The Bravo appeared struck with this truth, and there was great embarrassment expressed in his manner.  The terms of his admittance were so well understood to himself, that he distrusted the expediency of attempting to get upon the quays by the prison, the way he had entered, since he had little doubt that his retreat would be intercepted by those who kept the outer gate, and who were probably, by this time, in the secret of his true character.  It now appeared that egress by the other route was equally hazardous.  He had not been surprised so much by the substance of the proclamation, as by the publicity the Senate had seen fit to give to its policy, and he had heard himself denounced, with a severe pang, it is true, but without terror.  Still he had so many means of disguise, and the practice of personal concealment was so general in Venice, that he had entertained no great distrust of the result until he now found himself in this awkward dilemma.  Gelsomina read his indecision in his eye, and regretted that she should have caused him so much uneasiness.

“It is not so bad as thou seemest to think, Carlo,” she observed; “they have permitted thee to visit thy father at stated hours, and the permission is a proof that the Senate is not without pity.  Now that I, to oblige thy wishes, have forgotten one of their injunctions, they will not be so hard of heart as to visit the fault as a crime.”

Jacopo gazed at her with pity, for well did he understand how little she knew of the real nature and wily policy of the state.

“It is time that we should part,” he said, “lest thy innocence should be made to pay the price of my mistake.  I am now near the public corridor, and must trust to my fortune to gain the quay.”

Gelsomina hung upon his arm, unwilling to trust him to his own guidance in that fearful building.

“It will not do, Carlo; thou wilt stumble on a soldier, and thy fault will be known; perhaps they will refuse to let thee come again; perhaps altogether shut the door of thy poor father’s cell.”

Jacopo made a gesture for her to lead the way, and followed.  With a beating, but still lightened heart, Gelsomina glided along the passages, carefully locking each door, as of wont, behind her, when she had passed through it.  At length they reached the well known Bridge of Sighs.  The anxious girl went on with a lighter step, when she found herself approaching her own abode, for she was busy in planning the means of concealing her companion in her father’s rooms, should there be hazard in his passing out of the prison during the day.

“But a single minute, Carlo,” she whispered, applying the key to the door which opened into the latter building—­the lock yielded, but the hinges refused to turn.  Gelsomina paled as she added—­“They have drawn the bolts within!”

“No matter; I will go down by the court of the palace, and boldly pass the halberdier unmasked.”