“The leap of the winged lion is much curtailed, excellent Sir, or these things might not be!  It is no longer in our power to persuade, or to command, as of old; and our canals begin to be encumbered with slimy weeds, instead of well freighted argosies and swift-sailing feluccas.”

“The Portuguese hath done us irretrievable harm, for without his African discoveries we might yet have retained the traffic in Indian commodities.  I cordially dislike the mongrel race, being, as it is, half Gothic and half Moorish!”

“I trust not myself to think of their origin or of their deeds, my friends, lest prejudice should kindle feelings unbecoming a man and a Christian.  How now, Signor Gradenigo; thou art thoughtful?”

The third member of the secret council, who had not spoken since the disappearance of the accused, and who was no other than the reader’s old acquaintance of the name just mentioned, slowly lifted his head from a meditative position at this address.

“The examination of the fisherman hath recalled scenes of my boyhood,” he answered, with a touch of nature that seldom found place in that chamber.

“I heard thee say he was thy foster-brother,” returned the other, struggling to conceal a gape.

“We drank of the same milk, and, for the first years of life, we spoiled at the same games.”

“These imaginary kindred often give great uneasiness.  I am glad your trouble hath no other source, for I had heard that the young heir of your house hath shown a prodigal disposition of late, and I feared that matter might have come to your knowledge, as one of the council, that a father might not wish to learn.”

The selfish features of the Signor Gradenigo instantly underwent a change.  He glanced curiously, and with a strong distrust, but in a covert manner, at the fallen eyes of his two companions, anxious to penetrate their secret thoughts ere he ventured to expose his own.

“Is there aught of complaint against the youth?” he demanded in a voice of hesitation.  “You understand a father’s interest, and will not conceal the truth.”

“Signore, you know that the agents of the police are active, and little that comes to their knowledge fails to reach the ears of the council.  But, at the worst, the matter is not of life or death.  It can only cost the inconsiderate young man a visit to Dalmatia, or an order to waste the summer at the foot of the Alps.”

“Youth is the season of indiscretion, as ye know, Signori,” returned the father, breathing more freely—­“and as none become old that have not been young, I have little need to awaken your recollection of its weaknesses.  I trust my son is incapable of designing aught against the Republic?”

“Of that he is not suspected.”  A slight expression of irony crossed the features of the old senator as he spoke.  “But he is represented as aiming too freely at the person and wealth of your ward; and that she who is the especial care of St. Mark is not to be solicited without the consent of the Senate, is an usage well known to one of its most ancient and most honorable members.”