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and were already deep in a
suite of gloomy apartments, before the gratitude and professional pride
of the gondolier were exhausted.
    "Aided by a powerful arm and a fleet gondola, thy chance will be as good
as another's, Gino," said Don Camillo, closing the door of his cabinet
on his servant; "at present thou mayest give some proof of zeal in my
service, in another manner. Is the face of a man called Jacopo Frontoni
known to thee?"
    "Eccellenza!" exclaimed the gondolier, gasping for breath.
    "I ask thee if thou knowest the countenance of one named Frontoni?"
    "His countenance, Signore!"
    "By what else would'st thou distinguish a man?"
    "A man, Signor' Don Camillo!"
    "Art thou mocking thy master, Gino? I have asked thee if thou art
acquainted with the person of a certain Jacopo Frontoni, a dweller here
in Venice?"
    "Eccellenza, yes."
    "He I mean has been long remarked by the misfortunes of his family; the
father being now in exile on the Dalmatian coast, or elsewhere."
    "Eccellenza, yes."
    "There are many of the name of Frontoni, and it is important that thou
should'st not mistake the man. Jacopo, of that family, is a youth of
some five-and-twenty, of an active frame and melancholy visage, and of
less vivacity of temperament than is wont, at his years."
    "Eccellenza, yes."
    "One who consorts but little with his fellows, and who is rather noted
for the silence and industry with which he attends to his concerns, than
for any of the usual pleasantries and trifling of men of his cast. A
certain Jacopo Frontoni, that hath his abode somewhere near the
arsenal?"
    "Cospetto! Signor' Duca, the man is as well known to us gondoliers as
the bridge of the Rialto! Your eccellenza has no need to trouble
yourself to describe him."
    Don Camillo Monforte was searching among the papers of a secretaire. He
raised his eyes in some little amazement at the sally of his dependant,
and then he quietly resumed his occupation.
    "If thou knowest the man, it is enough."
    "Eccellenza, yes. And what is your pleasure with this accursed Jacopo?"
    The Duke of Sant' Agata seemed to recollect himself. He replaced the
papers which had been deranged, and he closed the secretaire.
    "Gino," he said, in a tone of confidence and amity, "thou wert born on
my estates, though so long trained here to the oar in Venice, and thou
hast passed thy life in my service."
    "Eccellenza, yes."
    "It is my desire that thou should'st end thy days where they began. I
have had much confidence in thy discretion hitherto, and I have
satisfaction in saying it has never failed thee, notwithstanding thou
hast necessarily been a witness of some exploits of youth which might
have drawn embarrassment on thy master were thy tongue less disposed to
silence."
    "Eccellenza, yes."
    Don Camillo smiled; but the gleam of humor gave way to a look of grave
and anxious thought.
    "As thou knowest the person of him I have named, our affair is simple.
Take this packet," he continued, placing a sealed letter of more than
usual size into the hand of the gondolier, and drawing from his finger a
signet ring, "with this token of thy authority. Within that arch of the
Doge's palace which leads to the canal of San Marco, beneath the Bridge
of Sighs, thou wilt find Jacopo. Give him the packet; and, should he
demand it, withhold not the ring. Wait his bidding, and return with the
answer."
    Gino received this commission with profound respect, but with an awe he
could not conceal. Habitual deference to his master appeared to struggle
with deep distaste for the office he was required to perform; and there
was even some manifestation of a more principled reluctance, in his
hesitating yet humble manner. If Don Camillo noted the air and
countenance of his menial at all, he effectually concealed it.
    "At the arched passage of the palace, beneath the Bridge of Sighs," he
coolly added; "and let thy arrival there be timed, as near as may be, to
the first hour of the night."
    "I would, Signore, that you had been pleased to