite side, he found his way
through the throng of the porticoes, looking into every coffee-house,
and examining each figure that floated by, until he again issued into
the piazzetta, without success. A slight jerk at the elbow of his jacket
arrested his steps, and he turned to look at the person who had detained
him. A female, attired like a contadina, addressed him in the feigned
voice common to all.
"Whither so fast, and what hast thou lost in this merry crowd? If a
heart, 'twill be wise to use diligence, for many here may be willing to
wear the jewel."
"Corpo di Bacco!" exclaimed the disappointed gondolier; "any who find
such a bauble of mine under foot, are welcome to their luck! Hast thou
seen a domino of a size like that of any other man, with a gait that
might pass for the step of a senator, padre, or Jew, and a mask that
looks as much like a thousand of these in the square as one side of the
campanile is like the other?"
"Thy picture is so well drawn that one cannot fail to know the original.
He stands beside thee."
Gino wheeled suddenly, and saw that a grinning harlequin was playing his
antics in the place where he had expected to find the stranger.
"And thy eyes, bella contadina, are as dull as a mole's."
He ceased speaking; for, deceived in his person, she who had saluted him
was no longer visible. In this manner did the disappointed gondolier
thread his way towards the water, now answering to the boisterous salute
of some clown, and now repelling the advances of females less disguised
than the pretended contadina, until he gained a space near the quays,
where there was more room for observation. Here he paused, undetermined
whether to return and confess his indiscretion to his master, or whether
he should make still another effort to regain the ring which had been so
sillily lost. The vacant space between the two granite columns was left
to the quiet possession of himself and one other, who stood near the
base of that which sustained the lion of St. Mark, as motionless as if
he too were merely a form of stone. Two or three stragglers, either led
by idle curiosity or expecting to meet one appointed to await their
coming, drew near this immovable man, but all glided away, as if there
were repulsion in his marble-like countenance. Gino had witnessed
several instances of this evident dislike to remain near the unknown
figure, ere he felt induced to cross the space between them, in order to
inquire into its cause. A slow movement at the sound of his footsteps,
brought the rays of the moon full upon the calm countenance and
searching eye of the very man he sought.
The first impulse of the gondolier, like that of all the others he had
seen approach the spot, was to retreat; but the recollection of his
errand and his loss came in season to prevent such an exhibition of his
disgust and alarm. Still he did not speak; but he met the riveted gaze
of the Bravo with a look that denoted, equally, confusion of intellect
and a half-settled purpose.
"Would'st thou aught with me?" demanded Jacopo, when the gaze of each
had continued beyond the term of accidental glances.
"My master's signet."
"I know thee not."
"That image of San Teodoro could testify that this is holy truth, if it
would but speak! I have not the honor of your friendship, Signor Jacopo;
but one may have affairs even with a stranger. If you met a peaceable
and innocent gondolier in the court of the palace since the clock of the
piazza told the last quarter, and got from him a ring, which can be of
but little use to any but its rightful owner, one so generous will not
hesitate to return it."
"Dost thou take me for a jeweller of the Rialto that thou speakest to me
of rings?"
"I take you for one well known and much valued by many of name and
quality, here in Venice, as witness my errand from my own master."
"Remove thy mask. Men of fair dealing need not hide the features which
nature has given them."
"You speak nothing but truths, Signor Frontoni, which is little
remarkable considering thy opportunities of looking into the motives of
men. There is little in my face to pay you for the trouble of casting a
glance at it. I would as lief do as others in this gay season, if it be
equally agreeable to you."
"Do as thou wilt; but I pray thee to give me the same permission."
"There are few so bold as to dispute thy pleasure, Signore."
"It is, to be alone."
"Cospetto! There is not a man in Venice who would more gladly consult
it, if my master's errand were fairly done!" muttered Gino, between his
teeth. "I have here a packet, which it is my duty to put into your
hands, Signore, and into those of no other."
"I know thee not--thou hast a name?"
"Not in the sense in which you speak, Signore. As to that sort of
reputation I am as nameless as a foundling."
"If thy master is of no more note than thyself the packet may be
returned."
"There are few within the dominions of St. Mark of better lineage or of
fairer hopes than the Duke of Sant' Agata."
The cold expression of the Bravo's countenance changed.
"If thou comest from Don Camillo Monforte, why dost thou hesitate to
proclaim it? Where are his requests?"
"I know not whether it is his pleasure or that of another which this
paper contains, but such as it is, Signor Jacopo, my duty commands me to
deliver it to thee."
The packet was received calmly, though the organ which glanced at its
seal and its superscription, gleamed with an expression which the
credulous gondolier fancied to resemble that of the tiger at the sight
of blood.
"Thou said'st something of a ring. Dost thou bear thy master's signet? I
am much accustomed to see pledges ere I give faith."
"Blessed San Teodore grant that I did! Were it as heavy as a skin of
wine, I would willingly bear the load; but one that I mistook for you,
Master Jacopo, has it on his own light finger, I fear."
"This is an affair that thou wilt settle with thy master," returned the
Bravo, coldly, again examining the impression of the seal.
"If you are acquainted with the writing of my master," hurriedly
remarked Gino, who trembled for the fate of the packet, "you will see
his skill in the turn of those letters. There are few nobles in Venice,
or indeed in the Sicilies, who have a more scholarly hand, with a quill,
than Don Camillo Monforte; I could not do the thing half so well
myself."
"I am no clerk," observed the Bravo, without betraying shame at the
confession. "The art of deciphering a scroll, like this, was never
taught me; if thou art so expert in the skill of a penman, tell me the
name the packet bears."
"'Twould little become me to breathe a syllable concerning any of my
master's secrets," returned the gondolier, drawing himself up in sudden
reserve. "It is enough that he bid me deliver the letter; after which I
should think it presumption even to whisper more."
The dark eye of the Bravo was seen rolling over the person of his
companion, by the light of the moon, in a manner that caused the blood
of the latter to steal towards his heart.
"I bid thee read to me aloud the name the paper bears," said Jacopo,
sternly. "Here is none but the lion and the saint above our heads to
listen."
"Just San Marco! who can tell what ear is open or what ear is shut in
Venice? If you please, Signor Frontoni, we will postpone the examination
to a more suitable occasion."
"Friend, I do not play the fool! The name, or show me some gage that
thou art sent by him thou hast named, else take back the packet; 'tis no
affair for my hand."
"Reflect a single moment on the consequences, Signor Jacopo, before you
come to a determination so hasty."
"I know no consequences which can befall a man who refuses to receive a
message like this."
"Per Diana! Signore, the Duca will not be likely to leave me an ear to
hear the good advice of Father Battista."
"Then will the Duca save the public executioner some trouble."
As he spoke, the Bravo cast the packet at the feet of the gondolier, and
began to walk calmly up the piazzetta. Gino seized the letter, and, with
his brain in a whirl, with the effort to recall some one of his master's
acquaintances to whom he would be likely to address an epistle on such
an occasion, he followed.
"I wonder, Signor Jacopo, that a man of your sagacity has not remembered
that a packet to be delivered to himself should bear his own name."
The Bravo took the paper, and held the superscription again to the
light.
"That is not so. Though unlearned, necessity has taught me to know when
I am meant."
"Diamine! That is just my own case, Signore. Were the letter for me,
now the old should not know its young quicker than I would come at the
truth."
"Then thou canst not read?"
"I never pretended to the art. The little said was merely about writing.
Learning, as you well understand, Master Jacopo, is divided into
reading, writing, and figures; and a man may well understand one,
without knowing a word of the others. It is not absolutely necessary to
be a bishop to have a shaved head, or a Jew to wear a beard."
"Thou would'st have done better to have said this at once; go, I will
think of the matter."
Gino gladly turned away, but he had not left the other many paces before
he saw a female form gliding behind the pedestal of one of the granite
columns. Moving swiftly in a direction to uncover this seeming spy, he
saw at once that Annina had been a witness of his interview with the
Bravo.