The Bravo (40 page)

Had the passion of the gondolier been very deep or very sensitive, this
plain dealing might have given him a shock; but Gino appeared to take
the repulse as coolly as it was given.

"I am used to thy caprices, Annina," he said, throwing himself upon a
bench like one determined to remain where he was. "Some young patrician
has kissed his hand to thee as thou hast crossed San Marco, or thy
father has made a better day of it than common on the Lido; thy pride
always mounts with thy father's purse."

"Diamine! to hear the fellow one would think he had my troth, and that
he only waited in the sacristy for the candles to be lighted to receive
my vows! What art thou to me, Gino Tullini, that thou takest on thee
these sudden airs?"

"And what art thou to me, Annina, that thou playest off these worn-out
caprices on Don Camillo's confidant?"

"Out upon thee, insolent! I have no time to waste in idleness."

"Thou art in much haste to-night, Annina."

"To be rid of thee. Now listen to what I say, Gino, and let every word
go to thy heart, for they are the last thou wilt ever hear from me. Thou
servest a decayed noble, one who will shortly be chased in disgrace from
the city, and with him will go all his idle servitors. I choose to
remain in the city of my birth."

The gondolier laughed in real indifference at her affected scorn. But
remembering his errand, he quickly assumed a graver air, and endeavored
to still the resentment of his fickle mistress by a more respectful
manner.

"St. Mark protect me, Annina!" he said. "If we are not to kneel before
the good priore together, it is no reason we should not bargain in
wines. Here have I come into the dark canals, within stone's throw of
thy very door, with a gondola of mellow Lachryma Christi, such as honest
'Maso, thy father, has rarely dealt in, and thou treatest me as a dog
that is chased from a church!"

"I have little time for thee or thy wines to-night, Gino. Hadst thou not
stayed me, I should already have been abroad and happy."

"Close thy door, girl, and make little ceremony with an old friend,"
said the gondolier, officiously offering to aid her in securing the
dwelling. Annina took him at his word, and as both appeared to work with
good will, the house was locked, and the wilful girl and her suitor were
soon in the street. Their route lay across the bridge already named.
Gino pointed to the gondola as he said, "Thou art not to be tempted,
Annina?"

"Thy rashness in leading the smugglers to my father's door will bring us
to harm some day, silly fellow!"

"The boldness of the act will prevent suspicion."

"Of what vineyard is the liquor?"

"It came from the foot of Vesuvius, and is ripened by the heat of the
volcano. Should my friends part with it to thy enemy, old Beppo, thy
father will rue the hour!"

Annina, who was much addicted to consulting her interests on all
occasions, cast a longing glance at the boat. The canopy was closed, but
it was large, and her willing imagination readily induced her to fancy
it well filled with skins from Naples.

"This will be the last of thy visits to our door, Gino?"

"As thou shalt please. But go down and taste."

Annina hesitated, and, as a woman is said always to do when she
hesitates, she complied. They reached the boat with quick steps, and
without regarding the men who were still lounging on the thwarts, Annina
glided immediately beneath the canopy. A fifth gondolier was lying at
length on the cushions, for, unlike a boat devoted to the contraband,
the canopy had the usual arrangement of a barque of the canals.

"I see nothing to turn me aside!" exclaimed the disappointed girl. "Wilt
thou aught with me, Signore?"

"Thou art welcome. We shall not part so readily as before."

The stranger had arisen while speaking, and as he ended, he laid a hand
on the shoulder of his visitor, who found herself confronted with Don
Camillo Monforte.

Annina was too much practised in deception to indulge in any of the
ordinary female symptoms, either of real or of affected alarm.
Commanding her features, though in truth her limbs shook, she said with
assumed pleasantry—

"The secret trade is honored in the services of the noble Duke of St.
Agata!"

"I am not here to trifle, girl, as thou wilt see in the end. Thou hast
thy choice before thee, frank confession or my just anger."

Don Camillo spoke calmly, but in a manner that plainly showed Annina she
had to deal with a resolute man.

"What confession would your eccellenza have from the daughter of a poor
wine-seller?" she asked, her voice trembling in spite of herself.

"The truth—and remember that this time we do not part until I am
satisfied. The Venetian police and I are now fairly at issue, and thou
art the first fruits of my plan."

"Signor Duca, this is a bold step to take in the heart of the canals!"

"The consequences be mine. Thy interest will teach thee to confess."

"I shall make no great merit, Signore, of doing that which is forced
upon me. As it is your pleasure to know the little I can tell you, I am
happy to be permitted to relate it."

"Speak then; for time presses."

"Signore, I shall not pretend to deny you have been ill-treated.
Capperi! how ill has the council treated you! A noble cavalier, of a
strange country, who, the meanest gossip in Venice knows, has a just
right to the honors of the Senate, to be so treated is a disgrace to the
Republic! I do not wonder that your eccellenza is out of humor with
them. Blessed St. Mark himself would lose his patience to be thus
treated!"

"A truce with this, girl, and to your facts."

"My facts, Signor Duca, are a thousand times clearer than the sun, and
they are all at your eccellenza's service. I am sure I wish I had more
of them, since they give you pleasure."

"Enough of this profession. Speak to the facts themselves."

Annina, who in the manner of most of her class in Italy, that had been
exposed to the intrigues of the towns, had been lavish of her words, now
found means to cast a glance at the water, when she saw that the boat
had already quitted the canals, and was rowing easily out upon the
Lagunes. Perceiving how completely she was in the power of Don Camillo,
she began to feel the necessity of being more explicit.

"Your eccellenza has probably suspected that the council found means to
be acquainted with your intention to fly from the city with Donna
Violetta?"

"All that is known to me."

"Why they chose me to be the servitor of the noble lady is beyond my
powers to discover. Our Lady of Loretto! I am not the person to be sent
for, when the state wishes to part two lovers!"

"I have borne with thee, Annina, because I would let the gondola get
beyond the limits of the city; but now thou must throw aside thy
subterfuge, and speak plainly. Where didst thou leave my wife?"

"Does your eccellenza then think the state will admit the marriage to be
legal?"

"Girl, answer, or I will find means to make thee. Where didst thou leave
my wife?"

"Blessed St. Theodore! Signore, the agents of the Republic had little
need of me, and I was put on the first bridge that the gondola passed."

"Thou strivest to deceive me in vain. Thou wast on the Lagunes till a
late hour in the day, and I have notice of thy having visited the prison
of St. Mark as the sun was setting; and this on thy return from the boat
of Donna Violetta."

There was no acting in the wonder of Annina.

"Santissima Maria! You are better served, Signore, than the council
thinks!"

"As thou wilt find to thy cost, unless the truth be spoken. From what
convent did'st thou come?"

"Signore, from none. If your eccellenza has discovered that the Senate
has shut up the Signora Tiepolo in the prison of St. Mark, for
safe-keeping, it is no fault of mine."

"Thy artifice is useless, Annina," observed Don Camillo, calmly. "Thou
wast in the prison, in quest of forbidden articles that thou hadst long
left with thy cousin Gelsomina, the keeper's daughter, who little
suspected thy errand, and on whose innocence and ignorance of the world
thou hast long successfully practised. Donna Violetta is no vulgar
prisoner, to be immured in a jail."

"Santissima Madre di Dio!"

Amazement confined the answer of the girl to this single, but strong
exclamation.

"Thou seest the impossibility of deception. I am acquainted with so much
of thy movements as to render it impossible that thou should'st lead me
far astray. Thou art not wont to visit thy cousin; but as thou entered
the canals this evening—"

A shout on the water caused Don Camillo to pause. On looking out he saw
a dense body of boats sweeping towards the town as if they were all
impelled by a single set of oars. A thousand voices were speaking at
once, and occasionally a general and doleful cry proclaimed that the
floating multitude, which came on, was moved by a common feeling. The
singularity of the spectacle, and the fact that his own gondola lay
directly in the route of the fleet, which was composed of several
hundred boats, drove the examination of the girl, momentarily, from the
thoughts of the noble.

"What have we here, Jacopo?" he demanded, in an under-tone, of the
gondolier who steered his own barge.

"They are fishermen, Signore, and by the manner in which they come down
towards the canals, I doubt they are bent on some disturbance. There has
been discontent among them since the refusal of the Doge to liberate the
boy of their companion from the galleys."

Curiosity induced the people of Don Camillo to linger a minute, and then
they perceived the necessity of pulling out of the course of the
floating mass, which came on like a torrent, the men sweeping their
boats with that desperate stroke which is so often seen among the
Italian oarsmen. A menacing hail, with a command to remain, admonished
Don Camillo of the necessity of downright flight, or of obedience. He
chose the latter, as the least likely to interfere with his own plans.

"Who art thou?" demanded one, who had assumed the character of a leader.
"If men of the Lagunes and Christians, join your friends, and away with
us to St. Mark for justice!"

"What means this tumult?" asked Don Camillo, whose dress effectually
concealed his rank, a disguise that he completed by adopting the
Venetian dialect. "Why are you here in these numbers, friends?"

"Behold!"

Don Camillo turned, and he beheld the withered features and glaring eyes
of old Antonio, fixed in death. The explanation was made by a hundred
voices, accompanied by oaths so bitter, and denunciations so deep, that
had not Don Camillo been prepared by the tale of Jacopo, he would have
found great difficulty in understanding what he heard.

In dragging the Lagunes for fish, the body of Antonio had been found,
and the result was, first, a consultation on the probable means of his
death, and then a collection of the men of his calling, and finally the
scene described.

"Giustizia!" exclaimed fifty excited voices, as the grim visage of the
fisherman was held towards the light of the moon; "Giustizia in Palazzo
e paue in Piazza!"

"Ask it of the Senate!" returned Jacopo, not attempting to conceal the
derision of his tones.

"Thinkest thou our fellow has suffered for his boldness yesterday?"

"Stranger things have happened in Venice!"

"They forbid us to cast our nets in the Canale Orfano, lest the secrets
of justice should be known, and yet they have grown bold enough to drown
one of our own people in the midst of our gondolas!"

"Justice, justice!" shouted numberless hoarse throats.

"Away to St. Mark's! Lay the body at the feet of the Doge! Away,
brethren, Antonio's blood is on their souls!"

Bent on a wild and undigested scheme of asserting their wrongs, the
fishermen again plied their oars, and the whole fleet swept away, as if
it was composed of a single mass.

The meeting, though so short, was accompanied by cries, menaces, and all
those accustomed signs of rage which mark a popular tumult among those
excitable people, and it had produced a sensible effect on the nerves of
Annina. Don Camillo profited by her evident terror to press his
questions, for the hour no longer admitted of trifling.

The result was, that while the agitated mob swept into the mouth of the
Great Canal, raising hoarse shouts, the gondola of Don Camillo Monforte
glided away across the wide and tranquil surface of the Lagunes.

"A Clifford, a Clifford! we'll follow the king and Clifford."
HENRY VI.

The tranquillity of the best ordered society may be disturbed, at any
time, by a sudden outbreaking of the malcontents. Against such a
disaster there is no more guarding than against the commission of more
vulgar crimes; but when a government trembles for its existence, before
the turbulence of popular commotion, it is reasonable to infer some
radical defect in its organization. Men will rally around their
institutions, as freely as they rally around any other cherished
interest, when they merit their care, and there can be no surer sign of
their hollowness than when the rulers seriously apprehend the breath of
the mob. No nation ever exhibited more of this symptomatic terror, on
all occasions of internal disturbance, than the pretending Republic of
Venice. There was a never-ceasing and a natural tendency to dissolution,
in her factious system, which was only resisted by the alertness of her
aristocracy, and the political buttresses which their ingenuity had
reared. Much was said of the venerable character of her polity, and of
its consequent security, but it is in vain that selfishness contends
with truth. Of all the fallacies with which man has attempted to gloss
his expedients, there is none more evidently false than that which
infers the duration of a social system, from the length of time it has
already lasted. It would be quite as reasonable to affirm that the man
of seventy has the same chances for life as the youth of fifteen, or
that the inevitable fate of all things of mortal origin was not
destruction. There is a period in human existence when the principle of
vitality has to contend with the feebleness of infancy, but this
probationary state passed, the child attains the age when it has the
most reasonable prospect of living. Thus the social, like any other
machine, which has run just long enough to prove its fitness, is at the
precise period when it is least likely to fail, and although he that is
young may not live to become old, it is certain that he who is old was
once young. The empire of China was, in its time, as youthful as our own
republic, nor can we see any reason for believing that it is to outlast
us, from the decrepitude which is a natural companion of its years.