“Gelsomina!” he cried, recoiling from the sight, “this is the Bridge of Sighs!”

“It is, Carlo; hast thou ever crossed it before?”

“Never:  nor do I understand why I cross it now.  I have long thought that it might one day be my fortune to walk this fatal passage, but I could not dream of such a keeper!”

The eye of Gelsomina brightened, and her smile was cheerful.

“Thou wilt never cross it to thy harm with me.”

“Of that I am certain, kind Gessina,” he answered, taking her hand.  “But this is a riddle that I cannot explain.  Art thou in the habit of entering the palace by this gallery?”

“It is little used, except by the keepers and the condemned, as doubtless thou hast often heard; but yet they have given me the keys, and taught me the windings of the place, in order that I might serve, as usual, for thy guide.”

“Gelsomina, I fear I have been too happy in thy company to note, as prudence would have told me, the rare kindness of the council in permitting me to enjoy it!”

“Dost thou repent, Carlo, that thou hast known me?”

The reproachful melancholy of her voice touched the Bravo, who kissed the hand he held with Italian fervor.

“I should then repent me of the only hours of happiness I have known for years,” he said.  “Thou hast been to me, Gelsomina, like a flower in a desert—­a pure spring to a feverish man—­a gleam of hope to one suffering under malediction.  No, no, not for a moment have I repented knowing thee, my Gelsomina!”

“’Twould not have made my life more happy, Carlo, to have thought I had added to thy sorrows.  I am young, and ignorant of the world, but I know we should cause joy, and not pain, to those we esteem.”

“Thy nature would teach thee this gentle lesson.  But is it not strange that one like me should be suffered to visit the prison unattended by any other keeper?”

“I had not thought it so, Carlo; but surely, it is not common!”

“We have found so much pleasure in each other, dear Gessina, that we have overlooked what ought to have caused alarm.”

“Alarm, Carlo!”

“Or, at least, distrust; for these wily senators do no act of mercy without a motive.  But it is now too late to recall the past if we would; and in that which relates to thee I would not lose the memory of a moment.  Let us proceed.”

The slight cloud vanished from the face of the mild auditor of the Bravo; but still she did not move.

“Few pass this bridge, they say,” she added tremulously, “and enter the world again; and yet thou dost not even ask why we are here, Carlo!”

There was a transient gleam of distrust in the hasty glance of the Bravo, as he shot a look at the undisturbed eye of the innocent being who put this question.  But it scarcely remained long enough to change the expression of manly interest she was accustomed to meet in his look.