“Wilt thou never forget thy stall and the wayfarers of the Rialto?  I bid thee name him who beareth these symbols as marks of his family and rank.”

“Noble Signore, I obey.  The crest is of the family of Monforte, the last senator of which died some fifteen years since.”

“And his jewels?”

“They have passed with other movables of which the state taketh no account, into the keeping of his kinsman and successor—­if it be the senate’s pleasure that there shall be a successor to that ancient name—­Don Camillo of St. Agata.  The wealthy Neapolitan who now urges his rights here in Venice, is the present owner of this precious stone.”

“Give me the ring; this must be looked to—­hast thou more to say?”

“Nothing, Signore—­unless to petition, if there is to be any condemnation and sale of the jewel, that it may first be offered to an ancient servitor of the Republic, who hath much reason to regret that his age hath been less prosperous than his youth.”

“Thou shalt not be forgotten.  I hear it said, Hosea, that divers of our young nobles frequent thy Hebrew shops with intent to borrow gold, which, lavished in present prodigality, is to be bitterly repaid at a later day by self-denial, and such embarrassments as suit not the heirs of noble names.  Take heed of this matter—­for if the displeasure of the council should alight on any of thy race, there would be long and serious accounts to settle!  Hast thou had employment of late with other signets besides this of the Neapolitan?”

“Unless in the vulgar way of our daily occupation, none of note, illustrious Signore.”

“Regard this,” continued the Signor Gradenigo, first searching in a secret drawer, whence he drew a small bit of paper, to which a morsel of wax adhered; “canst thou form any conjecture, by the impression, concerning him who used that seal?”

The jeweller took the paper and held it towards the light, while his glittering eyes intently examined the conceit.

“This would surpass the wisdom of the son of David!” he said, after a long and seemingly fruitless examination; “here is naught but some fanciful device of gallantry, such as the light-hearted cavaliers of the city are fond of using, when they tempt the weaker sex with fair words and seductive vanities.”

“It is a heart pierced with the dart of love, and the motto of ’pensa al cuore trafitto d’amore?’”

“Naught else, as my eyes do their duty.  I should think there was but very little meant by those words, Signore!”

“That as may be.  Thou hast never sold a jewel with that conceit?”

“Just Samuel!  We dispose of them daily to Christians of both sexes and all ages.  I know no device of greater frequency, whereby I conceive there is much commerce in this light fidelity.”

“He who used it did well in concealing his thoughts beneath so general a dress!  There will be a reward of a hundred sequins to him who traces the owner.”