for!" sneered Fra Antonio, who could not be converted
to the prevailing tone of admiration for this abnormal being who walked
among them not as other men, and toward whom his own attitude was a
singular compound of obsequiousness and cynicism. "Even the slippers of
your saint can do no wrong," he added venomously.

"But thou, in canonized shoes, couldst walk but wearily, Fra Antonio,
lest they should lead thee in unwonted ways!" one of the party retorted
maliciously.

"Fra Paolo hath fear of no man, and that which he declareth he knoweth,"
said another of the frati, lowering his voice and glancing about him
furtively. "And it hath chanced to him, more than once, to be wiser than
the Serenissimo and the Ten themselves--may San Marco have other uses
for his ears! But the day that our famous Signor Bragadin was summoned
from his palace on the Giudecca to make his promised gold for the
Signoria, I stood with the crowd in the Merceria to see him pass, with
his two black dogs and their golden collars looking for all the world
like powers of evil! And our gold-maker himself going to the Senate like
a noble, with his friends the Cornaro and the Dandolo in crimson
robes--the people thronging to see him pass!"

"Ay, Bragadin was a saintly man!" one of them retorted mockingly. "Dost
remember the tale how that he fooled the worshipful Signoria to leave
him a week in peace, that he might take the blessed sacrament quietly,
finding therein 'a holy joy' that should fit him to proceed to the
service of Venice--looking, meanwhile, for means of escape?"

"_Davvero_! but this was the hour of his highest favor, and I followed
with the rest of the crowd till there was scarce breathing space under
the clock tower, where the _Magi_ were just coming forth to salute the
Madonna and the Bambino at the stroke of the day; and the people were
shouting so one could not hear the bell for cries of 'Gold! gold!
Bragadin!'

"We surged back against the doorway of the 'Nave d'Oro,' the people
struggling with each other lest they should lose the sight as he passed
through the Piazza, and suddenly there came a voice,--cold, and
scornful, and low, but no man lost the words,--'Thou art wearied in the
multitude of thy counsels. Let now the astrologers, the star-gazers, the
monthly prognosticators stand up and save thee from these things that
shall come upon thee!' The people stopped their pushing and looked
aghast to see who spake, but I could have sworn