“This might arrive, father, were we to continue within the grasp of St. Mark,” interrupted the Neapolitan; “but once beyond his borders, ’twould be a bold interference with the right of a foreign state to lay hands on our persons.  More than this, I have a castle in St. Agata, that will defy their most secret means, until events might happen which should render it more prudent for them to desist than to persevere.”

“This reason hath force wert thou within the walls of St. Agata, instead of being, as thou art, among the canals.”

“Here is one of Calabria, a vassal born of mine, a certain Stefano Milano, the padrone of a Sorrentine felucca, now lying in the port.  The man is in strict amity with my own gondolier, he who was third in this day’s race.  Art thou ill, father, that thou appearest troubled?”

“Proceed with thy expedient,” answered the monk, motioning that he wished not to be observed.

“My faithful Gino reports that this Stefano is on the canals, on some errand of the Republic, as he thinks; for though the mariner is less disposed to familiarity than is wont, he hath let drop hints that lead to such a conclusion; the felucca is ready from hour to hour to put to sea, and doubt not that the padrone would rather serve his natural lord than these double-dealing miscreants of the Senate.  I can pay as well as they, if served to my pleasure, and I can punish too, when offended.”

“There is reason in this, Signore, wert thou beyond the wiles of this mysterious city.  But in what manner thou embark, without drawing the notice of those who doubtless watch our movements, on thy person?”

“There are maskers on the canals at all hours, and if Venice be so impertinent in her system of watchfulness, thou knowest, father, that, without extraordinary motive, that disguise is sacred.  Without this narrow privilege, the town would not be habitable a day.”

“I fear the result,” observed the hesitating monk, while it was evident from the thoughtfulness of his countenance, that he calculated the chances of the adventure.  “If known and arrested, we are all lost!”

“Trust me, father, that thy fortune shall not be forgotten, even in that unhappy issue.  I have an uncle, as you know, high in the favor of the pontiff, and who wears the scarlet hat.  I pledge to you the honor of a cavalier, all my interest with this relative, to gain such intercession from the church as shall weaken the blow to her servant.”

The features of the Carmelite flushed, and for the first time the ardent young noble observed around his ascetic mouth an expression of worldly pride.

“Thou hast unjustly rated my apprehensions, Lord of St. Agata,” he said; “I fear not for myself, but for others.  This tender and lovely child hath not been confided to my care, without creating a parental solicitude in her behalf, and”—­he paused, and seemed to struggle with himself—­“I have too long known the mild and womanly virtues of Donna Florinda, to witness with indifference her exposure to a near and fearful danger.  Abandon our charge we cannot; nor do I see in what manner, as prudent and watchful guardians, we may in any manner consent to this risk.  Let us hope that they who govern, will yet consult the honor and happiness of Donna Violetta.”