“Thy picture is so well drawn that one cannot fail to know the original.  He stands beside thee.”

Gino wheeled suddenly, and saw that a grinning harlequin was playing his antics in the place where he had expected to find the stranger.

“And thy eyes, bella contadina, are as dull as a mole’s.”

He ceased speaking; for, deceived in his person, she who had saluted him was no longer visible.  In this manner did the disappointed gondolier thread his way towards the water, now answering to the boisterous salute of some clown, and now repelling the advances of females less disguised than the pretended contadina, until he gained a space near the quays, where there was more room for observation.  Here he paused, undetermined whether to return and confess his indiscretion to his master, or whether he should make still another effort to regain the ring which had been so sillily lost.  The vacant space between the two granite columns was left to the quiet possession of himself and one other, who stood near the base of that which sustained the lion of St. Mark, as motionless as if he too were merely a form of stone.  Two or three stragglers, either led by idle curiosity or expecting to meet one appointed to await their coming, drew near this immovable man, but all glided away, as if there were repulsion in his marble-like countenance.  Gino had witnessed several instances of this evident dislike to remain near the unknown figure, ere he felt induced to cross the space between them, in order to inquire into its cause.  A slow movement at the sound of his footsteps, brought the rays of the moon full upon the calm countenance and searching eye of the very man he sought.

The first impulse of the gondolier, like that of all the others he had seen approach the spot, was to retreat; but the recollection of his errand and his loss came in season to prevent such an exhibition of his disgust and alarm.  Still he did not speak; but he met the riveted gaze of the Bravo with a look that denoted, equally, confusion of intellect and a half-settled purpose.

“Would’st thou aught with me?” demanded Jacopo, when the gaze of each had continued beyond the term of accidental glances.

“My master’s signet.”

“I know thee not.”

“That image of San Teodoro could testify that this is holy truth, if it would but speak!  I have not the honor of your friendship, Signor Jacopo; but one may have affairs even with a stranger.  If you met a peaceable and innocent gondolier in the court of the palace since the clock of the piazza told the last quarter, and got from him a ring, which can be of but little use to any but its rightful owner, one so generous will not hesitate to return it.”

“Dost thou take me for a jeweller of the Rialto that thou speakest to me of rings?”

“I take you for one well known and much valued by many of name and quality, here in Venice, as witness my errand from my own master.”