“Eccellenza, yes.”

Don Camillo smiled; but the gleam of humor gave way to a look of grave and anxious thought.

“As thou knowest the person of him I have named, our affair is simple.  Take this packet,” he continued, placing a sealed letter of more than usual size into the hand of the gondolier, and drawing from his finger a signet ring, “with this token of thy authority.  Within that arch of the Doge’s palace which leads to the canal of San Marco, beneath the Bridge of Sighs, thou wilt find Jacopo.  Give him the packet; and, should he demand it, withhold not the ring.  Wait his bidding, and return with the answer.”

Gino received this commission with profound respect, but with an awe he could not conceal.  Habitual deference to his master appeared to struggle with deep distaste for the office he was required to perform; and there was even some manifestation of a more principled reluctance, in his hesitating yet humble manner.  If Don Camillo noted the air and countenance of his menial at all, he effectually concealed it.

“At the arched passage of the palace, beneath the Bridge of Sighs,” he coolly added; “and let thy arrival there be timed, as near as may be, to the first hour of the night.”

“I would, Signore, that you had been pleased to command Giorgio and me to row you to Padua!”

“The way is long.  Why this sudden wish to weary thyself?”

“Because there is no Doge’s palace, nor any Bridge of Sighs, nor any dog of Jacopo Frontoni among the meadows.”

“Thou hast little relish for this duty; but thou must know that what the master commands it is the duty of a faithful follower to perform.  Thou wert born my vassal, Gino Monaldi; and though trained from boyhood in this occupation of a gondolier, thou art properly a being of my fiefs in Napoli.”

“St. Gennaro make me grateful for the honor, Signore!  But there is not a water-seller in the streets of Venice, nor a mariner on her canals, who does not wish this Jacopo anywhere but in the bosom of Abraham.  He is the terror of every young lover, and of all the urgent creditors on the islands.”

“Thou seest, silly babbler, there is one of the former, at least, who does not hold him in dread.  Thou wilt seek him beneath the Bridge of Sighs, and, showing the signet, deliver the package according to my instructions.”

“It is certain loss of character to be seen speaking with the miscreant!  So lately as yesterday, I heard Annina, the pretty daughter of the old wine-seller on the Lido, declare, that to be seen once in company with Jacopo Frontoni was as bad as to be caught twice bringing old rope from the arsenal, as befell Roderigo, her mother’s cousin.”

“Thy distinctions savor of the morals of the Lido.  Remember to exhibit the ring, lest he distrust thy errand.”

“Could not your eccellenza set me about clipping the wings of the lion, or painting a better picture than Tiziano di Vecelli?  I have a mortal dislike even to pass the mere compliments of the day with one of your cut-throats.  Were any of our gondoliers to see me in discourse with the man, it might exceed your eccellenza’s influence to get me a place in the regatta.”