Ambition began to mingle with
his dreams of pleasure and pomp. What post in the Court or the State too
high for the aspirations of one who had evinced the most incontestable
talent for active life,--the talent to succeed in all that the will had
undertaken? Thus mused the count, half-forgetful of the present, and
absorbed in the golden future, till he was aroused by a loud hail from
the vessel and the bustle on board the boat, as the sailors caught at
the rope flung forth to them.

He then rose and moved towards Violante. But the man who was still in
charge of her passed the count lightly, half-leading, half-carrying his
passive prisoner. "Pardon, Excellency," said the man, in Italian, "but
the boat is crowded, and rocks so much that your aid would but disturb
our footing." Before Peschiera could reply, Violante was already on the
steps of the vessel, and the count paused till, with elated smile,
he saw her safely standing on the deck. Beatrice followed, and then
Peschiera himself; but when the Italians in his train also thronged
towards the sides of the boat, two of the sailors got before them, and
let go the rope, while the other two plied their oars vigorously,
and pulled back towards shore. The Italians burst into an amazed and
indignant volley of execrations. "Silence," said the sailor who had
stood by the plank, "we obey orders. If you are not quiet, we shall
upset the boat. We can swim; Heaven and Monsignore San Giacomo pity you
if you cannot!"

Meanwhile, as Peschiera leaped upon deck, a flood of light poured upon
him from lifted torches. That light streamed full on the face and form
of a man of commanding stature, whose arm was around Violante, and whose
dark eyes flashed upon the count more luminously than the torches. On
one side this man stood the Austrian prince; on the other side (a cloak,
and a profusion of false dark locks, at his feet) stood Lord L'Estrange,
his arms folded, and his lips curved by a smile in which the ironical
humour native to the man was tempered with a calm and supreme disdain.
The count strove to speak, but his voice faltered.

All around him looked ominous and hostile. He saw many Italian faces,
but they scowled at him with vindictive hate; in the rear were English
mariners, peering curiously over the shoulders of the foreigners, and
with a broad grin on their open countenances. Suddenly, as the count
thus stood perplexed, cowering, stupefied, there burst from all
the Italians p