rity. Don
Camillo knew that there was no condition of life, however degraded or
lost to the world, which had not its own particular opinions of the
faith due to its fellows; and he had seen enough of the sinuous course
of the oligarchy of Venice, to understand that it was quite possible its
shameless and irresponsible duplicity might offend the principles of
even an assassin. Less odium was attached to men of that class, in Italy
and at that day, than will be easily imagined in a country like this;
for the radical defects and the vicious administration of the laws,
caused an irritable and sensitive people too often to take into their
own hands the right of redressing their own wrongs. Custom had lessened
the odium of the crime; and though society denounced the assassin
himself, it is scarcely too much to say, that his employer was regarded
with little more disgust than the religious of our time regard the
survivor of a private combat. Still it was not usual for nobles like Don
Camillo to hold intercourse, beyond that which the required service
exacted, with men of Jacopo's cast; but the language and manner of the
Bravo so strongly attracted the curiosity, and even the sympathy of his
companion, that the latter unconsciously sheathed his rapier and drew
nearer.

"Thy penitence and regrets, Jacopo, may lead thee yet nearer to virtue,"
he said, "than mere abandonment of the Senate's service. Seek out some
godly priest, and ease thy soul by confession and prayer."

The Bravo trembled in every limb, and his eye turned wistfully to the
countenance of the other.

"Speak, Jacopo; even I will hear thee, if thou would'st remove the
mountain from thy breast."

"Thanks, noble Signore! a thousand thanks for this glimpse of sympathy
to which I have long been a stranger! None know how dear a word of
kindness is to one who has been condemned by all, as I have been. I have
prayed--I have craved--I have wept for some ear to listen to my tale,
and I thought I had found one who would have heard me without scorn,
when the cold policy of the Senate struck him. I came here to commune
with the hated dead, when chance brought us together. Could I--" the
Bravo paused and looked doubtfully again at his companion.

"Say on, Jacopo."

"I have not dared to trust my secrets even to the confessional, Signore,
and can I be so bold as to offer them to you."

"Truly, it is a strange behest!"

"Signore, it is. You are noble, I am of humble blood