e the long-pent torrents of their arrogance on the
head of the first unresisting subject which offered.

Antonio bore all these jibes manfully, if not in tranquillity, and
always without retort, until he again approached the spot occupied by
his companions of the Lagunes. Here his eye sank under the reproaches,
and his oar faltered. The taunts and denunciations increased as he lost
ground, and there was a moment when the rebuked and humbled spirit of
the old man seemed about to relinquish the contest. But dashing a hand
across his brow, as if to clear a sight which had become dimmed and
confused, he continued to ply the oar, and, happily, he was soon past
the point most trying to his resolution. From this moment the cries
against the fisherman diminished, and as the Bucentaur, though still
distant, was now in sight, interest in the issue of the race absorbed
all other feelings.

Enrico still kept the lead; but the judges of the gondolier's skill
began to detect signs of exhaustion in his faltering stroke. The
waterman of the Lido pressed him hard, and the Calabrian was drawing
more into a line with them both. At this moment, too, the masked
competitor exhibited a force and skill that none had expected to see in
one of his supposed rank. His body was thrown more upon the effort of
the oar, and as his leg was stretched behind to aid the stroke, it
discovered a volume of muscle, and an excellence of proportion, that
excited murmurs of applause. The consequence was soon apparent. His
gondola glided past the crowd in the centre of the canal, and by a
change that was nearly insensible, he became the fourth in the race. The
shouts which rewarded his success had scarcely parted from the
multitude, ere their admiration was called to a new and an entirely
unexpected aspect in the struggle.

Left to his own exertions, and less annoyed by that derision and
contempt which often defeat even more generous efforts, Antonio had
drawn nearer to the crowd of nameless competitors. Though
undistinguished in this narrative, there were seen, in that group of
gondoliers, faces well known on the canals of Venice, as belonging to
watermen in whose dexterity and force the city took pride. Either
favored by his isolated position, or availing himself of the
embarrassment these men gave to each other, the despised fisherman was
seen a little on their left, coining up abreast, with a stroke and
velocity that promised further success. The expectati