The Bravo (3 page)

"Did the sight warm thee at the soles of thy feet, Gino dear?"

"There was not a turbaned head on his deck, but every sea-cap sat upon a
well covered poll and a shorn chin. Thy Bucentaur is no longer the
bravest craft that floats between Dalmatia and the islands, though her
gilding may glitter brightest. There are men beyond the pillars of
Hercules who are not satisfied with doing all that can be done on their
own coasts, but who are pretending to do much of that which can be done
on ours."

"The republic is a little aged, caro, and years need rest. The joints of
the Bucentaur are racked by time and many voyages to the Lido. I have
heard my master say that the leap of the winged lion is not as far as it
was, even in his young days."

"Don Camillo has the reputation of talking boldly of the foundation of
this city of piles, when he has the roof of old Sant' Agata safely over
his head. Were he to speak more reverently of the horned bonnet, and of
the Council of Three, his pretensions to succeed to the rights of his
forefathers might seem juster in the eyes of his judges. But distance is
a great mellower of colors and softener of fears. My own opinion of the
speed of the felucca, and of the merits of a Turk, undergo changes of
this sort between port and the open sea; and I have known thee, good
Gino, forget San Teodoro, and bawl as lustily to San Gennaro, when at
Naples, as if thou really fancied thyself in danger from the mountain."

"One must speak to those at hand, in order to be quickest heard,"
rejoined the gondolier, casting a glance that was partly humorous, and
not without superstition, upwards at the image which crowned the granite
column against whose pedestal he still leaned. "A truth which warns us
to be prudent, for yonder Jew cast a look this way, as if he felt a
conscientious scruple in letting any irreverent remark of ours go
without reporting. The bearded old rogue is said to have other dealings
with the Three Hundred besides asking for the moneys he has lent to
their sons. And so, Stefano, thou thinkest the republic will never plant
another mast of triumph in San Marco, or bring more trophies to the
venerable church?"

"Napoli herself, with her constant change of masters, is as likely to do
a great act on the sea as thy winged beast just now! Thou art well
enough to row a gondola in the canals, Gino, or to follow thy master to
his Calabrian castle; but if thou would'st know what passes in the wide
world, thou must be content to listen to mariners of the long course.
The day of San Marco has gone by, and that of the heretics more north
has come."

"Thou hast been much of late among the lying Genoese, Stefano, that thou
comest hither with these idle tales of what a heretic can do. Genova la
Superba! What has a city of walls to compare with one of canals and
islands like this?—and what has that Apennine republic performed, to be
put in comparison with the great deeds of the Queen of the Adriatic?
Thou forgettest that Venezia has been—"

"Zitto, zitto! that
has
been, caro mio, is a great word with all
Italy. Thou art as proud of the past as a Roman of the Trastevere."

"And the Roman of the Trastevere is right. Is it nothing, Stefano
Milano, to be descended from a great and victorious people?"

"It is better, Gino Monaldi, to be one of a people which is great and
victorious just now. The enjoyment of the past is like the pleasure of
the fool who dreams of the wine he drank yesterday."

"This is well for a Neapolitan, whose country never was a nation,"
returned the gondolier, angrily. "I have heard Don Camillo, who is one
educated as well as born in the land, often say that half of the people
of Europe have ridden the horse of Sicily, and used the legs of thy
Napoli, except those who had the best right to the services of both."

"Even so; and yet the figs are as sweet as ever, and the beccafichi as
tender! The ashes of the volcano cover all!"

"Gino," said a voice of authority, near the gondolier.

"Signore."

He who interrupted the dialogue pointed to the boat without saying more.

"A rivederli," hastily muttered the gondolier. His friend squeezed his
hand in perfect amity—for, in truth, they were countrymen by birth,
though chance had trained the former on the canals—and, at the next
instant, Gino was arranging the cushions for his master, having first
aroused his subordinate brother of the oar from a profound sleep.

"Hast ever swam in a gondola at Venice?"
SHAKESPEARE.

When Don Camillo Monforte entered the gondola, he did not take his seat
in the pavilion. With an arm leaning on the top of the canopy, and his
cloak thrown loosely over one shoulder, the young noble stood, in a
musing attitude, until his dexterous servitors had extricated the boat
from the little fleet which crowded the quay, and had urged it into open
water. This duty performed, Gino touched his scarlet cap, and looked at
his master as if to inquire the direction in which they were to proceed.
He was answered by a silent gesture that indicated the route of the
great canal.

"Thou hast an ambition, Gino, to show thy skill in the regatta?" Don
Camillo observed, when they had made a little progress. "The motive
merits success. Thou wast speaking to a stranger when I summoned thee to
the gondola?"

"I was asking the news of our Calabrian hills from one who has come into
port with his felucca, though the man took the name of San Gennaro to
witness that his former luckless voyage should be the last."

"How does he call his felucca, and what is the name of the padrone?"

"La Bella Sorrentina, commanded by a certain Stefano Milano, son of an
ancient servant of Sant' Agata. The bark is none of the worst for speed,
and it has some reputation for beauty. It ought to be of happy fortune,
too, for the good curato recommended it, with many a devout prayer, to
the Virgin and to San Francesco."

The noble appeared to lend more attention to the discourse, which, until
now, on his part, had been commenced in the listless manner with which a
superior encourages an indulged dependant.

"La Bella Sorrentina! Have I not reason to know the bark?"

"Nothing more true, Signore. Her padrone has relations at Sant' Agata,
as I have told your eccellenza, and his vessel has lain on the beach
near the castle many a bleak winter."

"What brings him to Venice?"

"That is what I would give my newest jacket of your eccellenza's colors
to know, Signore. I have as little wish to inquire into other people's
affairs as any one, and I very well know that discretion is the chief
virtue of a gondolier. I ventured, however, a deadly hint concerning his
errand, such as ancient neighborhood would warrant, but he was as
cautious of his answers as if he were freighted with the confessions of
fifty Christians. Now, if your eccellenza should see fit to give me
authority to question him in your name, the deuce is in't if between
respect for his lord, and good management, we could not draw something
more than a false bill of lading from him."

"Thou wilt take thy choice of my gondolas for the regatta, Gino,"
observed the Duke of Sant' Agata, entering the pavilion, and throwing
himself on the glossy black leathern cushions, without adverting to the
suggestion of his servant.

The gondola continued its noiseless course, with the sprite-like
movement peculiar to that description of boat. Gino, who, as superior
over his fellow, stood perched on the little arched deck in the stern,
pushed his oar with accustomed readiness and skill, now causing the
light vessel to sheer to the right, and now to the left, as it glided
among the multitude of craft, of all sizes and uses, which it met in
its passage. Palace after palace had been passed, and more than one of
the principal canals, which diverged towards the different spectacles,
or the other places of resort frequented by his master, was left behind,
without Don Camillo giving any new direction. At length the boat arrived
opposite to a building which seemed to excite more than common
expectation. Giorgio worked his oar with a single hand, looking over his
shoulder at Gino, and Gino permitted his blade fairly to trail on the
water. Both seemed to await new orders, manifesting something like that
species of instinctive sympathy with him they served, which a long
practised horse is apt to show when he draws near a gate that is seldom
passed unvisited by his driver.

The edifice which caused this hesitation in the two gondoliers was one
of those residences at Venice, which are quite as remarkable for their
external riches and ornaments as for their singular situation amid the
waters. A massive rustic basement of marble was seated as solidly in the
element as if it grew from a living rock, while story was seemingly
raised on story, in the wanton observance of the most capricious rules
of meretricious architecture, until the pile reached an altitude that is
little known, except in the dwellings of princes. Colonnades,
medallions, and massive cornices overhung the canal, as if the art of
man had taken pride in loading the superstructure in a manner to mock
the unstable element which concealed its base. A flight of steps, on
which each gentle undulation produced by the passage of the barge washed
a wave, conducted to a vast vestibule, that answered many of the
purposes of a court. Two or three gondolas were moored near, but the
absence of their people showed they were for the use of those who dwelt
within. The boats were protected from rough collision with the passing
craft by piles driven obliquely into the bottom. Similar spars, with
painted and ornamented heads, that sometimes bore the colors and arms
of the proprietor, formed a sort of little haven for the gondolas of the
household, before the door of every dwelling of mark.

"Where is it the pleasure of your eccellenza to be rowed?" asked Gino,
when he found his sympathetic delay had produced no order.

"To the Palazzo."

Giorgio threw a glance of surprise back at his comrade, but the obedient
gondola shot by the gloomy, though rich abode, as if the little bark had
suddenly obeyed an inward impulse. In a moment more it whirled aside,
and the hollow sound, caused by the plash of water between high walls,
announced its entrance into a narrower canal. With shortened oars the
men still urged the boat ahead, now turning short into some new channel,
now glancing beneath a low bridge, and now uttering, in the sweet shrill
tones of the country and their craft, the well known warning to those
who were darting in an opposite direction. A backstroke of Gino's oar,
however, soon brought the side of the arrested boat to a flight of
steps.

"Thou wilt follow me," said Don Camillo, as he placed his foot, with the
customary caution, on the moist stone, and laid a hand on the shoulder
of Gino; "I have need of thee."

Neither the vestibule, nor the entrance, nor the other visible
accessories of the dwelling were so indicative of luxury and wealth as
that of the palace on the great canal. Still they were all such as
denoted the residence of a noble of consideration.

"Thou wilt do wisely, Gino, to trust thy fortunes to the new gondola,"
said the master, as he mounted the heavy stone stairs to an upper floor,
pointing, as he spoke, to a new and beautiful boat, which lay in a
corner of the large vestibule, as carriages are seen standing in the
courts of houses built on more solid ground. "He who would find favor
with Jupiter must put his own shoulder to the wheel, thou knowest, my
friend."

The eye of Gino brightened, and he was voluble in his expression of
thanks. They had ascended to the first floor, and were already deep in a
suite of gloomy apartments, before the gratitude and professional pride
of the gondolier were exhausted.

"Aided by a powerful arm and a fleet gondola, thy chance will be as good
as another's, Gino," said Don Camillo, closing the door of his cabinet
on his servant; "at present thou mayest give some proof of zeal in my
service, in another manner. Is the face of a man called Jacopo Frontoni
known to thee?"

"Eccellenza!" exclaimed the gondolier, gasping for breath.

"I ask thee if thou knowest the countenance of one named Frontoni?"

"His countenance, Signore!"

"By what else would'st thou distinguish a man?"

"A man, Signor' Don Camillo!"

"Art thou mocking thy master, Gino? I have asked thee if thou art
acquainted with the person of a certain Jacopo Frontoni, a dweller here
in Venice?"

"Eccellenza, yes."

"He I mean has been long remarked by the misfortunes of his family; the
father being now in exile on the Dalmatian coast, or elsewhere."

"Eccellenza, yes."

"There are many of the name of Frontoni, and it is important that thou
should'st not mistake the man. Jacopo, of that family, is a youth of
some five-and-twenty, of an active frame and melancholy visage, and of
less vivacity of temperament than is wont, at his years."

"Eccellenza, yes."

"One who consorts but little with his fellows, and who is rather noted
for the silence and industry with which he attends to his concerns, than
for any of the usual pleasantries and trifling of men of his cast. A
certain Jacopo Frontoni, that hath his abode somewhere near the
arsenal?"

"Cospetto! Signor' Duca, the man is as well known to us gondoliers as
the bridge of the Rialto! Your eccellenza has no need to trouble
yourself to describe him."

Don Camillo Monforte was searching among the papers of a secretaire. He
raised his eyes in some little amazement at the sally of his dependant,
and then he quietly resumed his occupation.

"If thou knowest the man, it is enough."

"Eccellenza, yes. And what is your pleasure with this accursed Jacopo?"

The Duke of Sant' Agata seemed to recollect himself. He replaced the
papers which had been deranged, and he closed the secretaire.