was a proof that he was mellowing
with the years, for Girolamo never forgot this unwelcome and
dishonorable past, and Piero was always ill at ease in his presence.

"Messer Magagnati," he began awkwardly, twirling his black cap in his
hand rather after the fashion of a gondolier than of the Chief of the
Nicolotti, "I must crave, by dawn of the morrow, the blessing of San
Nicolo--of holy memory."

"Enter," said Girolamo, with a reluctance not wholly concealed by his
attempt at courtesy, for he felt the moments to be the more precious
that the dawn was near; but the invocation of the sailor's patron saint
portended a journey. "Verily, Piero, thy comings and goings have been,
of late, so frequent that one learns the wisdom of not mourning
over-much when thou dost crave an ave at the shrine of San Nicolo. May
he grant thee favoring breezes! Thou art in favor with the Ten, they
tell me."

Piero shrugged his shoulders. "Favor or disfavor," he said, "it is but
the turning of the head--and both may lead to that place of unsought
distinction between San Marco and San Teodoro, if the orders of their
Excellencies bring not the end they sought. But it matters little--a
candle flame is better blown out than dying spent."

"And whither art thou bent on the morrow?"

"Nay, Messer Girolamo, that is not mine own secret. But this word would
I leave with thee; if, perchance, I return not before many days, seek me
on the border-land--at the point nearest Roman dominions." He had come
close to the old merchant, and uttered the last words in a tone very low
and full of meaning.

Girolamo started. "On the border-land of Rome!" he echoed. "This mission
of thine is then weighty; and thou fearest----"

"Nay, I fear naught," said Piero haughtily. "But the times are perilous;
and later, if thou would'st seek me, thou hast the clew. But of the
mission, to which I am sworn in secrecy, let it not be known that I have
so much as named it--it would argue ill for me and thee. And the clew is
for thy using only. Meanwhile, forget that I have spoken. The Ave Maria
will soon waken the fishers of Murano. _Addio_!"

But he still waited as if he had not uttered all his mind. Girolamo
studied his face closely.

"There is more," he said. "Speak!"

"By the Holy Madonna of San Donato!" said Piero, casting off his
restraint with a sudden impulse, "if I come not back, I would have thee
know that if ever there came a chance to me to serve Marina--the Lad