and build up a new government.  Whatever they might prove to be in danger and revolution, however, he had saved his life by casting his lot with theirs, and he was profoundly grateful to them for having accepted him as one of themselves.  But for their generosity, his weighted body would have been already lying at the bottom of the canal, and he was not just now inclined to criticise the mental gifts of those would-be conspirators who had so unexpectedly forgiven him for discovering their secret meeting.

“Sirs,” he said, when he had grasped the hand of each, “I hope that in return for my life, for which I thank you, I may be of some service to the cause of liberty, and to each of you in singular, though I have but little hope of this, seeing that I am but an artist and you are all patricians.  I pray you, inform me by what sign I may know you if we chance to meet outside this house, and how I may make myself known.”

“We have little need of signs,” answered Contarini, “for we meet often, and we know each other well.  But our password is ’the Angel’—­meaning the Angel that freed Saint Peter from his bonds, as we hope to free Venice from hers, and the token we give is the grip of the hand we have each given you.”

Being thus instructed, Zorzi held his peace, for he felt that he was in the presence of men far above him in station, in whose conversation it would not be easy for him to join, and of whose daily lives he knew nothing, except that most of them lived in palaces and many were the sons of Councillors of the Ten, and of Senators, and Procurators and of others high in office, whereat he wondered much.  But presently, as the excitement of what had happened wore off, and they sat about the table, they began to speak of the news of the day, and especially of the unjust and cruel acts of the Ten, each contributing some detail learned in his own home or among intimate friends.  Zorzi sat silent in his place, listening, and he soon understood that as yet they had no definite plan for bringing on a revolution, and that they knew nothing of the populace upon whose support they reckoned, and of whom Zorzi knew much by experience.  Yet, though they told each other things which seemed foolish to him, he said nothing on that first night, and all the time he watched Contarini very closely, and listened with especial attention to what he said, trying to discern his character and judge his understanding.

The splendid young Venetian was not displeased by Zorzi’s attitude towards him, and presently came and sat beside him.

“I should have explained to you,” he said, “that as it would be impossible for us to meet here without the knowledge of my servants, we come together on pretence of playing games of chance.  My father lives in our palace near Saint Mark’s, and I live here alone.”

At this Foscari, the tall man with the black beard, looked at Contarini and laughed a little.  Contarini glanced at him and smiled with some constraint.