y time is not yet
come, while others think thou art too powerful for judgment."

"Thou dost equal credit to the justice and the activity of the
inquisition. But should I go with thee to-night, wilt thou be more
discreet in speech among thy fellows of the Lido, and the islands?"

"When the heart hath its load, the tongue will strive to lighten it. I
would do anything to turn the child of my friend from his evil ways, but
forget my own. Thou art used to deal with the patricians, Jacopo; would
there be possibility for one, clad in this dress, and with a face
blackened by the sun, to come to speak with the Doge?"

"There is no lack of seeming justice in Venice, Antonio; the want is in
the substance. I doubt not thou would'st be heard."

"Then will I wait, here, upon the stones of the square, until he comes
forth for the pomp of to-morrow, and try to move his heart to justice.
He is old, like myself, and he hath bled, too, for the state, and what
is more he is a father."

"So is the Signor Gradenigo."

"Thou doubtest his pity--ha?"

"Thou canst but try. The Doge of Venice will hearken to a petition from
the meanest citizen. I think," added Jacopo, speaking so low as to be
scarcely audible, "he would listen even to me."

"Though I am not able to put my prayer in such speech as becometh the
ear of a great prince, he shall hear the truth from a wronged man. They
call him the chosen of the state, and such a one should gladly listen to
justice. This is a hard bed, Jacopo," continued the fisherman, seating
himself at the foot of the column of St. Theodore, "but I have slept on
colder and as hard, when there was less reason to do it--a happy night."

The bravo lingered a minute near the old man, who folded his arms on his
naked breast, which was fanned by the sea-breeze, and disposed of his
person to take his rest in the square, a practice not unusual among men
of his class; but when he found that Antonio was inclined to be alone,
he moved on, leaving the fisherman to himself.

The night was now getting to be advanced, and few of the revellers
remained in the areas of the two squares. Jacopo cast a glance around,
and noting the hour and the situation of the place, he proceeded to the
edge of the quay. The public gondoliers had left their boats moored, as
usual, at this spot, and a profound stillness reigned over the whole
bay. The water was scarce darkened by the air, which rather breathed
upon than ruffled its surface,