hat hung over it as the
scent of flowers over a garden at evening, and temptation would assail
them in one of at least twenty delightful shapes; and then and there the
little sum that stood between them and starvation would melt away in a
night, leaving them in a very bad way indeed.

Yet now they lingered just a few moments by the wooden bridge, dreaming
of riotous nights and glorious suppers, before going home to bread and
cheese and cold water. And just then fate sent to them the young
Dominican monk they had left prostrate before the altar in the church
when they came out; at all events it seemed natural to suppose that it
was he, though they had hardly caught sight of his youthful face before
and now could not see it all, for he had pulled his white hood well down
over his eyes.

He was evidently about to cross the bridge, when he unexpectedly found
Trombin in front of him, stopping the way. The street and the canal were
deserted, and not a sound broke the stillness. The monk stood still. He
was short and slight, and could have slipped through a very narrow
space, but Trombin seemed to swell himself out till he filled the bridge
from side to side, and kept his hand on the hilt of his rapier.

Gambardella looked on indifferently, supposing that his companion meant
to indulge in some witticism or practical joke at the expense of the
young monk.

'Your reverence must pay toll at this bridge,' said Trombin.

'Toll?' cried a youthful voice from under the cowl.

'The decree has just been passed by the Ten,' answered Trombin. 'My
friend and I are stationed here by the Signors of the Night to exact
payment.'

Gambardella did not clearly understand, but he moved up behind the monk,
so that the latter could not get back.

'I understand,' said the Dominican in his sweet voice, after a moment's
hesitation. 'But I have no money. I am only a poor monk----'

'The Fathers of the Order of Preachers do not take vows of poverty, your
reverence,' said Gambardella in deep tones, behind the youth.

'That is true, but I have no money with me,' protested the latter.

'That emerald ring you wear on your left hand will do quite as well,'
answered Trombin. 'We shall not ask you for anything else this evening.'

Now the monk's hands were thrust deep into the two slits in the front of
his frock, as in a muff; but Trombin's eyes were good, and they had
caught sight of the jewel unwarily exposed while the young man was
performing h