The Bravo | Page 5

of late. This head of
mine has not been on a pillow before the sun has come above the Lido,
since the snows melted from Monselice."
"And when the sun of thy master's countenance sets in his own palazzo,
thou hastenest off to the bridge of the Rialto, among the jewellers and
butchers, to proclaim the manner in which he passed the night?"
"Diamine! 'Twould be the last night I served the Duca di Sant' Agata,
were my tongue so limber! The gondolier and the confessor are the two
privy-councillors of a noble, Master Stefano, with this small
difference--that the last only knows what the sinner wishes to reveal,
while the first sometimes knows more. I can find a safer, if not a more
honest employment, than to be running about with my master's secrets
in the air."
"And I am wiser than to let every Jew broker in San Marco, here, have
a peep into my charter-party."
"Nay, old acquaintance, there is some difference between our
occupations, after all. A padrone of a felucca cannot, in justice, be
compared to the most confidential gondolier of a Neapolitan duke, who
has an unsettled right to be admitted to the Council of Three Hundred."
"Just the difference between smooth water and rough--you ruffle the
surface of a canal with a lazy oar, while I run the channel of Piombino
in a mistral, shoot the Faro of Messina in a white squall, double Santa
Maria di Leuca in a breathing Levanter, and come skimming up the
Adriatic before a sirocco that is hot enough to cook my maccaroni, and
which sets the whole sea boiling worse than the caldrons of Scylla."
"Hist!" eagerly interrupted the gondolier, who had indulged, with
Italian humor, in the controversy for preeminence, though without any
real feeling, "here comes one who may think, else, we shall have need
of his hand to settle the dispute--Eccolo!"

The Calabrian recoiled apace, in silence, and stood regarding the
individual who had caused this hurried remark, with a gloomy but
steady air. The stranger moved slowly past. His years were under thirty,
though the calm gravity of his countenance imparted to it a character of
more mature age. The cheeks were bloodless, but they betrayed rather
the pallid hue of mental than of bodily disease. The perfect condition of
the physical man was sufficiently exhibited in the muscular fulness of a
body which, though light and active, gave every indication of strength.
His step was firm, assured, and even; his carriage erect and easy, and
his whole mien was strongly characterized by a self-possession that
could scarcely escape observation; and yet his attire was that of an
inferior class. A doublet of common velvet, a dark Montero cap, such
as was then much used in the southern countries of Europe, with other
vestments of a similar fashion, composed his dress. The face was
melancholy rather than sombre, and its perfect repose accorded well
with the striking calmness of the body. The lineaments of the former,
however, were bold and even noble, exhibiting that strong and manly
outline which is so characteristic of the finer class of the Italian
countenance. Out of this striking array of features gleamed an eye that
was full of brilliancy, meaning, and passion.
As the stranger passed, his glittering organs rolled over the persons of
the gondolier and his companion, but the look, though searching, was
entirely without interest. 'Twas the wandering but wary glance, which
men who have much reason to distrust, habitually cast on a multitude.
It turned with the same jealous keenness on the face of the next it
encountered, and by the time the steady and well balanced form was
lost in the crowd, that quick and glowing eye had gleamed, in the same
rapid and uneasy manner, on twenty others.
Neither the gondolier nor the mariner of Calabria spoke until their
riveted gaze after the retiring figure became useless. Then the former
simply ejaculated, with a strong respiration--
"Jacopo!"
His companion raised three of his fingers, with an occult meaning,
towards the palace of the doges.

"Do they let him take the air, even in San Marco?" he asked, in
unfeigned surprise.
"It is not easy, caro amico, to make water run up stream, or to stop the
downward current. It is said that most of the senators would sooner lose
their hopes of the horned bonnet, than lose him. Jacopo! He knows
more family secrets than the good Priore of San Marco himself, and he,
poor man, is half his time in the confessional."
"Aye, they are afraid to put him in an iron jacket, lest awkward secrets
should be squeezed out."
"Corpo di Bacco! there would be little peace in Venice, if the Council
of Three should take it into their heads