“I have said it, Jacopo,” he added at length, “and tongue of mine shall not belie the thought of my heart.  Take away thy food then, and forget all that is past; for what I have said hath not been said in scorn, but out of regard to my own soul.  Thou knowest how I have sorrowed for the boy, but next to his loss I could mourn over thee—­aye, more bitterly than over any other of the fallen!”

The hard breathing of the Bravo was audible, but still he spoke not.

“Jacopo,” continued the anxious fisherman, “do not mistake me.  The pity of the suffering and poor is not like the scorn of the rich and worldly.  If I touch a sore, I do not bruise it with my heel.  Thy present pain is better than the greatest of all thy former joys.”

“Enough, old man,” said the other in a smothered voice, “thy words are forgotten.  Eat without fear, for the offering is bought with earnings as pure as the gleanings of a mendicant friar.”

“I will trust to the kindness of St. Anthony and the fortune of my hook,” simply returned Antonio. “’Tis common for us of the Lagunes to go to a supperless bed:  take away the basket, good Jacopo, and let us speak of other things.”

The Bravo ceased to press his food upon the fisherman.  Laying aside his basket, he sat brooding over what had occurred.

“Hast thou come thus far for naught else, good Jacopo?” demanded the old man, willing to weaken the shock of his refusal.

The question appeared to restore Jacopo to a recollection of his errand.  He stood erect, and looked about him, for more than a minute, with a keen eye and an entire intentness of purpose.  The look in the direction of the city was longer and more earnest than those thrown towards the sea and the main, nor was it withdrawn, until an involuntary start betrayed equally surprise and alarm.

“Is there not a boat, here, in a line with the tower of the campanile?” he asked quickly, pointing towards the city.

“It so seems.  It is early for my comrades to be abroad, but the draughts have not been heavy of late, and the revelry of yesterday drew many of our people from their toil.  The patricians must eat, and the poor must labor, or both would die.”

The Bravo slowly seated himself, and he looked with concern into the countenance of his companion.

“Art thou long here, Antonio?”

“But an hour.  When they turned us away from the palace, thou knowest that I told thee of my necessities.  There is not, in common, a more certain spot on the Lagunes than this, and yet have I long played the line in vain.  The trial of hunger is hard, but, like all other trials, it must be borne.  I have prayed to my patron thrice, and sooner or later he will listen to my wants.  Thou art used to the manners of these masked nobles, Jacopo; dost thou think them likely to hearken to reason?  I hope I did the cause no wrong for want of breeding, but I spoke them fair and plainly as fathers and men with hearts.”