Chapter V.

"If your master
Would have a queen his beggar, you must tell him
That majesty, to keep decorum, must
No less beg than a kingdom."

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.

The silent movement of the hearse-like gondola soon brought the fair Venetian and her female Mentor to the water-gate of the noble, who had been intrusted by the Senate with the especial guardianship of the person of the heiress. It was a residence of more than common gloom, possessing all the solemn but stately magnificence which then characterized the private dwellings of the patricians in that city of riches and pride. Its magnitude and architecture, though rather less imposing than those which distinguished the palace of the Donna Violetta, placed it among the private edifices of the first order, and all its external decorations showed it to be the habitation of one of high importance. Within, the noiseless steps and the air of silent distrust among the domestics, added to the gloomy grandeur of the apartments, rendered the abode no bad type of the Republic itself.

As neither of his present visitors was a stranger beneath the roof of the Signor Gradenigo—for so the proprietor of the palace was called—they ascended its massive stairs, without pausing to consider any of those novelties of construction that would attract the eye of one unaccustomed to such a dwelling. The rank and the known consequence of the Donna Violetta assured her of a ready reception; and while she was ushered to the suite of rooms above, by a crowd of bowing menials, one had gone, with becoming speed, to announce her approach to his master. When in the ante-chamber, however, the ward stopped, declining to proceed any further, in deference to the convenience and privacy of her guardian. The delay was short; for no sooner was the old senator apprised of her presence, than he hastened from his closet to do her honor, with a zeal that did credit to his fitness for the trust he filled. The countenance of the old patrician—a face in which thought and care had drawn as many lines as time—lighted with unequivocal satisfaction as he pressed forward to receive his beautiful ward. To her half-uttered apologies for the intrusion, he would not listen; but as he led her within, he gallantly professed his pleasure at being honored with her visits even at moments that, to her scrupulous delicacy, might appear the most ill-timed.

"Thou canst never come amiss, child as thou art of my ancient friend, and the especial care of the state!" he added. "The gates of the Gradenigo palace would open of themselves, at the latest period of the night, to receive such a guest. Besides, the hour is most suited to the convenience of one of thy quality who would breathe the fresh evening air on the canals. Were I to limit thee to hours and minutes, some truant wish of the moment—some innocent caprice of thy sex and years, might go ungratified. Ah! Donna Florinda, we may well pray that all our affection—not to call it weakness—for this persuasive girl, shall not in the end lead to her own disadvantage!"

"For the indulgence of both, I am grateful," returned Violetta; "I only fear to urge my little requests at moments when your precious time is more worthily occupied in behalf of the state."

"Thou overratest my consequence. I sometimes visit the Council of Three Hundred; but my years and infirmities preclude me now from serving the Republic as I could wish Praise be to St. Mark, our patron! its affairs are not unprosperous for our declining fortunes. We have dealt bravely with the infidel of late; the treaty with the Emperor is not to our wrong; and the anger of the church, for the late seeming breach of confidence on our part, has been diverted. We owe something in the latter affair to a young Neapolitan, who sojourns here at Venice, and who is not without interest at the Holy See, by reason of his uncle, the Cardinal Secretary. Much good is done by the influence of friends properly employed. 'Tis the secret of our success in the actual condition of Venice; for that which power cannot achieve must be trusted to favor and a wise moderation."

"Your declarations encourage me to become, once more, a suitor; for I will confess that, in addition to the desire of doing you honor, I have come equally with the wish to urge your great influence in behalf of an earnest suit I have."

"What now! Our young charge, Donna Florinda, has inherited, with the fortunes of her family, its ancient habits of patronage and protection! But we will not discourage the feeling, for it has a worthy origin, and, used with discretion, it fortifies the noble and powerful in their stations."

"And may we not say," mildly observed Donna Florinda, "that when the affluent and happy employ themselves with the cares of the less fortunate, they not only discharge a duty, but they cultivate a wholesome and useful state of mind?"

"Doubt it not. Nothing can be more useful than to give to each class in society, a proper sense of its obligations, and a just sentiment of its duties. These are opinions I greatly approve, and which I desire my ward may thoroughly understand."

"She is happy in possessing instructors so able and so willing to teach all she should know," rejoined Violetta.

"With this admission, may I ask the Signor Gradenigo to give ear to my petition?"

"Thy little requests are ever welcome. I would merely observe, that generous and ardent temperaments sometimes regard a distant object so steadily, as to overlook others that are not only nearer, and perhaps of still more urgent importance, but more attainable. In doing a benefit to one, we should be wary not to do injury to many. The relative of some one of thy household may have thoughtlessly enlisted for the wars?"

"Should it be so, I trust the recruit will have the manhood not to quit his colors."

"Thy nurse, who is one little likely to forget the service she did thy infancy, urges the claim of some kinsman to an employment in the customs?"

"I believe all of that family are long since placed," said Violetta, laughing, "unless we might establish the good mother herself in some station of honor. I have naught to ask in their behalf."

"She who hath reared thee to this goodly and healthful beauty, would prefer a well-supported suit, but still is she better as she is, indolent, and, I fear, pampered by thy liberality. Thy private purse is drained by demands on thy charity;—or, perhaps, the waywardness of a female taste hath cost thee dear, of late?"

"Neither. I have little need of gold, for one of my years cannot properly maintain the magnificence of her condition. I come, guardian, with a far graver solicitation than any of these."

"I hope none in thy favor have been indiscreet of speech!" exclaimed the Signor Gradenigo, casting a hasty and suspicious look at his ward.

"If any have been so thoughtless, let them abide the punishment of their fault."

"I commend thy justice. In this age of novel opinions, innovations of all descriptions cannot be too severely checked. Were the senate to shut its ears to all the wild theories that are uttered by the unthinking and vain, their language would soon penetrate to the ill-regulated minds of the ignorant and idle. Ask me, if thou wilt, for purses in scores, but do not move me to forgetfulness of the guilt of the disturber of the public peace!"

"Not a sequin. My errand is of nobler quality."

"Speak without riddle, that I may know its object."

Now that nothing stood between her wish to speak, and her own manner of making known the request, Donna Violetta appeared to shrink from expressing it. Her color went and came, and she sought support from the eye of her attentive and wondering companion. As the latter was ignorant of her intention, however, she could do no more than encourage the supplicant by such an expression of sympathy as woman rarely refuses to her sex, in any trial that involves their peculiar and distinctive feelings. Violetta struggled with her diffidence, and then laughing at her own want of self-possession, she continued—

"You know, Signor Gradenigo," she said, with a loftiness that was not less puzzling, though far more intelligible than the agitation which a moment before had embarrassed her manner, "that I am the last of a line eminent for centuries in the state of Venice."

"So sayeth our history."

"That I bear a name long known, and which it becomes me to shield from all imputation of discredit in my own person."

"This is so true, that it scarce needed so clear an exposure," drily returned the senator.

"And that, though thus gifted by the accidents of fortune and birth, I have received a boon that remains still unrequited, in a manner to do no honor to the house of Thiepolo."

"This becometh serious! Donna Florinda, our ward is more earnest than intelligible, and I must ask an explanation at your hands. It becometh her not to receive boons of this nature from any."

"Though unprepared for this request," mildly replied the companion, "I think she speaks of the boon of life."

The Signor Gradenigo's countenance assumed a dark expression.

"I understand you," he said, coldly. "It is true that the Neapolitan was ready to rescue thee, when the calamity befell thy uncle of Florence, but Don Camillo Monforte is not a common diver of the Lido, to be rewarded like him who finds a bauble dropped from a gondola. Thou hast thanked the cavalier; I trust that a noble maiden can do no more in a case like this."

"That I have thanked him, and thanked him from my soul, is true!" fervently exclaimed Violetta. "When I forget the service, Maria Santissima and the good saints forget me!"

"I doubt, Signora Florinda, that your charge hath spent more hours among the light works of her late father's library, and less time with her missal, than becomes her birth?"

The eye of Violetta kindled, and she folded an arm around the form of her shrinking companion, who drew down her veil at this reproof, though she forbore to answer.

"Signor Gradenigo," said the young heiress, "I may have done discredit to my instructors, but if the pupil has been idle the fault should not be visited on the innocent. It is some evidence that the commands of holy church have not been neglected, that I now come to entreat favor in behalf of one to whom I owe my life. Don Camillo Monforte has long pursued, without success, a claim so just, that were there no other motive to concede it, the character of Venice should teach the senators the danger of delay."

"My ward has spent lier leisure with the doctors of Padua! The Republic hath its laws, and none who have right on their side appeal to them in vain. Thy gratitude is not to be censured; it is rather worthy of thy origin and hopes; still, Donna Violetta, we should remember how difficult it is to winnow the truth from the chaff of imposition and legal subtlety, and, most of all, should a judge be certain before he gives his decree, that, in confirming the claims of one applicant, he does not defeat those of another."

"They tamper with his rights! Being born in a foreign realm, he is required to renounce more in the land of the stranger than he will gain within the limits of the Republic! He wastes life and youth in pursuing a phantom! You are of weight in the senate, my guardian, and were you to lend him the support of your powerful voice and great instruction, a wronged noble would have justice, and Venice, though she might lose a trifle from her stores, would better deserve the character of which she is so jealous."

"Thou art a persuasive advocate, and I will think of what thou urgest," said the Signor Gradenigo, changing the frown which had been gathering about his brow, to a look of indulgence, with a facility that betrayed much practice in adapting the expression of his features to his policy. "I ought only to hearken to the Neapolitan in my public character of a judge; but his service to thee, and my weakness in thy behalf, extorts that thou would'st have."

Donna Violetta received the promise with a bright and guileless smile. She kissed the hand he extended as the pledge of his faith, with a fervor that gave her attentive guardian serious uneasiness.

"Thou art too winning even to be resisted by one wearied with rebutting plausible pretensions," he added. "The young and the generous, Donna Florinda, believe all to be as their own wishes and simplicity would have them. As for this right of Don Camillo—but no matter—thou wilt have it so, and it shall be examined with that blindness which is said to be the failing of justice."

"I have understood the metaphor to mean blind to favor, but not insensible to the right."

"I fear that is a sense which might defeat our hopes—but we will look into it. My son has been mindful of his duty and respect of late, Donna Violetta, as I would have him? The boy wants little urging, I know, to do honor to my ward and the fairest of Venice. Thou wilt receive him with friendship, for the love thou bearest his father?"

Donna Violetta curtsied, but it was with womanly reserve.

"The door of my palace is never shut on the Signor Giacomo on all proper occasions," she said, coldly. "Signore, the son of my guardian could hardly be other than an honored visitor."

"I would have the boy attentive—and even more, I would have him prove some little of that great esteem,—but we live in a jealous city, Donna Florinda, and one in which prudence is a virtue of the highest price. If the youth is less urgent than I could wish, believe me, it is from the apprehension of giving premature alarm to those who interest themselves in the fortunes of our charge."

Both the ladies bowed, and by the manner in which they drew their cloaks about them, they made evident their wish to retire. Donna Violetta craved a blessing, and after the usual compliments, and a short dialogue of courtesy, she and her companion withdrew to their boat.

The Signor Gradenigo paced the room in which he had received his ward for several minutes in silence. Not a sound of any sort was audible throughout the whole of that vast abode, the stillness and cautious tread of those within, answering to the quiet town without; but a young man, in whose countenance and air were to be seen most of the usual signs of a well-bred profligacy, sauntering along the suite of chambers, at length caught the eye of the senator, who beckoned him to approach.

"Thou art unhappy, as of wont, Giacomo," he said, in a tone between paternal indulgence and reproach. "The Donna Violetta has, but a minute since, departed, and thou wert absent. Some unworthy intrigue with the daughter of a jeweller, or some injurious bargain of thy hopes with the father, hath occupied the time that might have been devoted more honorably, and to far better profit."

"You do me little justice," returned the youth. "Neither Jew nor Jewess hath this day greeted my eye."

"The calendar should mark the time for its singularity! I would know, Giacomo, if thou turnest to a right advantage the occasion of my guardianship, and if thou thinkest with sufficient gravity of the importance of what I urge?"

"Doubt it not, father. He who hath so much suffered for the want of that which the Donna Violetta possesses in so great a profusion, needeth little prompting on such a subject. By refusing to supply my wants, you have made certain of my consent. There is not a fool in Venice who sighs more loudly beneath his mistress's window, than I utter my pathetic wishes to the lady—when there is opportunity, and I am in the humor."

"Thou knowest the danger of alarming the senate?"

"Fear me not. My progress is by secret and gradual means. Neither my countenance nor my mind is unused to a mask—thanks to necessity! My spirits have been too buoyant not to have made me acquainted with duplicity!"

"Thou speakest, ungrateful boy, as if I denied thy youth the usual indulgences of thy years and rank. It is thy excesses, and not thy spirits, I would check. But I would not now harden thee with reproof. Giacomo, thou hast a rival in the stranger. His act in the Giudecca has won upon the fancy of the girl; and like all of generous and ardent natures, ignorant as she is of his merits, she supplies his character with all necessary qualities by her own ingenuity."

"I would she did the same by me!"

"With thee, Sirrah, my ward might be required to forget, rather than invent. Hast thou bethought thee of turning the eyes of the council on the danger which besets their heiress?"

"I have."

"And the means?"

"The plainest and the most certain—the lion's mouth."

"Ha! that, indeed, is a bold adventure."

"And, like all bold adventures, it is the more likely to succeed. For once, fortune hath not been a niggard with me. I have given them the Neapolitan's signet by way of proof."

"Giacomo! dost thou know the hazard of thy temerity? I hope there is no clue left in the handwriting, or by any other means taken to obtain the ring?"

"Father, though I may have overlooked thy instruction in less weighty matters, not an admonition which touches the policy of Venice hath been forgotten. The Neapolitan stands accused, and if thy council is faithful, he will be a suspected, if not a banished man."

"That the Council of Three will perform its trust is beyond dispute. I would I were as certain that thy indiscreet zeal may not lead to some unpleasant exposure!"

The shameless son stared at the father a moment in doubt, and then he passed into the more private parts of the palace, like one too much accustomed to double-dealing, to lend it a second, or a serious thought. The senator remained. His silent walk was now manifestly disturbed by great uneasiness; and he frequently passed a hand across his brow, as if he mused in pain. While thus occupied, a figure stole through the long suite of ante-chambers, and stopped near the door of the room he occupied. The intruder was aged; his face was tawny by exposure, and his hair thinned and whitened by time. His dress was that of a fisherman, being both scanty and of the meanest materials. Still there was a naturally noble and frank intelligence in his bold eye and prominent features, while the bare arms and naked legs exhibited a muscle and proportion which proved that nature was rather at a stand than in the decline. He had been many moments dangling his cap, in habitual but unembarrassed respect, before his presence was observed.

"Ha! thou here, Antonio!" exclaimed the senator, when their eyes met. "Why this visit?"

"Signore, my heart is heavy."

"Hath the calendar no saint—the fisherman no patron? I suppose the sirocco hath been tossing the waters of the bay, and thy nets are empty. Hold! thou art my foster-brother, and thou must not want."

The fisherman drew back with dignity, refusing the gift, simply, but decidedly, by the act.

"Signore, we have lived from childhood to old age since we drew our milk from the same breast; in all that time have you ever known me a beggar?"

"Thou art not wont to ask these boons, Antonio, it is true; but age conquers our pride with our strength. If it be not sequins that thou seekest, what would'st thou?"

"There are other wants than those of the body, Signore, and other sufferings besides hunger."

The countenance of the senator lowered. He cast a sharp glance at his foster-brother, and ere he answered he closed the door which communicated with the outer chamber.

"Thy words forebode disaffection, as of wont. Thou art accustomed to comment on measures and interests that are beyond thy limited reason, and thou knowest that thy opinions have already drawn displeasure on thee. The ignorant and the low are, to the state, as children, whose duty it is to obey, and not to cavil. Thy errand?"

"I am not the man you think me, Signore. I am used to poverty and want, and little satisfies my wishes. The senate is my master, and as such I honor it; but a fisherman hath his feelings as well as the Doge!"

"Again! These feelings of thine, Antonio, are most exacting. Thou namest them on all occasions, as if they were the engrossing concerns of life."

"Signore, are they not to me? Though I think mostly of my own concerns, still I can have a thought for the distress of those I honor. When the beautiful and youthful lady, your eccellenza's daughter, was called away to the company of the saints, I felt the blow as if it had been the death of my own child; and it has pleased God, as you very well know, Signore, not to leave me unacquainted with the anguish of such a loss."

"Thou art a good fellow, Antonio," returned the senator, covertly removing the moisture from his eyes; "an honest and a proud man, for thy condition!"

"She from whom we both drew our first nourishment, Signore, often told me, that next to my own kin, it was my duty to love the noble race she had helped to support. I make no merit of natural feeling, which is a gift from Heaven, and the greater is the reason that the state should not deal lightly with such affections."

"Once more the state! Name thy errand."

"Your eccellenza knows the history of my humble life. I need not tell you, Signore, of the sons which God, by the intercession of the Virgin and blessed St. Anthony, was pleased to bestow on me, or of the manner in which he hath seen proper to take them one by one away."

"Thou hast known sorrow, poor Antonio; I well remember thou hast suffered, too."

"Signore, I have. The deaths of five manly and honest sons is a blow to bring a groan from a rock. But I have known how to bless God, and be thankful!"

"Worthy fisherman, the Doge himself might envy this resignation. It is often easier to endure the loss than the life of a child, Antonio!"

"Signore, no boy of mine ever caused me grief, but the hour in which he died. And even then"—the old man turned aside to conceal the working of his features—"I struggled to remember from how much pain, and toil, and suffering they were removed to enjoy a more blessed state."

The lip of the Signer Gradenigo quivered, and he moved to and fro with a quicker step.

"I think, Antonio," he said, "I think, honest Antonio, I had masses said for the souls of them all?"

"Signore, you had; St. Anthony remember the kindness in your own extremity! I was wrong in saying that the youths never gave me sorrow but in dying, for there is a pain the rich cannot know, in being too poor to buy a prayer for a dead child!"

"Wilt thou have more masses? Son of thine shall never want a voice with the saints, for the ease of his soul!"

"I thank you, eccellenza, but I have faith in what has been done, and, more than all, in the mercy of God. My errand now is in behalf of the living."

The sympathy of the senator was suddenly checked, and he already listened with a doubting and suspicious air.

"Thy errand?" he simply repeated.

"Is to beg your interest, Signore, to obtain the release of my grandson from the galleys. They have seized the lad in his fourteenth year, and condemned him to the wars with the Infidels, without thought of his tender years, without thought of evil example, without thought of my age and loneliness, and without justice; for his father died in the last battle given to the Turk."

As he ceased, the fisherman riveted his look on the marble countenance of his auditor, wistfully endeavoring to trace the effect of his words. But all there was cold, unanswering, and void of human sympathy. The soulless, practised, and specious reasoning of the state, had long since deadened all feeling in the senator on any subject that touched an interest so vital as the maritime power of the Republic. He saw the hazard of innovation in the slightest approach to interests so delicate, and his mind was drilled by policy into an apathy that no charity could disturb, when there was question of the right of St. Mark to the services of his people.

"I would thou hadst come to beg masses, or gold, or aught but this, Antonio!" he answered, after a moment of delay. "Thou hast had the company of the boy, if I remember, from his birth, already."

"Signore, I have had that satisfaction, for he was an orphan born; and I would wish to have it until the child is fit to go into the world armed with an honesty and faith that shall keep him from harm. Were my own brave son here, he would ask no other fortune for the lad than such counsel and aid as a poor man has a right to bestow on his own flesh and blood."

"He fareth no worse than others; and thou knowest that the Republic hath need of every arm."

"Eccellenza, I saw the Signor Giacomo land from his gondola, as I entered the palace."

"Out upon thee, fellow! dost thou make no distinction between the son of a fisherman, one trained to the oar and toil, and the heir of an ancient house? Go to, presuming man, and remember thy condition, and the difference that God hath made between our children."

"Mine never gave me sorrow but the hour in which they died," said the fisherman, uttering a severe but mild reproof.

The Signor Gradenigo felt the sting of this retort, which in no degree aided the cause of his indiscreet foster-brother. After pacing the room in agitation for some time, he so far conquered his resentment as to answer more mildly, as became his rank.

"Antonio," he said, "thy disposition and boldness are not strangers to me; if thou would'st have masses for the dead, or gold for the living, they are thine; but in asking for my interest with the general of the galleys, thou askest that which, at a moment so critical, could not be yielded to the son of the Doge, were the Doge—"

"A fisherman," continued Antonio, observing that he hesitated—"Signore, adieu; I would not part in anger with my foster-brother, and I pray the saints to bless you and your house. May you never know the grief of losing a child by a fate far worse than death—that of destruction by vice."

As Antonio ceased, he made his reverence and departed by the way he had entered. He retired unnoticed, for the senator averted his eyes with a secret consciousness of the force of what the other in his simplicity had uttered; and it was some time before the latter knew he was alone. Another step, however, soon diverted his attention. The door re-opened, and a menial appeared. He announced that one without sought a private audience.

"Let him enter," answered the ready senator, smoothing his features to the customary cautious and distrustful expression.

The servant withdrew, when one masked and wearing a cloak quickly entered the room. When the latter instrument of disguise was thrown upon an arm, and the visor was removed, the form and face of the dreaded Jacopo became visible.