Encouraged by this success, the fishermen seized the boat as a waif, and towed it into their own fleet, filling the air with cries of triumph.  Curiosity led a few to enter the hearse-like canopy, whence they immediately reissued dragging forth a priest.

“Who art thou?” hoarsely demanded he who took upon himself the authority of a leader.

“A Carmelite, and a servant of God!”

“Dost thou serve St. Mark?  Hast thou been to the Canale Orfano to shrive a wretch?”

“I am here in attendance on a young and noble lady, who has need of my counsel and prayers.  The happy and the miserable, the free and the captive, are equally my care!”

“Ha!  Thou art not above thy office?  Thou wilt say the prayers for the dead in behalf of a poor man’s soul?”

“My son, I know no difference, in this respect, between the Doge and the poorest fisherman.  Still I would not willingly desert the females.”

“The ladies shall receive no harm.  Come into my boat, for there is need of thy holy office.”

Father Anselmo—­the reader will readily anticipate that it was he—­entered the canopy, said a few words in explanation to his trembling companions, and complied.  He was rowed to the leading gondola, and, by a sign, directed to the dead body.

“Thou see’st that corpse, father?” continued his conductor.  “It is the face of one who was an upright and pious Christian!”

“He was.”

“We all knew him as the oldest and the most skilful fisherman of the Lagunes, and one ever ready to assist an unlucky companion.”

“I can believe thee!”

“Thou mayest, for the holy books are not more true than my words:  yesterday he came down this very canal in triumph, for he bore away the honors of the regatta from the stoutest oars in Venice.”

“I have heard of his success.”

“They say that Jacopo, the Bravo—­he who once held the best oar in the canals—­was of the party!  Santa Madonna! such a man was too precious to die!”

“It is the fate of all—­rich and poor, strong and feeble, happy and miserable, must alike come to this end.”

“Not to this end, reverend Carmelite, for Antonio having given offence to the Republic, in the matter of a grandson that is pressed for the galleys, has been sent to purgatory without a Christian hope for his soul.”

“There is an eye that watcheth on the meanest of us, son; we will believe he was not forgotten.”

“Cospetto!  They say that those the Senate look black upon get but little aid from the church!  Wilt thou pray for him, Carmelite, and make good thy words?”

“I will,” said Father Anselmo, firmly.  “Make room, son, that no decency of my duty be overlooked.”

The swarthy, expressive faces of the fishermen gleamed with satisfaction, for, in the midst of the rude turmoil, they all retained a deep and rooted respect for the offices of the church in which they had been educated.  Silence was quickly obtained, and the boats moved on with greater order than before.