“As I have yet to learn his errand, before I go further, Signore, it may be well to know more of his wishes.”

“This reserve is uncalled for.  Thou art not to distrust the prudence of the Republic’s ministers, and I should be sorry were the Inquisitors to get an unfavorable opinion of thy zeal.  The individual must be denounced.”

“I denounce him not.  The most that I can say is, that he hath a desire to deal privately with one, with whom it is almost criminal to deal at all.”

“The prevention of crime is better than its punishment, and such is the true object of all government.  Thou wilt not withhold the name of thy correspondent?”

“It is a noble Neapolitan, who hath long sojourned in Venice, on matters touching a great succession, and some right even to the senate’s dignity.”

“Ha!  Don Camillo Monforte!  Am I right, sirrah?”

“Signore, the same!”

The pause which followed was only broken by the clock of the great square striking eleven, or the fourth hour of the night, as it is termed, by the usage of Italy.  The senator started, consulted a time-piece in his own apartment, and again addressed his companion.

“This is well,” he said; “thy faith and punctuality shall be remembered.  Look to the fisherman Antonio; the murmurs of the old man must not be permitted to awaken discontent, for a cause so trifling as this transfer of his descendant from a gondola to a galley; and most of all, keep thy ears attentive to any rumors on the Rialto.  The glory and credit of a patrician name must not be weakened by the errors of boyhood.  As to this stranger—­quickly, thy mask and cloak—­depart as if thou wert merely a friend bent on some of the idle pleasantries of the hour.”

The Bravo resumed his disguise with the readiness of one long practised in its use, but with a composure that was not so easily disconcerted as that of the more sensitive senator.  The latter did not speak again, though he hurried Jacopo from his presence by an impatient movement of the hand.

When the door was closed and the Signor Gradenigo was again alone, he once more consulted the time-piece, passed his hand slowly and thoughtfully across his brow, and resumed his walk.  For nearly an hour this exercise, or nervous sympathy of the body with a mind that was possibly overworked, continued without any interruption from without.  Then came a gentle tap at the door, and, at the usual bidding, one entered, closely masked like him who had departed, as was so much the usage of that city in the age of which we write.  A glance at the figure of his guest seemed to apprise the senator of his character, for the reception, while it was distinguished by the quaint courtesy of the age, was that of one expected.

“I am honored in the visit of Don Camillo Monforte,” said the host, while the individual named laid aside his cloak and silken visor; “though the lateness of the hour had given me reason to apprehend that some casualty had interfered between me and the pleasure.”