ich thy people
demand, or the power departs from thy keeping. Fabio becomes our
leader!"

There was a pause. At length the pirate-chief addressed his brethren.

"Ye have spoken! ye threaten, too! This power, of which ye speak, is
precious in your eyes. I value it not a zecchino; and wert thou to
depose me to-morrow, I should be the master of ye in another month,
did it please me to command a people so capricious. But think not,
though I speak to ye in this fashion, that I deny your demand. I but
speak thus to show ye that I fear you not. I will do as ye desire; but
did not your own wishes square evenly with mine own, I should bide the
issue of this struggle, though it were with knife to knife."

"It matters not how thou feelest, or what movest thee, Pietro, so that
thou dost as we demand. Thou wilt lead us to this spoil?"

"I will."

"It is enough. It will prove to thy people that they are still the
masters of the Lagune--that they are not sold to Venice."

"Leave me now."

The brethren took their departure. When they had gone, the chief spoke
in brief soliloquy, thus:

"Verily, there is the hand of fate in this. Methinks I see the history
once more, even as I beheld it in the magic liquor of the Spanish
Gipsy. Why thought I not of this before, dreaming vainly like an idiot
boy, as much in love with his music as himself, who hopes by the
tinkle of his guitar to win his beauty from the palace of her noble
sire, to the obscure retreats of his gondola. These brethren shall not
vex me. They are but the creatures of a fate!"

CHAPTER V.

Let us now return to Olivolo, to the altar-place of the church of San
Pietro di Castella, and resume the progress of that strangely mingled
ceremonial--mixed sunshine and sadness--which was broken by the
passionate conduct of Giovanni Gradenigo. We left the poor, crushed
Francesca, in a state of unconsciousness, in the arms of her
sympathizing kindred. For a brief space the impression was a painful
one upon the hearts of the vast assembly; but as the deep organ rolled
its ascending anthems, the emotion subsided. The people had assembled
for pleasure and an agreeable spectacle; and though sympathizing, for
a moment, with the pathetic fortunes of the sundered lovers, quite as
earnestly as it is possible for mere lookers-on to do, they were not
to be disappointed in the objects for which they came. The various
shows of the assemblage--the dresses, the jewels, the dignitaries, and