The Bravo: A Tale. Джеймс Фенимор Купер

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      "Dost thou take me for a jeweller of the Rialto that thou speakest to me of rings?"

      "I take you for one well known and much valued by many of name and quality, here in Venice, as witness my errand from my own master."

      "Remove thy mask. Men of fair dealing need not hide the features which nature has given them."

      "You speak nothing but truths, Signor Frontoni, which is little remarkable considering thy opportunities of looking into the motives of men. There is little in my face to pay you for the trouble of casting a glance at it. I would as lief do as others in this gay season, if it be equally agreeable to you."

      "Do as thou wilt; but I pray thee to give me the same permission."

      "There are few so bold as to dispute thy pleasure, Signore."

      "It is, to be alone."

      "Cospetto! There is not a man in Venice who would more gladly consult it, if my master's errand were fairly done!" muttered Gino, between his teeth. "I have here a packet, which it is my duty to put into your hands, Signore, and into those of no other."

      "I know thee not—thou hast a name?"

      "Not in the sense in which you speak, Signore. As to that sort of reputation I am as nameless as a foundling."

      "If thy master is of no more note than thyself the packet may be returned."

      "There are few within the dominions of St. Mark of better lineage or of fairer hopes than the Duke of Sant' Agata."

      The cold expression of the Bravo's countenance changed.

      "If thou comest from Don Camillo Monforte, why dost thou hesitate to proclaim it? Where are his requests?"

      "I know not whether it is his pleasure or that of another which this paper contains, but such as it is, Signor Jacopo, my duty commands me to deliver it to thee."

      The packet was received calmly, though the organ which glanced at its seal and its superscription, gleamed with an expression which the credulous gondolier fancied to resemble that of the tiger at the sight of blood.

      "Thou said'st something of a ring. Dost thou bear thy master's signet? I am much accustomed to see pledges ere I give faith."

      "Blessed San Teodore grant that I did! Were it as heavy as a skin of wine, I would willingly bear the load; but one that I mistook for you, Master Jacopo, has it on his own light finger, I fear."

      "This is an affair that thou wilt settle with thy master," returned the Bravo, coldly, again examining the impression of the seal.

      "If you are acquainted with the writing of my master," hurriedly remarked Gino, who trembled for the fate of the packet, "you will see his skill in the turn of those letters. There are few nobles in Venice, or indeed in the Sicilies, who have a more scholarly hand, with a quill, than Don Camillo Monforte; I could not do the thing half so well myself."

      "I am no clerk," observed the Bravo, without betraying shame at the confession. "The art of deciphering a scroll, like this, was never taught me; if thou art so expert in the skill of a penman, tell me the name the packet bears."

      "'Twould little become me to breathe a syllable concerning any of my master's secrets," returned the gondolier, drawing himself up in sudden reserve. "It is enough that he bid me deliver the letter; after which I should think it presumption even to whisper more."

      The dark eye of the Bravo was seen rolling over the person of his companion, by the light of the moon, in a manner that caused the blood of the latter to steal towards his heart.

      "I bid thee read to me aloud the name the paper bears," said Jacopo, sternly. "Here is none but the lion and the saint above our heads to listen."

      "Just San Marco! who can tell what ear is open or what ear is shut in Venice? If you please, Signor Frontoni, we will postpone the examination to a more suitable occasion."

      "Friend, I do not play the fool! The name, or show me some gage that thou art sent by him thou hast named, else take back the packet; 'tis no affair for my hand."

      "Reflect a single moment on the consequences, Signor Jacopo, before you come to a determination so hasty."

      "I know no consequences which can befall a man who refuses to receive a message like this."

      "Per Diana! Signore, the Duca will not be likely to leave me an ear to hear the good advice of Father Battista."

      "Then will the Duca save the public executioner some trouble."

      As he spoke, the Bravo cast the packet at the feet of the gondolier, and began to walk calmly up the piazzetta. Gino seized the letter, and, with his brain in a whirl, with the effort to recall some one of his master's acquaintances to whom he would be likely to address an epistle on such an occasion, he followed.

      "I wonder, Signor Jacopo, that a man of your sagacity has not remembered that a packet to be delivered to himself should bear his own name."

      The Bravo took the paper, and held the superscription again to the light.

      "That is not so. Though unlearned, necessity has taught me to know when I am meant."

      "Diamine! That is just my own case, Signore. Were the letter for me, now the old should not know its young quicker than I would come at the truth."

      "Then thou canst not read?"

      "I never pretended to the art. The little said was merely about writing. Learning, as you well understand, Master Jacopo, is divided into reading, writing, and figures; and a man may well understand one, without knowing a word of the others. It is not absolutely necessary to be a bishop to have a shaved head, or a Jew to wear a beard."

      "Thou would'st have done better to have said this at once; go, I will think of the matter."

      Gino gladly turned away, but he had not left the other many paces before he saw a female form gliding behind the pedestal of one of the granite columns. Moving swiftly in a direction to uncover this seeming spy, he saw at once that Annina had been a witness of his interview with the Bravo.

Chapter IV.

       Table of Contents

      "'T will make me think

       The world is full of rubs, and that my fortune

       Runs 'gainst the bias."

      RICHARD THE SECOND.

      Though Venice at that hour was so gay in her squares, the rest of the town was silent as the grave. A city in which the hoof of horse or the rolling of wheels is never heard, necessarily possesses a character of its own; but the peculiar form of the government, and the long training of the people in habits of caution, weighed on the spirits of the gay. There were times and places, it is true, when the buoyancy of СКАЧАТЬ