The Ave Maria had not ceased ringing when Giovanni’s gondolier came up with the Governor of Murano.  He was alone, and at his invitation Giovanni left his own craft and sat down beside the patrician, whose gondola was uncovered for coolness.  Giovanni talked earnestly in low tones, holding his sealed letter in his hand, while his own oarsman watched him closely in the advancing dusk, but was too wise to try to overhear what was said.  He knew well enough now what Giovanni wanted of the Governor, and what he obtained.

“Not to-night,” the Governor said audibly, as Giovanni returned to his own gondola.  “To-morrow.”

Giovanni turned before getting under the ‘felse,’ bowed low as he stood up and said a few words of thanks, which the Governor could hardly have heard as his boat shot ahead, though he made one more gracious gesture with his hand.  The shadows descended quickly now, and everywhere the little lights came out, from latticed balconies and palace windows left open to let in the cool air, and from the silently gliding gondolas that each carried a small lamp; and here and there between tall houses the young summer moon fell across the black water, rippling under the freshening breeze, and it was like a shower of silver falling into a widow’s lap.

But Giovanni saw none of these things, and if he had looked out of the small windows of the ‘felse,’ he would not have cared to see them, for beauty did not appeal to him in nature any more than in art, except that in the latter it was a cause of value in things.  Besides, as he suffered from the heat all day, he was afraid of being chilled at evening; so he sat inside the ‘felse,’ gloating over the success of his trip.  The Governor, who knew nothing of Zorzi but was well aware of Giovanni’s importance in Murano, had readily consented to arrest the poor Dalmatian who was represented as such a dangerous person, besides being a liar and other things, and Giovanni had particularly requested that the force sent should be sufficient to overpower the “raging devil” at once and without scandal.  He judged that ten men would suffice for this, he said.  The fact was that he feared some resistance on the part of Pasquale, whom he knew to be a friend to Zorzi.  He had carefully abstained from alluding to Zorzi’s lameness, lest the mere mention of it should excite some compassion in his hearer.  He had in fact done everything to assure the success of his scheme, except the one thing which was the most necessary of all.  He had allowed himself to speak of it in the hearing of the gondolier who hated him, and who lost no time in making use of the information.

It was nearly supper-time when he deposited Giovanni at the steps of the house and took the gondola round to the narrow canal in which the boats lay, and which was under Nella’s window.  The shutters were wide open, and there was a light within.  He called the serving-woman by name, and she looked out, and asked what he wanted.  Then, as now, gondoliers worked indoors like the servants when not busy with the boats, and slept in the house.  The man was on friendly terms with Nella, who liked him because he thought her mistress the most perfect creature in the world.