"n.o.ble Signore, I obey. The crest is of the family of Monforte, the last senator of which died some fifteen years since."

"And his jewels?"

"They have pa.s.sed with other movables of which the state taketh no account, into the keeping of his kinsman and successor--if it be the senate's pleasure that there shall be a successor to that ancient name--Don Camillo of St. Agata. The wealthy Neapolitan who now urges his rights here in Venice, is the present owner of this precious stone."

"Give me the ring; this must be looked to--hast thou more to say?"

"Nothing, Signore--unless to pet.i.tion, if there is to be any condemnation and sale of the jewel, that it may first be offered to an ancient servitor of the Republic, who hath much reason to regret that his age hath been less prosperous than his youth."

"Thou shalt not be forgotten. I hear it said, Hosea, that divers of our young n.o.bles frequent thy Hebrew shops with intent to borrow gold, which, lavished in present prodigality, is to be bitterly repaid at a later day by self-denial, and such embarra.s.sments as suit not the heirs of n.o.ble names. Take heed of this matter--for if the displeasure of the council should alight on any of thy race, there would be long and serious accounts to settle! Hast thou had employment of late with other signets besides this of the Neapolitan?"

"Unless in the vulgar way of our daily occupation, none of note, ill.u.s.trious Signore."

"Regard this," continued the Signor Gradenigo, first searching in a secret drawer, whence he drew a small bit of paper, to which a morsel of wax adhered; "canst thou form any conjecture, by the impression, concerning him who used that seal?"

The jeweller took the paper and held it towards the light, while his glittering eyes intently examined the conceit.

"This would surpa.s.s the wisdom of the son of David!" he said, after a long and seemingly fruitless examination; "here is naught but some fanciful device of gallantry, such as the light-hearted cavaliers of the city are fond of using, when they tempt the weaker s.e.x with fair words and seductive vanities."

"It is a heart pierced with the dart of love, and the motto of _'pensa al cuore trafitto d'amore?'_"

"Naught else, as my eyes do their duty. I should think there was but very little meant by those words, Signore!"

"That as may be. Thou hast never sold a jewel with that conceit?"

"Just Samuel! We dispose of them daily to Christians of both s.e.xes and all ages. I know no device of greater frequency, whereby I conceive there is much commerce in this light fidelity."

"He who used it did well in concealing his thoughts beneath so general a dress! There will be a reward of a hundred sequins to him who traces the owner."

Hosea was about to return the seal as beyond his knowledge, when this remark fell casually from the lips of the Signor Gradenigo. In a moment his eyes were fortified with a gla.s.s of microscopic power, and the paper was again before the lamp.

"I disposed of a cornelian of no great price, which bore this conceit, to the wife of the emperor's amba.s.sador, but conceiving there was no more in the purchase than some waywardness of fancy, I took no precaution to note the stone. A gentleman in the family of the Legate of Ravenna, also trafficked with me for an amethyst of the same design, but with him neither did I hold it important to be particular. Ha! here is a private mark, that in truth seemeth to be of my own hand!"

"Dost thou find a clue? What is the sign of which thou speakest?"

"Naught, n.o.ble senator, but a slur in a letter, which would not be apt to catch the eye of an over-credulous maiden."

"And thou parted with the seal to----?"

Hosea hesitated, for he foresaw some danger of losing his reward by a too hasty communication of the truth.

"If it be important that the fact be known, Signore," he said, "I will consult my books. In a matter of this gravity, the senate should not be misled."

"Thou sayest well. The affair is grave, and the reward a sufficient pledge that we so esteem it."

"Something was said, ill.u.s.trious Signore, of a hundred sequins; but my mind taketh little heed of such particulars when the good of Venice is in question."

"A hundred is the sum I promised."

"I parted with a signet-ring, bearing some such design, to a female in the service of the Nuncio's first gentleman. But this seal cannot come of that, since a woman of her station----"

"Art sure?" eagerly interrupted the Signor Gradenigo.

Hosea looked earnestly at his companion; and reading in his eye and countenance that the clue was agreeable, he answered promptly,--

"As that I live under the law of Moses! The bauble had been long on hand without an offer, and I abandoned it to the uses of my money."

"The sequins are thine, excellent Jew! This clears the mystery of every doubt. Go; thou shalt have thy reward; and if thou hast any particulars in thy secret register, let me be quickly possessed of them. Go to, good Hosea, and be punctual as of wont. I tire of these constant exercises of the spirit."

The Hebrew, exulting in his success, now took his leave, with a manner in which habitual cupidity and subdued policy completely mastered every other feeling. He disappeared by the pa.s.sage through which he had entered.

It seemed, by the manner of the Signor Gradenigo, that the receptions for that evening had now ended. He carefully examined the locks of several secret drawers in his cabinet, extinguished the lights, closed and secured the doors, and quitted the place. For some time longer, however, he paced one of the princ.i.p.al rooms of the outer suite, until the usual hour having arrived, he sought his rest, and the palace was closed for the night.

The reader will have gained some insight into the character of the individual who was the chief actor in the foregoing scenes. The Signor Gradenigo was born with all the sympathies and natural kindliness of other men, but accident, and an education which had received a strong bias from the inst.i.tutions of the self-styled Republic, had made him the creature of a conventional policy. To him Venice seemed a free state, because he partook so largely of the benefits of her social system; and, though shrewd and practised in most of the affairs of the world, his faculties, on the subject of the political ethics of his country, were possessed of a rare and accommodating dulness. A senator, he stood in relation to the state as a director of a moneyed inst.i.tution is proverbially placed in respect to his corporation; an agent of its collective measures, removed from the responsibilities of the man. He could reason warmly, if not acutely, concerning the principles of government, and it would be difficult, even in this money-getting age, to find a more zealous convert to the opinion that property was not a subordinate, but the absorbing interest of civilized life. He would talk ably of character, and honor, and virtue, and religion, and the rights of persons, but when called upon to act in their behalf, there was in his mind a tendency to blend them all with worldly policy, that proved as unerring as the gravitation of matter to the earth's centre. As a Venetian he was equally opposed to the domination of one, or of the whole; being, as respects the first, a furious republican, and, in reference to the last, leaning to that singular sophism which calls the dominion of the majority the rule of many tyrants! In short, he was an aristocrat; and no man had more industriously or more successfully persuaded himself into the belief of all the dogmas that were favorable to his caste. He was a powerful advocate of vested rights, for their possession was advantageous to himself; he was sensitively alive to innovations on usages and to vicissitudes in the histories of families, for calculation had subst.i.tuted taste for principles; nor was he backward, on occasion, in defending his opinions by a.n.a.logies drawn from the decrees of Providence. With a philosophy that seemed to satisfy himself, he contended that, as G.o.d had established orders throughout his own creation, in a descending chain from angels to men, it was safe to follow an example which emanated from a wisdom that was infinite.

Nothing could be more sound than the basis of his theory, though its application had the capital error of believing there was any imitation of nature in an endeavor to supplant it.

CHAPTER VII.

"The moon went down; and nothing now was seen Save where the lamp of a Madonna shone Faintly."

ROGERS.

Just as the secret audiences of the Palazzo Gradenigo were ended, the great square of St. Mark began to lose a portion of its gaiety. The cafes were now occupied by parties who had the means, and were in the humor, to put their indulgences to more substantial proof than the pa.s.sing gibe or idle laugh; while those who were reluctantly compelled to turn their thoughts from the levities of the moment to the cares of the morrow, were departing in crowds to humble roofs and hard pillows.

There remained one of the latter cla.s.s, however, who continued to occupy a spot near the junction of the two squares, as motionless as if his naked feet grew to the stone on which he stood. It was Antonio.

The position of the fisherman brought the whole of his muscular form and bronzed features beneath the rays of the moon. The dark, anxious, and stern eyes were fixed upon the mild orb, as if their owner sought to penetrate into another world, in quest of that peace which he had never known in this. There was suffering in the expression of the weather-worn face; but it was the suffering of one whose native sensibilities had been a little deadened by too much familiarity with the lot of the feeble. To one who considered life and humanity in any other than their familiar and vulgar aspects, he would have presented a touching picture of a n.o.ble nature, enduring with pride, blunted by habit; while to him, who regards the accidental dispositions of society as paramount laws, he might have presented the image of dogged turbulence and discontent, healthfully repressed by the hand of power. A heavy sigh struggled from the chest of the old man, and, stroking down the few hairs which time had left him, he lifted his cap from the pavement, and prepared to move.

"Thou art late from thy bed, Antonio," said a voice at his elbow. "The triglie must be of good price, or of great plenty, that one of thy trade can spare time to air himself in the Piazza at this hour. Thou hearest, the clock is telling the fifth hour of the night."

The fisherman bent his head aside, and regarded the figure of his masked companion, for a moment, with indifference, betraying neither curiosity nor feeling at his address.

"Since thou knowest me," he answered, "it is probable thou knowest that in quitting this place I shall go to an empty dwelling. Since thou knowest me so well, thou should'st also know my wrongs."

"Who hath injured thee, worthy fisherman, that thou speakest so boldly beneath the very windows of the Doge?"

"The state."

"This is hardy language for the ear of St. Mark! Were it too loudly spoken, yonder lion might growl. Of what dost thou accuse the Republic?"

"Lead me to them that sent thee, and I will spare the trouble of a go-between. I am ready to tell my wrongs to the Doge, on his throne; for what can one, poor and old as I, dread from their anger?"

"Thou believest me sent to betray thee?"

"Thou knowest thine own errand."

The other removed his mask, and turned his face towards the moon.