The Bravo (46 page)

"I would not distress thee out of bearing," added the artful daughter of
the wine-seller. "But that we are both in the closet of the gayest
cavalier of Venice, is beyond dispute."

"I have told thee that pity for another brought me hither."

"Pity for Don Camillo."

"For a noble lady—a young, a virtuous, and a beautiful wife—a daughter
of the Tiepolo—of the Tiepolo, Annina!"

"Why should a lady of the Tiepolo employ a girl of the public prisons!"

"Why!—because there has been injustice by those up above. There has
been a tumult among the fishermen—and the lady and her governess were
liberated by the rioters—and his Highness spoke to them in the great
court—and the Dalmatians were on the quay—and the prison was a refuge
for ladies of their quality, in a moment of so great terror—and the
Holy Church itself has blessed their love—"

Gelsomina could utter no more, but breathless with the wish to vindicate
herself, and wounded to the soul by the strange embarrassment of her
situation, she sobbed aloud. Incoherent as had been her language, she
had said enough to remove every doubt from the mind of Annina. Privy to
the secret marriage, to the rising of the fishermen, and to the
departure of the ladies from the convent on a distant island, where they
had been carried on quitting their own palace, the preceding night, and
whither she had been compelled to conduct Don Camillo, who had
ascertained the departure of those he sought without discovering their
destination, the daughter of the wine-seller readily comprehended, not
only the errand of her cousin, but the precise situation of the
fugitives.

"And thou believest this fiction, Gelsomina?" she said, affecting pity
for her cousin's credulity. "The characters of thy pretended daughter of
Tiepolo and her governess are no secrets to those who frequent the
piazza of San Marco."

"Hadst thou seen the beauty and innocence of the lady, Annina, thou
would'st not say this!"

"Blessed San Teodoro! What is more beautiful than vice! 'Tis the
cheapest artifice of the devil to deceive frail sinners. This thou hast
heard of thy confessor, Gelsomina, or he is of much lighter discourse
than mine."

"But why should a woman of this life enter the prisons?"

"They had good reasons to dread the Dalmatians, no doubt. But it is in
my power to tell thee more, of these thou hast entertained, with such
peril to thine own reputation. There are women in Venice who discredit
their sex in various ways, and of these more particularly she who calls
herself Florinda, is notorious for her agency in robbing St. Mark of his
revenue. She has received a largess from the Neapolitan, of wines grown
on his Calabrian mountains, and wishing to tamper with my honesty, she
offered the liquor to me, expecting one like me to forget my duty, and
to aid her in deceiving the Republic."

"Can this be true, Annina!"

"Why should I deceive thee! Are we not sisters' children, and though
affairs on the Lido keep me much from thy company, is not the love
between us natural! I complained to the authorities, and the liquors
were seized, and the pretended noble ladies were obliged to hide
themselves this very day. 'Tis thought they wish to flee the city with
their profligate Neapolitan. Driven to take shelter, they have sent thee
to acquaint him with their hiding-place, in order that he may come to
their aid."

"And why art thou here, Annina?"

"I marvel that thou didst not put the question sooner. Gino, the
gondolier of Don Camillo, has long been an unfavored suitor of mine, and
when this Florinda complained of my having, what every honest girl in
Venice should do, exposed her fraud to the authorities, she advised his
master to seize me, partly in revenge, and partly with the vain hope of
making me retract the complaint I have made. Thou hast heard of the
bold violence of these cavaliers when thwarted in their wills."

Annina then related the manner of her seizure, with sufficient
exactitude, merely concealing those facts that it was not her interest
to reveal.

"But there is a lady of the Tiepolo, Annina!"

"As sure as there are cousins like ourselves. Santa Madre di Dio! that
woman so treacherous and so bold should have met one of thy innocence!
It would have been better had they fallen in with me, who am too
ignorant for their cunning, blessed St. Anna knows!—but who have not to
learn their true characters."

"They did speak of thee, Annina!"

The glance which the wine-seller's daughter threw at her cousin, was
such as the treacherous serpent casts at the bird; but preserving her
self-possession she added—

"Not to my favor; it would sicken me to hear words of favor from such as
they!"

"They are not thy friends, Annina."

"Perhaps they told thee, child, that I was in the employment of the
council?"

"Indeed they did."

"No wonder. Your dishonest people can never believe one can do an act of
pure conscience. But here comes the Neapolitan.—Note the libertine,
Gelsomina, and thou wilt feel for him the same disgust as I!"

The door opened, and Don Camillo Monforte entered. There was an
appearance of distrust in his manner, which proved that he did not
expect to meet his bride. Gelsomina arose, and, though bewildered by the
tale of her cousin, and her own previous impressions, she stood
resembling a meek statue of modesty, awaiting his approach. The
Neapolitan was evidently struck by her beauty, and the simplicity of her
air, but his brow was fixed, like that of a man who had steeled his
feelings against deceit.

"Thou would'st see me?" he said.

"I had that wish, noble Signore, but—Annina—"

"Seeing another, thy mind hath changed."

"Signore, it has."

Don Camillo looked at her earnestly, and with manly regret.

"Thou art young for thy vocation—here is gold. Retire as thou
earnest.—But hold—dost thou know this Annina?"

"She is my mother's sister's daughter, noble Duca.

"Per Diana! a worthy sisterhood! Depart together, for I have no need of
either. But mark me," and as he spoke, Don Camillo took Annina by the
arm, and led her aside, when he continued with a low but menacing
voice—"Thou seest I am to be feared, as well as thy Councils. Thou
canst not cross the threshold of thy father without my knowledge. If
prudent, thou wilt teach thy tongue discretion. Do as thou wilt, I fear
thee not; but remember, prudence."

Annina made an humble reverence, as if in acknowledgment of the wisdom
of his advice, and taking the arm of her half-unconscious cousin, she
again curtsied, and hurried from the room. As the presence of their
master in his closet was known to them, none of the menials presumed to
stop those who issued from the privileged room. Gelsomina, who was even
more impatient than her wily companion to escape from a place she
believed polluted, was nearly breathless when she reached the gondola.
Its owner was in waiting on the steps, and in a moment the boat whirled
away from a spot which both of those it contained were, though for
reasons so very different, glad to quit.

Gelsomina had forgotten her mask in her hurry, and the gondola was no
sooner in the great canal than she put her face at the window of the
pavilion in quest of the evening air. The rays of the moon fell upon her
guileless eye, and a cheek that was now glowing, partly with offended
pride, and partly with joy at her escape from a situation she felt to
be so degrading. Her forehead was touched with a finger, and turning she
saw the gondolier making a sign of caution. He then slowly lifted his
mask.

"Carlo!" had half burst from her lips, but another sign suppressed the
cry.

Gelsomina withdrew her head, and, after her beating heart had ceased to
throb, she bowed her face and murmured thanksgivings at finding herself,
at such a moment, under the protection of one who possessed all her
confidence.

The gondolier asked no orders for his direction. The boat moved on,
taking the direction of the port, which appeared perfectly natural to
the two females.

Annina supposed it was returning to the square, the place she would have
sought had she been alone, and Gelsomina, who believed that he whom she
called Carlo, toiled regularly as a gondolier for support, fancied, of
course, that he was taking her to her ordinary residence.

But though the innocent can endure the scorn of the world, it is hard
indeed to be suspected by those they love. All that Annina had told her
of the character of Don Camillo and his associates came gradually across
the mind of the gentle Gelsomina, and she felt the blood creeping to her
temples, as she saw the construction her lover might put on her conduct.
A dozen times did the artless girl satisfy herself with saying inwardly,
"he knows me and will believe the best," and as often did her feelings
prompt her to tell the truth. Suspense is far more painful, at such
moments, than even vindication, which, in itself, is a humiliating duty
to the virtuous. Pretending a desire to breathe the air, she left her
cousin in the canopy. Annina was not sorry to be alone, for she had need
to reflect on all the windings of the sinuous path on which she had
entered.

Gelsomina succeeded in passing the pavilion, and in gaining the side of
the gondolier.

"Carlo!"—she said, observing that he continued to row in silence.

"Gelsomina!"

"Thou hast not questioned me!"

"I know thy treacherous cousin, and can believe thou art her dupe. The
moment to learn the truth will come."

"Thou didst not know me, Carlo, when I called thee from the bridge?"

"I did not. Any fare that would occupy my time was welcome."

"Why dost thou call Annina treacherous?"

"Because Venice does not hold a more wily heart, or a falser tongue."

Gelsomina remembered the warning of Donna Florinda. Possessed of the
advantage of blood, and that reliance which the inexperienced always
place in the integrity of their friends, until exposure comes to destroy
the illusion, Annina had found it easy to persuade her cousin of the
unworthiness of her guests. But here was one who had all her sympathies,
who openly denounced Annina herself. In such a dilemma the bewildered
girl did what nature and her feelings suggested. She recounted, in a low
but rapid voice, the incidents of the evening, and Annina's construction
of the conduct of the females whom she had left behind in the prison.

Jacopo listened so intently that his oar dragged in the water.

"Enough," he said, when Gelsomina, blushing with her own earnestness to
stand exculpated in his eyes, had done; "I understand it all. Distrust
thy cousin, for the Senate itself is not more false."

The pretended Carlo spoke cautiously, but in a firm voice. Gelsomina
took his meaning, though wondering at what she heard, and returned to
Annina within. The gondola proceeded, as if nothing had occurred.

"Enough.
I could be merry now: Hubert, I love thee;
Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee:
Remember."
KING JOHN.

Jacopo was deeply practised in the windings of Venetian deceit. He knew
how unceasingly the eyes of the Councils, through their agents, were on
the movements of those in whom they took an interest, and he was far
from feeling all the advantage circumstances had seemingly thrown in his
way. Annina was certainly in his power, and it was not possible that she
had yet communicated the intelligence, derived from Gelsomina, to any of
her employers. But a gesture, a look in passing the prison-gates, the
appearance of duresse, or an exclamation, might give the alarm to some
one of the thousand spies of the police. The disposal of Annina's person
in some place of safety, therefore, became the first and the most
material act. To return to the palace of Don Camillo, would be to go
into the midst of the hirelings of the Senate; and although the
Neapolitan, relying on his rank and influence, had preferred this step,
when little importance was attached to the detention of the girl, and
when all she knew had been revealed, the case was altered, now that she
might become the connecting link in the information necessary to enable
the officers to find the fugitives.

The gondola moved on. Palace after palace was passed, and the impatient
Annina thrust her head from a window to note its progress. They came
among the shipping of the port, and her uneasiness sensibly increased.
Making? pretext similar to that of Gelsomina, the wine-seller's daughter
quitted the pavilion, to steal to the side of the gondolier.

"I would be landed quickly at the water-gate of the Doge's palace," she
said, slipping a piece of silver into the hand of the boatman.

"You shall be served, Bella Donna. But—Diamine! I marvel that a girl of
thy wit should not scent the treasures in yonder felucca!"

"Dost thou mean the Sorrentine?"

"What other padrone brings as well flavored liquors within the Lido!
Quiet thy impatience to land, daughter of honest old Maso, and traffic
with the padrone, for the comfort of us of the canals."

"How! Thou knowest me, then?"

"To be the pretty wine-seller of the Lido. Corpo di Bacco! Thou art as
well known as the sea-wall itself to us gondoliers."

"Why art thou masked? Thou canst not be Luigi!"

"It is little matter whether I am called Luigi, or Enrico, or Giorgio; I
am thy customer, and honor the shortest hair of thy eyebrows. Thou
knowest, Annina, that the young patricians have their frolics, and they
swear us gondoliers to keep secret till all danger of detection is over;
were any impertinent eyes following me, I might be questioned as to the
manner of having passed the earlier hours."

"Methinks it would be better to have given thee gold, and to have sent
thee at once to thy home."

"To be followed like a denounced Hebrew to my door. When I have
confounded my boat with a thousand others it will be time to uncover.
Wilt thou to the Bella Sorrentina?"