"I deny it not--and now that thou recallest the occasion, new light breaks in upon me. Villain, to thy faithlessness I owe the loss of my bride!"
Though the rapier was at the very throat of Jacopo, he did not flinch.
Gazing at his excited companion, he laughed in a smothered manner, but bitterly.
"It would seem that the Lord of Sant" Agata wishes to rob me of my trade," he said. "Arise, ye Israelites, and bear witness, lest men doubt the fact! A common bravo of the ca.n.a.ls is waylaid, among your despised graves, by the proudest Signor of Calabria! You have chosen your spot in mercy, Don Camillo, for sooner or later this crumbling and sea-worn earth is to receive me. Were I to die at the altar itself, with the most penitent prayer of holy church on my lips, the bigots would send my body to rest among these hungry Hebrews and accursed heretics.
Yes, I am a man proscribed, and unfit to sleep with the faithful!"
His companion spoke with so strange a mixture of irony and melancholy, that the purpose of Don Camillo wavered. But remembering his loss, he shook the rapier"s point, and continued:--
"Thy taunts and effrontery will not avail thee, knave," he cried. "Thou knowest that I would have engaged thee as the leader of a chosen band, to favor the flight of one dear from Venice."
"Nothing more true, Signore."
"And thou didst refuse the service?"
"n.o.ble duke, I did."
"Not content with this, having learned the particulars of my project, thou sold the secret to the Senate?"
"Don Camillo Monforte, I did not. My engagements with the council would not permit me to serve you; else, by the brightest star of yonder vault!
it would have gladdened my heart to have witnessed the happiness of two young and faithful lovers. No--no--no; they know me not, who think I cannot find pleasure in the joy of another. I told you that I was the Senate"s, and there the matter ended."
"And I had the weakness to believe thee, Jacopo, for thou hast a character so strangely compounded of good and evil, and bearest so fair a name for observance of thy faith, that the seeming frankness of the answer lulled me to security. Fellow, I have been betrayed, and that at the moment when I thought success most sure."
Jacopo manifested interest, but, as he moved slowly on, accompanied by the vigilant and zealous n.o.ble, he smiled coldly, like one who had pity for the other"s credulity.
"In bitterness of soul, I have cursed the whole race for its treachery,"
continued the Neapolitan.
"This is rather for the priore of St. Mark, than for the ear of one who carries a public stiletto."
"My gondola has been imitated--the liveries of my people copied--my bride stolen. Thou answerest not, Jacopo?"
"What answer would you have? You have been cozened, Signore, in a state, whose very prince dare not trust his secrets to his wife. You would have robbed Venice of an heiress, and Venice has robbed you of a bride. You have played high, Don Camillo, and have lost a heavy stake. You have thought of your own wishes and rights, while you have pretended to serve Venice with the Spaniard."
Don Camillo started in surprise.
"Why this wonder, Signore? You forget that I have lived much among those who weigh the chances of every political interest, and that your name is often in their mouths. This marriage is doubly disagreeable to Venice, who has nearly as much need of the bridegroom as of the bride. The council hath long ago forbidden the banns."
"Aye--but the means?--explain the means by which I have been duped, lest the treachery be ascribed to thee."
"Signore, the very marbles of the city give up their secrets to the state. I have seen much, and understood much, when my superiors have believed me merely a tool; but I have seen much that even those who employed me could not comprehend. I could have foretold this consummation of your nuptials, had I known of their celebration."
"This thou could"st not have done, without being an agent of their treachery."
"The schemes of the selfish may be foretold; it is only the generous and the honest that baffle calculation. He who can gain a knowledge of the present interest of Venice is master of her dearest secrets of state; for what she wishes she will do, unless the service cost too dear. As for the means--how can they be wanting in a household like yours, Signore?"
"I trusted none but those deepest in my confidence."
"Don Camillo, there is not a servitor in your palace, Gino alone excepted, who is not a hireling of the Senate, or of its agents. The very gondoliers who row you to your daily pleasures have had their hauds crossed with the Republic"s sequins. Nay, they are not only paid to watch you, but to watch each other."
"Can this be true!"
"Have you ever doubted it, Signore?" asked Jacopo, looking up like one who admired another"s simplicity.
"I knew them to be false--pretenders to a faith that in secret they mock; but I had not believed they dared to tamper with the very menials of my person. This undermining of the security of families is to destroy society at its core."
"You talk like one who hath not been long a bridegroom, Signore," said the Bravo with a hollow laugh. "A year hence, you may know what it is to have your own wife turning your secret thoughts into gold."
"And thou servest them, Jacopo?"
"Who does not, in some manner suited to his habits? We are not masters of our fortune, Don Camillo, or the Duke of Sant" Agata would not be turning his influence with a relative to the advantage of the Republic.
What I have done hath not been done without bitter penitence, and an agony of soul that your own light servitude may have spared you, Signore."
"Poor Jacopo!"
"If I have lived through it all, "tis because one mightier than the state hath not deserted me. But, Don Camillo Monforte, there are crimes which pa.s.s beyond the powers of man to endure."
The Bravo shuddered, and he moved among the despised graves in silence.
"They have then proved too ruthless even for thee?" said Don Camillo, who watched the contracting eye and heaving form of his companion, in wonder.
"Signore, they have. I have witnessed, this night, a proof of their heartlessness and bad faith, that hath caused me to look forward to my own fate. The delusion is over; from this hour I serve them no longer."
The Bravo spoke with deep feeling, and his companion fancied, strange as it was coming from such a man, with an air of wounded integrity. 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 a.s.sa.s.sin. Less odium was attached to men of that cla.s.s, 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 a.s.sa.s.sin 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 n.o.bles 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 G.o.dly 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, n.o.ble 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 n.o.ble, I am of humble blood. Your ancestors were senators and Doges of Venice, while mine have been, since the fishermen first built their huts in the Lagunes, laborers on the ca.n.a.ls, and rowers of gondolas. You are powerful, and rich, and courted; while I am denounced, and in secret, I fear, condemned. In short, you are Don Camillo Monforte, and I am Jacopo Frontoni!"
Don Camillo was touched, for the Bravo spoke without bitterness, and in deep sorrow.
"I would thou wert at the confessional, poor Jacopo!" he said; "I am little able to give ease to such a burden."
"Signore, I have lived too long shut out from the good wishes of my fellows, and I can bear with it no longer. The accursed Senate may cut me off without warning, and then who will stop to look at my grave!
Signore, I must speak or die!"