“Excellent, Stefano! fill thy sails, then, for our masters watch your movements, and set a value on your diligence.”

While the Calabrian complied, Jacopo assisted the females to come up out of the gondola.  In a moment the heavy yards swung off, wing and wing, and the bubbles that appeared to glance past the side of the Bella Sorrentina, denoted her speed.

“Thou hast noble ladies in thy passengers,” said Jacopo to the padrone, when the latter was released from the active duties of getting his vessel in motion; “and though policy requires that they should quit the city for a time, thou wilt gain favor by consulting their pleasures.”

“Doubt me not, Master Roderigo; but thou forgettest that I have not yet received my sailing instructions; a felucca without a course is as badly off as an owl in the sun.”

“That in good time; there will come an officer of the Republic to settle this matter with thee.  I would not have these noble ladies know, that one like Annina is to be their fellow-passenger, while they are near the port; for they might complain of disrespect.  Thou understandest, Stefano?”

“Cospetto! am I a fool? a blunderer? if so, why does the Senate employ me? the girl is out of hearing, and there let her stay.  As long as the noble dames are willing to breathe the night air, they shall have none of her company.”

“No fear of them.  The dwellers of the land little relish the pent air of thy cabin.  Thou wilt go without the Lido, Stefano, and await my coming.  If thou should’st not see me before the hour of one, bear away for the port of Ancona, where thou wilt get further tidings.”

Stefano, who had often previously received his instructions from the imaginary Roderigo, nodded assent, and they parted.  It is scarcely necessary to add, that the fugitives had been fully instructed in the conduct they were to maintain.

The gondola of Jacopo never flew faster, than he now urged it towards the land.  In the constant passage of the boats, the movements of one were not likely to be remarked; and he found, when he reached the quay of the square, that his passing and repassing had not been observed.  He boldly unmasked and landed.  It was near the hour when he had given Don Camillo a rendezvous in the piazza, and he walked slowly up the smaller square, towards the appointed place of meeting.

Jacopo, as has been seen in an earlier chapter, had a practice of walking near the columns of granite in the first hours of the night.  It was the vulgar impression that he waited there for custom in his bloody calling, as men of more innocent lives take their stands in places of mark.  When seen on his customary stand, he was avoided by all who were chary of their character, or scrupulous of appearances.

The persecuted and yet singularly tolerated Bravo, was slowly pacing the flags on his way to the appointed place, unwilling to anticipate the moment, when a laquais thrust a paper into his hand, and disappeared as fast as legs would carry him.  It has been seen that Jacopo could not read, for that was an age when men of his class were studiously kept in ignorance.  He turned to the first passenger who had the appearance of being likely to satisfy his wishes, and desired him to do the office of interpreter.