When the song was ended, the oar of the gondolier stirred the water again, and he was quickly by the other’s side.

“Thou art busy with thy hook betimes, Antonio,” said he who had just arrived, as he stepped into the boat of the old fisherman already so well known to the reader.  “There are men, that an interview with the Council of Three would have sent to their prayers and a sleepless bed.”

“There is not a chapel in Venice, Jacopo, in which a sinner may so well lay bare his soul as in this.  I have been here on the empty Lagunes, alone with God, having the gates of Paradise open before my eyes.”

“One like thee hath no need of images to quicken his devotion.”

“I see the image of my Saviour, Jacopo, in those bright stars, that moon, the blue heavens, the misty bank of mountain, the waters on which we float, aye, even in my own sinking form, as in all which has come from his wisdom and power.  I have prayed much since the moon has risen.”

“And is habit so strong in thee that thou thinkest of God and thy sins while thou anglest?”

“The poor must toil and the sinful must pray.  My thoughts have dwelt so much of late on the boy, that I have forgotten to provide myself with food.  If I fish later or earlier than common, ’tis because a man cannot live on grief.”

“I have bethought me of thy situation, honest Antonio; here is that which will support life and raise thy courage.

“See,” added the Bravo, stretching forth an arm Into his own gondola, from which he drew a basket, “here is bread from Dalmatia, wine of Lower Italy, and figs from the Levant—­eat, then, and be of cheer.”

The fisherman threw a wistful glance at the viands, for hunger was making powerful appeals to the weakness of nature, but his hand did not relinquish its hold of the line, with which he still continued to angle.

“And these are thy gifts, Jacopo?” he asked, in a voice that, spite of his resignation, betrayed the longings of appetite.

“Antonio, they are the offerings of one who respects thy courage and honors thy nature.”

“Bought with his earnings?”

“Can it be otherwise?  I am no beggar for the love of the saints, and few in Venice give unasked.  Eat, then, without fear; seldom wilt thou be more welcome.”

“Take them away, Jacopo, if thou lovest me.  Do not tempt me beyond what I can bear.”

“How! art thou commanded to a penance?” hastily exclaimed the other.

“Not so—­not so.  It is long since I have found leisure or heart for the confessional.”

“Then why refuse the gift of a friend?  Remember thy years and necessities.”

“I cannot feed on the price of blood!”

The hand of the Bravo was withdrawn as if repelled by an electric touch.  The action caused the rays of the moon to fall athwart his kindling eye, and firm as Antonio was in honesty and principle, he felt the blood creep to his heart as he encountered the fierce and sudden glance of his companion.  A long pause succeeded, during which the fisherman diligently plied his line, though utterly regardless of the object for which it had been cast.