 | CHAPTER XIII. The bravo |  |
13. CHAPTER XIII.
Shelton.
A pause like that which accompanies self-contemplation,
and perhaps conscious distrust of purpose,
succeeded. Then the Three arose, together, and
began to lay aside the instruments of their disguise.
When the masks were removed, they exposed the
grave visages of men in the decline of life, athwart
which worldly cares and worldly passions had
drawn those deep lines, which no subsequent ease
or resignation can erase. During the process of
unrobing neither spoke, for the affair, on which they
had just been employed, caused novel and disagreeable
sensations to them all. When they were delivered
from their superfluous garments and their
masks, however, they drew near the table, and each
sought that relief for his limbs and person which was
natural to the long restraint he had undergone.
“There are letters from the French king intercepted,”
said one, after time had permitted them to
rally their thoughts;—“it would appear they treat
of the new intentions of the emperor.”
“Have they been restored to the ambassador? or
another.
“On that we must take counsel, at our leisure. I
have naught else to communicate, except that the
order given to intercept the messenger of the Holy
See hath failed of its object.”
“Of this the secretaries advertised me. We must
look into the negligence of the agents, for there is
good reason to believe much useful knowledge would
have come from that seizure.”
“As the attempt is already known and much spoken
of, care must be had to issue orders for the arrest
of the robbers, else may the republic fall into
disrepute with its friends. There are names on our
list which might be readily marked for punishment,
for that quarter of our patrimony is never in want of
proscribed, to conceal an accident of this nature.”
“Good heed will be had to this, since, as you say,
the affair is weighty. The government or the individual
that is negligent of reputation, cannot expect
long to retain the respect of its equals.”
“The ambition of the House of Hapsburgh robs
me of my sleep!” exclaimed the other, throwing
aside some papers, over which his eye had glanced,
in disgust. “Holy St. Theodore! what a scourge
to the race is the desire to augment territories and
to extend an unjust rule, beyond the boundaries of
reason and nature! Here have we, in Venice, been
in undisputed possession of provinces that are adapted
to our institutions, convenient to our wants, and
agreeable to our desires, for ages;—provinces that
were gallantly won by our ancestors, and which
cling to us as habits linger in our age: and yet are
they become objects of a covetous ambition to our
neighbor, under a vain pretext of a policy, that I
fear is strengthened by our increasing weakness. I
sicken, Signori, of my esteem for men, as I dive
deeper into their tempers and desires, and often wish
appetite for power, is not the Austrian the most rapacious
of all the princes of the earth?”
“More so, think you, worthy Signore, than the
Castilian? You overlook the unsatiated desire of the
Spanish king to extend his sway in Italy.”
“Hapsburgh or Bourbon; Turk or Englishman;
they all seem actuated by the same fell appetite for
dominion; and now that Venice hath no more to
hope, than to preserve her present advantages, the
least of all our enjoyments becomes a subject of
covetous envy to our enemies. There are passions
to weary one of an interference with governments,
and to send him to his cord of penitence and the
cloisters!”
“I never listen to your observations, Signore,
without quitting the chamber an edified man! Truly
this desire in the strangers to trespass on our privileges,
and it may be well said, privileges which
have been gained by our treasures and our blood,
becomes more manifest, daily. Should it not be
checked, St. Mark will be stripped, in the end, of
even a landing-place for a gondola on the main.”
“The leap of the winged lion is much curtailed,
excellent Sir, or these things might not be! It is no
longer in our power to persuade, or to command, as
of old, and our canals begin to be encumbered with
slimy weeds, instead of well-freighted argosies, and
swift-sailing feluccas.”
“The Portuguese hath done us irretrievable harm,
for without his African discoveries, we might yet
have retained the traffic in Indian commodities. I
cordially dislike the mongrel race, being, as it is,
half Gothic and half Moorish!”
“I trust not myself to think of their origin or of
their deeds, my friends, lest prejudice should kindle
feelings unbecoming a man and a Christian.—How
now, Signor Gradenigo; thou art thoughtful?”
The third member of the secret council, who had
not spoken since the disappearance of the accused,
and who was no other than the reader's old acquaintance
of the name just mentioned, slowly
lifted his head, from a meditative position, at this
address.
“The examination of the fisherman hath recalled
scenes of my boyhood,” he answered, with a touch
of nature, that seldom found place in that chamber.
“I heard thee say, he was thy foster-brother,” returned
the other, struggling to conceal a gape.
“We drank of the same milk, and, for the first
years of life, we sported at the same games.”
“These imaginary kindred often give great uneasiness.
I am glad your trouble hath no other
source, for I had heard that the young heir of your
house hath shown a prodigal disposition of late, and
I feared that matter might have come to your knowledge,
as one of the council, that a father might not
wish to learn.”
The selfish features of the Signor Gradenigo, instantly
underwent a change. He glanced curiously,
and with a strong distrust, but in a covert manner,
at the fallen eyes of his two companions, anxious
to penetrate their secret thoughts ere he ventured to
expose his own.
“Is there aught of complaint against the youth?”
he demanded, in a voice of hesitation. “You understand
a father's interest, and will not conceal the
truth.”
“Signore, you know that the agents of the police
are active, and little that comes to their knowledge
fails to reach the ears of the council. But, at the
worst, the matter is not of life or death. It can
only cost the inconsiderate young man a visit to
Dalmatia, or an order to waste the summer at the
foot of the Alps.”
“Youth is the season of indiscretion, as ye know,
Signori,” returned the father, breathing more freely,
“and as none become old that have not been young,
I have little need to awaken your recollection of its
weaknesses. I trust my son is incapable of designing
aught against the republic?”
“Of that he is not suspected.” A slight expression
of irony crossed the features of the old senator,
as he spoke. “But he is represented as aiming too
freely at the person and wealth of your ward; and
that she, who is the especial care of St. Mark, is not
to be solicited without the consent of the senate, is
an usage well known to one of its most ancient and
most honorable members.”
“Such is the law, and none coming of me shall
show it disrespect. I have preferred my claims to
that connexion, openly, but with diffidence; and I
await the decision of the state, in respectful confidence.”
His associates bowed in courteous acknowledgment
of the justice of what he said, and of the
loyalty of his conduct, but it was in the manner of
men too long accustomed to duplicity, to be easily
duped.
“None doubt it, worthy Signor Gradenigo, for
thy faith to the state is ever quoted as a model for
the young, and as a subject for the approbation of
the more experienced. Hast thou any communications
to make on the interest of the young heiress,
thyself?”
“I am pained to say, that the deep obligation conferred
by Don Camillo Monforte, seems to have
wrought upon her youthful imagination, and I apprehend
that, in disposing of my ward, the state
will have to contend with the caprice of a female
mind. The waywardness of that age will give
more trouble, than the conduct of far graver matters.”
“Is the lady attended by suitable companions, in
her daily life?”
“Her companions are known to the Senate. In
so grave an interest, I would not act without their authority
and sanction. But the affair hath great need
of delicacy in its government. The circumstance,
that so much of my ward's fortune lies in the states
of the church, renders it necessary to await the
proper moment for disposing of her rights, and of
transferring their substance within the limits of the
republic, before we proceed to any act of decision.
Once assured of her wealth, she may be disposed of,
as seemeth best to the welfare of the state, without
further delay.”
“The lady hath a lineage and riches, and an excellence
of person, that might render her of great
account in some of these knotty negotiations, which
so much fetter our movements of late. The time
hath been, when a daughter of Venice, not more
fair, was wooed to the bed of a sovereign.”
“Signore, those days of glory and greatness exist
no longer. Should it be thought expedient to overlook
the natural claims of my son, and to bestow my
ward to the advantage of the republic, the most
that can be expected through her means, is a favorable
concession in some future treaty, or a new prop
to some of the many decaying interests of the city.
In this particular, she may be rendered of as much,
or even of more use, than the oldest and wisest of
our body. But that her will may be free, and the
child may have no obstacles to her happiness, it
will be necessary to make a speedy determination
of the claim preferred by Don Camillo. Can we do
better than to recommend a compromise, that he
may return without delay to his own Calabria?”
“The concern is weighty, and it demands deliberation.”
“He complains of our tardiness already, and not
claim was first preferred.”
“Signor Gradenigo, it is for the vigorous and
healthful to display their activity, the aged and the
tottering must move with caution. Were we, in
Venice, to betray precipitation in so weighty a concern,
without seeing an immediate interest in the
judgment, we should trifle with a gale of fortune that
every sirocco will not blow into the canals. We
must have terms with the lord of Sant Agata, or we
greatly slight our own advantage.”
“I hinted of the matter to your excellencies, as a
consideration for your wisdom; methinks it will be
something gained to remove one so dangerous, from
the recollection, and from before the eyes, of a lovesick
maiden.”
“Is the damsel so amorous?”
“She is of Italy, Signore, and our sun bestows
warm fancies and fervent minds.”
“Let her to the confessional and her prayers!
The godly prior of St. Mark will discipline her imagination,
till she shall conceit the Neapolitan a
Moor, and an infidel. Just San Teodoro, forgive
me! But thou canst remember the time, my
friends, when the penance of the church was not
without service, on thine own fickle tastes and truant
practices.”
“The Signore Gradenigo was a gallant in his
time,” observed the third, “as all well know who
travelled in his company. Thou wert much spoken
of at Versailles and at Vienna,—nay, thou canst not
deny thy vogue to one who, if he hath no other merit,
hath a memory.”
“I protest against these false recollections,” rejoined
the accused, a withered smile lighting his
faded countenance; “we have been young, Signori;
but among us all, I never knew a Venetian of more
general fashion and of better report, especially
spoken.”
“Account it not—account it not—'twas the weakness
of youth and the use of the times!—I remember
to have seen thee, Enrico, at Madrid, and a gayer
or more accomplished gentleman was not known at
the Spanish court.”
“Thy friendship blinded thee—I was a boy and
full of spirits; no more, I may assure thee. Didst
hear of my affair with the mosquetaire, when at
Paris?”
“Did I hear of the general war?—Thou art too
modest, to raise this doubt of a meeting that occupied
the coteries for a month, as it had been a victory
of the powers! Signor Gradenigo, it was a
pleasure to call him countryman at that time, for I
do assure thee, a sprightlier or a more gallant gentleman
did not walk the terrace.”
“Thou tellest me of what my own eyes have
been a witness. Did I not arrive when men's voices
spoke of nothing else?—A beautiful court and a
pleasant capital were those of France in our day,
Signori.”
“None pleasanter, or of greater freedom of intercourse—St.
Mark aid me with his prayers! The
many pleasant hours that I have passed between the
Marais and the Chateau! Didst ever meet La Comtesses
de Mignon in the gardens?”
“Zitto—thou growest loquacious, caro; any, she
wanted not for grace and affability, that I will say.
In what a manner they played in the houses of resort,
at that time!”
“I know it to my cost. Will you lend me your
belief, dear friends? I arose from the table of La
Belle Duchesse de—, the loser of a thousand
sequins, and to this hour it seemeth but a moment
that I was occupied.”
“I remember the evening.—Thou wert seated between
miladi of England. Thou wert playing at rouge-et-noir,
in more ways than one, for thy eyes were
on thy neighbors instead of thy cards—Giulio, I
would have paid half the loss, to have read the
next epistle of the worthy senator thy father!”
“He never knew it—he never knew it—we had
our friends on the Rialto, and the account was settled
a few years later. Thou wast well with Ninon,
Enrico?”
“A companion of her leisure, and one who basked
in the sunshine of her wit.”
“Nay, they said thou wert of more favor—”
“Mere gossip of the salons. I do protest, gentlemen,—not
that others were better received—but
idle tongues will have their discourse!”
“Wert thou of the party, Alessandro, that went
in a fit of gaiety from country to country, till it
numbered ten courts at which it appeared in as
many weeks?”
“Was I not its mover? What a memory art thou
getting! 'T was for a hundred golden louis, and it
was bravely won by an hour. A postponement of
the reception by the elector of Bavaria, went near
to defeat us, but we bribed the groom of the chambers,
as thou mayest remember, and got into the
presence as it were by accident.”
“Was that held to be sufficient?”
“That was it, for our terms mentioned the condition
of holding discourse with ten sovereigns, in as
many weeks, in their own palaces. Oh! it was fairly
won; and I believe I may say that it was as
gaily expended!”
“For the latter will I vouch, since I never quitted
thee while a piece of it all remained. There are
divers means of dispensing gold in those northern
capitals, and the task was quickly accomplished.
youth and idleness!”
“It is a pity that their climates are so rude.”
A slight and general shudder expressed their
Italian sympathy, but the discourse did not the less
proceed.
“They might have a better sun, and a clearer
sky, but there is excellent cheer, and no want of
hospitality,” observed the Signor Gradenigo, who
maintained his full share of the dialogue, though we
have not found it necessary to separate sentiments
that were so common among the different speakers.
“I have seen pleasant hours even with the Genoese,
though their town hath a cast of reflection and sobriety,
that is not always suited to the dispositions
of youth.”
“Nay, Stockholm and Copenhagen have their
pleasures too, I do assure thee. I passed a season
between them. Your Dane is a good joker and a
hearty bottle companion.”
“In that the Englishman surpasseth all! If I
were to relate their powers of living in this manner,
dear friends, ye would discredit me. That which I
have seen often, seemeth impossible even to myself.
'Tis a gloomy abode, and one that we of Italy little
like, in common.”
“Name it not in comparison with Holland—wert
ever in Holland, friends?—didst ever enjoy the fashion
of Amsterdam and the Hague? I remember to
have heard a young Roman urge a friend to pass a
winter there; for the witty rogue termed it, the
beau ideal of the land of petticoats!”
The three old Italians, in whom this sally excited
a multitude of absurd recollections and pleasant
fancies, broke out into a general and hearty fit of
laughter. The sound of their cracked merriment,
echoing in that gloomy and solemn room, suddenly
recalled them to the recollection of their duties.
some extraordinary consequence was to follow so
extraordinary an interruption of the usual silence
of the place, like a child whose truant propensities
were about to draw detection on his offence,—and
then the principal of the council furtively wiped
the tears from his eyes, and resumed his gravity.
“Signori,” he said, fumbling in a bundle of papers.
“we must take up the matter of the fisherman—but
we will first inquire into the circumstance of the
signet left, the past night, in the lion's mouth. Signor
Gradenigo, you were charged with the examination.”
“The duty hath been executed, noble Sirs, and
with a success I had not hoped to meet with.
Haste, at our last meeting, prevented a perusal of
the paper to which it was attached, but it will now
be seen that the two have a connexion. Here is an
accusation which charges Don Camillo Monforte
with a design to bear away, beyond the power of
the senate, the Donna Violetta, my ward, in order
to possess her person and riches. It speaketh
of proofs in possession of the accuser, as if he
were an agent intrusted by the Neapolitan. As a
pledge of his truth, I suppose, for there is no mention
made of any other use, he sends the signet of
Don Camillo himself, which cannot have been obtained
without that noble's confidence.”
“Is it certain that he owns the ring?”
“Of that am I well assured. You know I am
especially charged with conducting his personal demand
with the senate, and frequent interviews have
given me opportunity to note that he was wont to
wear a signet, which is now wanting. My jeweller
of the Rialto hath sufficiently identified this, as
the missing ring.”
“Thus far it is clear, though there is an obscurity
in the circumstance that the signet of the accused
unexplained, renders the charge vague and uncertain.
Have you any clue to the writing, or any
means of knowing whence it comes?”
There was a small but nearly imperceptible red
spot on the cheek of the Signor Gradenigo, that did
not escape the keen distrust of his companions; but
he concealed his alarm, answering distinctly that he
had none.
“We must then defer a decision for further proof.
The justice of St. Mark hath been too much vaunted
to endanger its reputation by a hasty decree, in a
question which so closely touches the interest of a
powerful noble of Italy. Don Camillo Monforte
hath a name of distinction, and counteth too many
of note among his kindred, to be dealt with as we
might dispose of a gondolier, or the messenger of
some foreign state.”
“As respects him, Signore, you are undoubtedly
right. But may we not endanger our heiress by
too much tenderness?”
“There are many convents in Venice, Signore.”
“The monastic life is ill suited to the temper of
my ward,” the Signor Gradenigo drily observed,
“and I fear to hazard the experiment; gold is a key
to unlock the strongest cell; besides, we cannot with
due observance of propriety place a child of the
state in durance.”
“Signor Gradenigo, we have had this matter under
long and grave consideration, and agreeably to
our laws, when one of our number hath a palpable
interest in the affair, we have taken counsel of his
highness, who is of accord with us in sentiment.
Your personal interest in the lady might have warped
your usually excellent judgment; else, be assured,
we should have summoned you to the conference.”
The old senator, who thus unexpectedly found
himself excluded from consultation, on the very
temporary authority, stood abashed and silent—reading
in his countenance, however, a desire to know
more, his associates proceeded to communicate all
it was their intention he should hear.
“It hath been determined to remove the lady to a
suitable retirement, and for this purpose care hath
been already had to provide the means. Thou wilt
be temporarily relieved of a most grievous charge,
which cannot but have worked heavily on thy spirits,
and, in other particulars, have lessened thy much-value
usefulness to the republic.”
This unexpected communication was made with
marked courtesy of manner; but with an emphasis
and tone, that sufficiently acquainted the Signor
Gradenigo with the nature of the suspicions that beset
him. He had too long been familiar with the sinuous
policy of the council, in which, at intervals, he
had so often sat, not to understand that he would
run the risk of a more serious accusation were he
to hesitate in acknowledging its justice. Teaching
his features, therefore, to wear a smile as treacherous
as that of his wily companion, he answered with
seeming gratitude.
“His highness and you, my excellent colleagues,
have taken counsel of your good wishes and kindness
of heart, rather than of the duty of a poor subject
of St. Mark, to toil on in his service while he
hath strength and reason for the task,” he said.
“The management of a capricious female mind is
a concern of no light moment, and while I thank
you for this consideration of my case, you will permit
me to express my readiness to resume the
charge whenever it shall please the state again to
confer it.”
“Of this none are more persuaded than we, nor
are any better satisfied of your ability to discharge
the trust faithfully. But you enter, Signore, into all
equally unbecoming the republic, and one of its most
illustrious citizens, to leave a ward of the former in
a position that shall subject the latter to unmerited
censure. Believe me, we have thought less of Venice
in this matter, than of the honor and the interests of
the house of Gradenigo; for, should this Neapolitan
thwart our views, you of us all would be most liable
to be disapproved of.”
“A thousand thanks, excellent Sir,” returned the
deposed guardian. “You have taken a load from
my mind, and restored some of the freshness and
elasticity of youth! The claim of Don Camillo now
is no longer urgent, since it is your pleasure to remove
the lady, for a season, from the city.”
“ 'Twere better to hold it in deeper suspense, if it
were only to occupy his mind. Keep up thy communications,
as of wont, and withhold not hope,
which is a powerful exciter in minds that are not
deadened by experience. We shall not conceal from
one of our number, that a negotiation is already
near a termination, which will relieve the state from
the care of the damsel, and at some benefit to the
republic. Her estates lying without our limits greatly
facilitate the treaty, which hath only been withheld
from your knowledge, by the consideration, that
of late, we have rather too much overloaded thee
with affairs.”
Again the Signor Gradenigo bowed submissively,
and with apparent joy. He saw that his secret design
had been penetrated, notwithstanding all his
practised duplicity and specious candor; and he
submitted with that species of desperate resignation,
which becomes a habit, if not a virtue, in men long
accustomed to be governed despotically. When
this delicate subject, which required the utmost
finesse of Venetian policy, since it involved the interests
of one, who happened, at the moment, to be
three turned their attention to other matters, with
that semblance of indifference to personal feeling,
which practice in tortuous paths of state-intrigue
enabled men to assume.
“Since we are so happily of opinion, concerning
the disposition of the Donna Violetta,” coolly observed
the oldest senator, a rare specimen of hackneyed
and worldly morality, “we may look into our
list of daily duties—what saith the lion's mouths to-night?”
“A few of the ordinary and unmeaning accusations
that spring from personal hatred,” returned
another. “One chargeth his neighbor with oversight
in religious duties, and with some carelessness of
the fasts of Holy Church—a foolish scandal, fitted
for the ears of a curate.”
“Is there naught else?”
“Another complaineth of neglect in a husband.
The scrawl is in a woman's hand, and beareth, on
its face, the evidence of a woman's resentment.”
“Sudden to rise and easy to be appeased. Let
the neighborhood quiet the household by its sneers—
What next?”
“A suitor in the courts maketh complaint of the
tardiness of the judges.”
“This toucheth the reputation of St. Mark; it must
be looked to!”
“Hold!” interrupted the Signor Gradenigo. “The
tribunal acteth advisedly—'tis in the matter of a
Hebrew, who is thought to have secrets of importance.
The affair hath need of deliberation, I do assure
you.”
“Destroy the charge—Have we more?”
“Nothing of note. The usual number of pleasantries
and hobbling verses which tend to nothing.
If we get some useful gleanings, by these secret accusations,
we gain much nonsense. I would whip
Italian into better rhyme than this.”
“ 'Tis the wantonness of security. Let it pass,
for all that serveth to amuse suppresseth turbulent
thoughts. Shall we now see his highness, Signori?”
“You forget the fisherman,” gravely observed the
Signor Gradenigo.
“Your honor sayeth true. What a head for business
hath he! Nothing that is useful escapeth his
ready mind.”
The old senator, while he was too experienced to
be cajoled by such language, saw the necessity of
appearing flattered. Again he bowed, and protested
aloud and frequently against the justice of compliments
that he so little merited. When this little byplay
was over, they proceeded gravely to consider
the matter before them.
As the decision of the Council of Three will be
made apparent in the course of the narrative, we
shall not continue to detail the conversation that accompanied
their deliberations. The sitting was long,
so long indeed that when they arose, having completed
their business, the heavy clock of the square
tolled the hour of midnight.
“The doge will be impatient,” said one of the
two nameless members, as they threw on their
cloaks, before leaving the chamber. “I thought his
highness wore a more fatigued and feeble air to-day,
than he is wont to exhibit, at the festivities of
the city.”
“His highness is no longer young, Signore. If
I remember right, he greatly outnumbers either of
us in years. Our Lady of Loretto lend him strength
long to wear the ducal bonnet, and wisdom to wear
it well!”
“He hath lately sent offerings to her shrine.”
“Signore, he hath. His confessor hath gone in
'Tis not a serious gift, but a mere remembrance to
keep himself in the odor of sanctity. I doubt that
his reign will not be long!”
“There are, truly, signs of decay in his system.
He is a worthy prince, and we shall lose a father
when called to weep for his loss!”
“Most true, Signore: but the horned bonnet is
not an invulnerable shield against the arrows of death.
Age and infirmities are more potent than our wishes.”
“Thou art moody to-night, Signor Gradenigo.
Thou art not used to be so silent with thy friends.”
“I am not the less grateful, Signore, for their favors.
If I have a loaded countenance, I bear a lightened
heart. One who hath a daughter of his own
so happily bestowed in wedlock as thine, may judge
of the relief I feel by this disposition of my ward.
Joy affects the exterior, frequently, like sorrow; ay,
even to tears.”
His two companions looked at the speaker with
much obvious sympathy in their manners. They
then left the chamber of doom together. The menials
entered and extinguished the lights, leaving all
behind them in an obscurity that was no bad type
of the gloomy mysteries of the place.
| CHAPTER XIII. The bravo | |