The Bravo: A Tale. Джеймс Фенимор Купер

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