, and their democratic
ardor.--Ed.)

"Health and brotherhood to him! I have much to impart to you both. I
will meet you at night, Dandolo. But in the streets we may be observed."

"And I dare not appoint my own house; tyranny makes spies of our very
walls. But the place herein designated is secure;" and he slipped an
address into the hand of his correspondent.

"To-night, then, at nine! Meanwhile I have other business." The man
paused, his colour changed, and it was with an eager and passionate
voice that he resumed,--

"Your last letter mentioned this wealthy and mysterious visitor,--this
Zanoni. He is still at Venice?"

"I heard that he had left this morning; but his wife is still here."

"His wife!--that is well!"

"What know you of him? Think you that he would join us? His wealth would
be--"

"His house, his address,--quick!" interrupted the man.

"The Palazzo di --, on the Grand Canal."

"I thank you,--at nine we meet."

The man hurried on through the street from which he had emerged; and,
passing by the house in which he had taken up his lodging (he had
arrived at Venice the night before), a woman who stood by the door
caught his arm.

"Monsieur," she said in French, "I have been watching for your return.
Do you understand me? I will brave all, risk all, to go back with you to
France,--to stand, through life or in death, by my husband's side!"

"Citoyenne, I promised your husband that, if such your choice, I would
hazard my own safety to aid it. But think again! Your husband is one of
the faction which Robespierre's eyes have already marked; he cannot
fly. All France is become a prison to the 'suspect.' You do not endanger
yourself by return. Frankly, citoyenne, the fate you would share may be
the guillotine. I speak (as you know by his letter) as your husband bade
me."

"Monsieur, I will return with you," said the woman, with a smile upon
her pale face.

"And yet you deserted your husband in the fair sunshine of the
Revolution, to return to him amidst its storms and thunder," said the
man, in a tone half of wonder, half rebuke.

"Because my father's days were doomed; because he had no safety but in
flight to a foreign land; because he was old and penniless, and had none
but me to work for him; because my husband was not then in danger,
and my father was! HE is dead--dead! My husband is in danger now. The
daughter's duties are no more,--the wife's return!"

"Be it so, citoyenne; on the third