The Bravo (36 page)

"Thou knowest little of Venice, child! Holy Maria! a secret of that kind
is a death-warrant of itself. It is as dangerous to know too much as it
is to know too little, when one deals with St. Mark. But they say Jacopo
was there, standing eye to eye with the Doge, and scaring the Senators
as if he had been an uncalled spectre from the vaults of their fathers.
Nor is this all; as I crossed the Lagunes this morning, I saw the body
of a young cavalier drawn from the water, and those who were near it
said it had the mark of his fatal hand!"

The timid Gelsomina shuddered.

"They who rule," she said, "will have to answer for this negligence to
God, if they let the wretch longer go at large."

"Blessed St. Mark protect his children! They say there is much of this
sort of sin to answer for—but see the body I did, with my own eyes, in
entering the canals this morning."

"And didst thou sleep on the Lido, that thou wert abroad so early?"

"The Lido—yes—nay—I slept not, but thou knowest my father had a busy
day during the revels, and I am not like thee, Gessina, mistress of the
household, to do as I would. But I tarry here to chat with thee, when
there is great need of industry at home. Hast thou the package, child,
which I trusted to thy keeping at my last visit?"

"It is here," answered Gelsomina, opening a drawer, and handing to her
cousin a small but closely enveloped package, which, unknown to herself,
contained some articles of forbidden commerce, and which the other, in
her indefatigable activity, had been obliged to secrete for a time. "I
had begun to think that thou hadst forgotten it, and was about to send
it to thee."

"Gelsomina, if thou lovest me, never do so rash an act! My brother
Giuseppe—thou scarce knowest Giuseppe?"

"We have little acquaintance, for cousins."

"Thou art fortunate in thy ignorance. I cannot say what I might of the
child of the same parents, but had Giuseppe seen this package by any
accident, it might have brought thee into great trouble!"

"Nay, I fear not thy brother, nor any else," said the daughter of the
prison-keeper, with the firmness of innocence; "he could do me no harm
for dealing kindly by a relative."

"Thou art right; but he might have caused me great vexation. Sainted
Maria! if thou knewest the pain that unthinking and misguided boy gives
his family! He is my brother, after all, and you will fancy the rest.
Addio, good Gessina; I hope thy father will permit thee to come and
visit, at last, those who so much love thee."

"Addio, Annina; thou knowest I would come gladly, but that I scarce
quit the side of my poor mother."

The wily daughter of the wine-seller gave her guileless and unsuspecting
friend a kiss, and then she was let out and departed.

"Carlo," said the soft voice of Gessina; "thou can'st come forth, for we
have no further fear of visits."

The Bravo appeared, but with a paleness deeper than common on his cheek.
He looked mournfully at the gentle and affectionate being who awaited
his return, and when he struggled to answer her ingenuous smile, the
abortive effort gave his features an expression of ghastliness.

"Annina has wearied thee with her idle discourse of the regatta, and of
murders on the canals. Thou wilt not judge her harshly, for the manner
in which she spoke of Giuseppe, who may deserve this, and more. But I
know thy impatience, and I will not increase thy weariness."

"Hold, Gessina—this girl is thy cousin?"

"Have I not told thee so? Our mothers are sisters."

"And she is here often?"

"Not as often as she could wish, I am certain, for her aunt has not
quitted her room for many, many months."

"Thou art an excellent daughter, kind Gessina, and would make all others
as virtuous as thyself. And thou hast been to return these visits?"

"Never. My father forbids it, for they are dealers in wines, and
entertain the gondoliers in revelry. But Annina is blameless for the
trade of her parents."

"No doubt—and that package? it hath been long in thy keeping."

"A month; Annina left it at her last visit, for she was hurried to cross
to the Lido. But why these questions? You do not like my cousin, who is
giddy, and given to idle conversation, but who, I think, must have a
good heart. Thou heard'st the manner in which she spoke of the wretched
bravo, Jacopo, and of this late murder?"

"I did."

"Thou could'st not have shown more horror at the monster's crime
thyself, Carlo. Nay, Annina is thoughtless, and she might be less
worldly; but she hath, like all of us, a holy aversion to sin. Shall I
lead thee to the cell?"

"Go on."

"Thy honest nature, Carlo, revolts at the cold villany of the assassin.
I have heard much of his murders, and of the manner in which those up
above bear with him. They say, in common, that his art surpasseth
theirs, and that the officers wait for proof, that they may not do
injustice."

"Is the Senate so tender, think you?" asked the Bravo, huskily, but
motioning for his companion to proceed.

The girl looked sad, like one who felt the force of this question; and
she turned away to open a private door, whence she brought forth a
little box.

"This is the key, Carlo," she said, showing him one of a massive bunch,
"and I am now the sole warder. This much, at least, we have effected;
the day may still come when we shall do more."

The Bravo endeavored to smile, as if he appreciated her kindness; but he
only succeeded in making her understand his desire to go on. The eye of
the gentle-hearted girl lost its gleam of hope in an expression of
sorrow, and she obeyed.

"But let us to the roof,
And, when thou hast surveyed the sea, the land,
Visit the narrow cells that cluster there,
As in a place of tombs."
ST. MARK'S PLACE.

We shall not attempt to thread the vaulted galleries, the gloomy
corridors, and all the apartments, through which the keeper's daughter
led her companion. Those who have ever entered an extensive prison, will
require no description to revive the feeling of pain which it excited,
by barred windows, creaking hinges, grating bolts, and all those other
signs, which are alike the means and evidence of incarceration. The
building, unhappily like most other edifices intended to repress the
vices of society, was vast, strong, and intricate within, although, as
has been already intimated, of a chaste and simple beauty externally,
that might seem to have been adopted in mockery of its destination.

Gelsomina entered a low, narrow, and glazed gallery, when she stopped.

"Thou soughtest me, as wont, beneath the water-gate, Carlo," she asked,
"at the usual hour?"

"I should not have entered the prison had I found thee there, for thou
knowest I would be little seen. But I bethought me of thy mother, and
crossed the canal."

"Thou wast wrong. My mother rests much as she has done for many
months—thou must have seen that we are not taking the usual route to
the cell?"

"I have; but as we are not accustomed to meet in thy father's rooms, on
this errand, I thought this the necessary direction."

"Hast thou much knowledge of the palace and the prison, Carlo?"

"More than I could wish, good Gelsomina; but why am I thus questioned,
at a moment when I would be otherwise employed?"

The timid and conscious girl did not answer. Her cheek was never bright,
for, like a flower reared in the shade, it had the delicate hue of her
secluded life; but at this question it became pale. Accustomed to the
ingenuous habits of the sensitive being at his side, the Bravo studied
her speaking features intently. He moved swiftly to a window, and
looking out, his eye fell upon a narrow and gloomy canal. Crossing the
gallery, he cast a glance beneath him, and saw the same dark watery
passage, leading between the masonry of two massive piles to the quay
and the port.

"Gelsomina!" he cried, recoiling from the sight, "this is the Bridge of
Sighs!"

"It is, Carlo; hast thou ever crossed it before?"

"Never: nor do I understand why I cross it now. I have long thought that
it might one day be my fortune to walk this fatal passage, but I could
not dream of such a keeper!"

The eye of Gelsomina brightened, and her smile was cheerful.

"Thou wilt never cross it to thy harm with me."

"Of that I am certain, kind Gessina," he answered, taking her hand. "But
this is a riddle that I cannot explain. Art thou in the habit of
entering the palace by this gallery?"

"It is little used, except by the keepers and the condemned, as
doubtless thou hast often heard; but yet they have given me the keys,
and taught me the windings of the place, in order that I might serve, as
usual, for thy guide."

"Gelsomina, I fear I have been too happy in thy company to note, as
prudence would have told me, the rare kindness of the council in
permitting me to enjoy it!"

"Dost thou repent, Carlo, that thou hast known me?"

The reproachful melancholy of her voice touched the Bravo, who kissed
the hand he held with Italian fervor.

"I should then repent me of the only hours of happiness I have known for
years," he said. "Thou hast been to me, Gelsomina, like a flower in a
desert—a pure spring to a feverish man—a gleam of hope to one
suffering under malediction. No, no, not for a moment have I repented
knowing thee, my Gelsomina!"

"'Twould not have made my life more happy, Carlo, to have thought I had
added to thy sorrows. I am young, and ignorant of the world, but I know
we should cause joy, and not pain, to those we esteem."

"Thy nature would teach thee this gentle lesson. But is it not strange
that one like me should be suffered to visit the prison unattended by
any other keeper?"

"I had not thought it so, Carlo; but surely, it is not common!"

"We have found so much pleasure in each other, dear Gessina, that we
have overlooked what ought to have caused alarm."

"Alarm, Carlo!"

"Or, at least, distrust; for these wily senators do no act of mercy
without a motive. But it is now too late to recall the past if we would;
and in that which relates to thee I would not lose the memory of a
moment. Let us proceed."

The slight cloud vanished from the face of the mild auditor of the
Bravo; but still she did not move.

"Few pass this bridge, they say," she added tremulously, "and enter the
world again; and yet thou dost not even ask why we are here, Carlo!"

There was a transient gleam of distrust in the hasty glance of the
Bravo, as he shot a look at the undisturbed eye of the innocent being
who put this question. But it scarcely remained long enough to change
the expression of manly interest she was accustomed to meet in his look.

"Since thou wilt have me curious," he said, "why hast thou come hither,
and more than all, being here, why dost thou linger?"

"The season is advanced, Carlo," she answered, speaking scarcely above
her breath, "and we should look in vain among the cells."

"I understand thee," he said; "we will proceed."

Gelsomina lingered to gaze wistfully into the face of her companion, but
finding no visible sign of the agony he endured she went on. Jacopo
spoke hoarsely, but he was too long accustomed to disguise to permit the
weakness to escape, when he knew how much it would pain the sensitive
and faithful being who had yielded her affections to him with a
singleness and devotion which arose nearly as much from her manner of
life as from natural ingenuousness.

In order that the reader may be enabled to understand the allusions,
which seem to be so plain to our lovers, it may be necessary to explain
another odious feature in the policy of the Republic of Venice.

Whatever may be the pretension of a state, in its acknowledged theories,
an unerring clue to its true character is ever to be found in the
machinery of its practice. In those governments which are created for
the good of the people, force is applied with caution and reluctance,
since the protection and not the injury of the weak is their object:
whereas the more selfish and exclusive the system becomes, the more
severe and ruthless are the coercive means employed by those in power.
Thus in Venice, whose whole political fabric reposed on the narrow
foundation of an oligarchy, the jealousy of the Senate brought the
engines of despotism in absolute contact with even the pageantry of
their titular prince, and the palace of the Doge himself was polluted by
the presence of the dungeons. The princely edifice had its summer and
winter cells. The reader may be ready to believe that mercy had dictated
some slight solace for the miserable in this arrangement. But this would
be ascribing pity to a body which, to its latest moment, had no tie to
subject it to the weakness of humanity. So far from consulting the
sufferings of the captive, his winter cell was below the level of the
canals, while his summers were to be passed beneath the leads exposed to
the action of the burning sun of that climate. As the reader has
probably anticipated already, that Jacopo was in the prison on an errand
connected with some captive, this short explanation will enable him to
understand the secret allusion of his companion. He they sought had, in
truth, been recently conveyed from the damp cells where he had passed
the winter and spring, to the heated chambers beneath the roof.

Gelsomina continued to lead the way with a sadness of eye and feature
that betrayed her strong sympathy with the sufferings of her companion,
but without appearing to think further delay necessary. She had
communicated a circumstance which weighed heavily on her own mind, and,
like most of her mild temperament, who had dreaded such a duty, now that
it was discharged she experienced a sensible relief. They ascended many
flights of steps, opened and shut numberless doors, and threaded several
narrow corridors in silence, before reaching the place of destination.
While Gelsomina sought the key of the door before which they stopped, in
the large bunch she carried, the Bravo breathed the hot air of the attic
like one who was suffocating.