demanded Gelsomina, who saw the necessity of being firm.

"Signora, si----"

"Is your lord in the palace?"

"Signora, he is--and he is not. What beautiful lady shall I tell him does him this honor?"

"If he be not at home it will not be necessary to tell him anything. If he is, I could wish to see him."

The domestics, of whom there were several, put their heads together, and seemed to dispute on the propriety of receiving the visit. At this instant a gondolier in a flowered jacket entered the vestibule.

Gelsomina took courage at his good-natured eye and frank manner.

"Do you serve Don Camillo Monforte?" she asked, as he pa.s.sed her, on his way to the ca.n.a.l.

"With the oar, Bellissima Donna," answered Gino, touching his cap, though scarce looking aside at the question.

"And could he be told that a female wishes earnestly to speak to him in private?--A female."

"Santa Maria! Bella Donna, there is no end to females who come on these errands in Venice. You might better pay a visit to the statue of San Teodore, in the piazza, than see my master at this moment; the stone will give you the better reception."

"And this he commands you to tell all of my s.e.x who come!"

"Diavolo! Lady, you are particular in your questions. Perhaps my master might, on a strait, receive one of the s.e.x I could name, but on the honor of a gondolier he is not the most gallant cavalier of Venice, just at this moment."

"If there is one to whom he would pay this deference, you are bold for a servitor. How know you I am not that one?"

Gino started. He examined the figure of the applicant, and lifting his cap, he bowed.

"Lady, I do not know anything about it," he said; "you may be his Highness the Doge, or the amba.s.sador of the emperor. I pretend to know nothing in Venice of late----"

The words of Gino were cut short by a tap on the shoulder from the public gondolier, who had hastily entered the vestibule. The man whispered in the ear of Don Camillo's servitor.

"This is not a moment to refuse any," he said. "Let the stranger go up."

Gino hesitated no longer. With the decision of a favored menial he pushed the groom of the chambers aside, and offered to conduct Gelsomina himself to the presence of his master. As they ascended the stairs, three of the inferior servants disappeared.

The palace of Don Camillo had an air of more than Venetian gloom. The rooms were dimly lighted, many of the walls had been stripped of the most precious of their pictures, and in other respects a jealous eye might have detected evidence of a secret intention, on the part of its owner, not to make a permanent residence of the dwelling. But these were particulars that Gelsomina did not note, as she followed Gino through the apartments, into the more private parts of the building. Here the gondolier unlocked a door, and regarding his companion with an air, half-doubting, half-respectful, he made a sign for her to enter.

"My master commonly receives the ladies here," he said. "Enter, eccellenza, while I run to tell him of his happiness."

Gelsomina did not hesitate, though she felt a violent throb at the heart when she heard the key turning in the lock behind her. She was in an ante-chamber, and inferring from the light which shone through the door of an adjoining room that she was to proceed, she went on. No sooner had she entered the little closet than she found herself alone, with one of her own s.e.x.

"Annina!" burst from the lips of the unpractised prison-girl, under the impulse of surprise.

"Gelsomina! The simple, quiet, whispering, modest Gelsomina!" returned the other.

The words of Annina admitted but of one construction. Wounded, like the bruised sensitive plant, Gelsomina withdrew her mask for air, actually gasping for breath, between offended pride and wonder.

"Thou here!" she added, scarce knowing-what she uttered.

"Thou here!" repeated Annina, with such a laugh as escapes the degraded when they believe the innocent reduced to their own level.

"Nay, I come on an errand of pity."

"Santa Maria! we are both here with the same end!"

"Annina! I know not what thou would'st say! This is surely the palace of Don Camillo Monforte! a n.o.ble Neapolitan, who urges claims to the honors of the Senate?"

"The gayest, the handsomest, the richest, and the most inconstant cavalier in Venice! Hadst thou been here a thousand times thou could'st not be better informed!"

Gelsomina listened in horror. Her artful cousin, who knew her character to the full extent that vice can comprehend innocence, watched her colorless cheek and contracting eye with secret triumph. At the first moment she had believed all that she insinuated, but second thoughts and a view of the visible distress of the frightened girl gave a new direction to her suspicions.

"But I tell thee nothing new," she quickly added. "I only regret thou should'st find me, where, no doubt, you expected to meet the Duca di Sant' Agata himself."

"Annina!--This from thee!"

"Thou surely didst not come to his palace to seek thy cousin!"

Gelsomina had long been familiar with grief, but until this moment she had never felt the deep humiliation of shame. Tears started from her eyes, and she sank back into a seat, in utter inability to stand.

"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 n.o.ble 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 embarra.s.sment 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 s.e.x 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 n.o.ble 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?"