, with a hearty laugh.

"'"Well," said Antonio, "here are ten _zecchini_; change clothes with
me, and let me take your place. I'll go aloft instead of you. Do, now,
good comrade Pietro!"

"'Pietro shook his head dubiously, and, weighing the money in his hand,
said: "You are very kind, Signer Antonio, to call a poor devil like me
your comrade still; and you are generous too. I want the money, of
course; but what one risks his neck for is the putting the flowers into
the beautiful Dogaressa's hand, and hearing her sweet voice. But
however, as it is _you_, Signer Antonio, be it as you wish."

"'They changed clothes rapidly, and scarcely was this done when Pietro
cried, "Get into the machine; there goes the signal!"

"At that moment the sea glowed with the flaming reflection of thousands
of flashes, and the shores re-echoed to thousands of crackling
detonations. Antonio flew up, with the rapidity of the storm-wind,
amongst the crackling, hissing fireworks, reached the gallery without
so much as a singe, and hovered before the Dogaressa, She had risen and
come forward; he felt her breath on his cheek--he handed her the
flowers; but, blissful as that instant was with the most unutterable
rapture of heaven, the burning torture of love seized him as with
red-hot arms. Out of his senses--mad with longing, rapture, torture--he
seized the Dogaressa's hand, pressed burning kisses on it, and cried,
in a tone of inconsolable sorrow, "Annunziata!" Then the machinery,
like a blind minister of destiny, tore him away from her, down to the
sea, where he fell into Pietro's arms--who was waiting for him in the
boat--stupefied and exhausted.

"'Meanwhile in the Doge's gallery all was uproar and confusion. A
little written paper had been found, fastened to the Doge's chair, on
which were the following words, in the popular dialect of Venice:

"'"Il Dose Falier della bella muier,
I altri la gode, e lui la mantien."

"'"The Doge, old Falier, sits in state with the fair
Who of love takes her fill, while my lord pays the bill."

"Old Falieri started up in glowing anger, and swore that the direst
punishment should be the lot of the person who committed this insulting
outrage. As he looked round him, his eyes lighted on Michaele Steno
standing below the gallery, on the Piazza, in the full blaze of the
illuminations. He immediately ordered the guards to seize him, as the
culprit. Every one protested