The monk shuddered, but making the sign of the cross, he bowed his pale face, in signification of his readiness to discharge the duty.  At that moment the bearers lifted the body, and the procession issued upon the great square.  First marched the usual lay underlings of the cathedral, who were followed by those who chanted the offices of the occasion.  Among the latter the Carmelite hastened to take his station.  Next came the corpse, without a coffin, for that is a luxury of the grave even now unknown to the Italians of old Antonio’s degree.  The body was clad in the holiday vestments of a fisherman, the hands and feet being naked.  A cross lay on the breast; the grey hairs were blowing about in the air, and, in frightful adornment of the ghastliness of death, a bouquet of flowers was placed upon the mouth.  The bier was rich in gilding and carving, another melancholy evidence of the lingering wishes and false direction of human vanity.

Next to this characteristic equipage of the dead walked a lad, whose brown cheek, half-naked body, and dark, roving eye, announced the grandson of the fisherman.  Venice knew when to yield gracefully, and the boy was liberated unconditionally from the galleys, in pity, as it was whispered, for the untimely fate of his parent.  There was the aspiring look, the dauntless spirit, and the rigid honesty of Antonio, in the bearing of the lad; but these qualities were now smothered by a natural grief; and, as in the case of him whose funeral escort he followed, something obscured by the rude chances of his lot.  From time to time the bosom of the generous boy heaved, as they marched along the quay, taking the route of the arsenal; and there were moments in which his lips quivered, grief threatening to overcome his manhood.

Still not a tear wetted his cheek, until the body disappeared from his view.  Then nature triumphed, and straying from out the circle, he took a seat apart and wept, as one of his years and simplicity would be apt to weep, at finding himself a solitary wanderer in the wilderness of the world.

Thus terminated the incident of Antonio Vecchio, the fisherman, whose name soon ceased to be mentioned in that city of mysteries, except on the Lagunes, where the men of his craft long vaunted his merit with the net, and the manner in which he bore away the prize from the best oars of Venice.  His descendant lived and toiled, like others of his condition, and we will here dismiss him, by saying, that he so far inherited the native qualities of his ancestor, that he forbore to appear, a few hours later, in the crowd, which curiosity and vengeance drew into the Piazzetta.

Father Anselmo took boat to return to the canals, and when he landed at the quay of the smaller square it was with the hope that he would now be permitted to seek those of whose fate he was still ignorant, but in whom he felt so deep an interest.  Not so, however.  The individual who had addressed him in the cathedral was, apparently, in waiting, and knowing the uselessness as well as the danger of remonstrance, where the state was concerned, the Carmelite permitted himself to be conducted whither his guide pleased.  They took a devious route, but it led them to the public prisons.  Here the priest was shown into the keeper’s apartment, where he was desired to wait a summons from his companion.