is devotions in the church. He seemed disturbed, hesitated,
and hung his head.

Standing behind him, Gambardella laid a heavy hand on the slight
shoulder, while Trombin, in front, grasped his left wrist roughly, to
draw it out of his frock.

At this the young monk suddenly burst into a flood of tears under his
cowl, and began to sob bitterly.

'What fish have we caught here?' asked Gambardella, laughing for the
first time that day, and he seized the point of the hood at the back to
pull it off the head and face.

But instantly the monk's right hand went up and held it down in front
desperately.

'No, no! Please--you shall have the ring--anything--only let me go!'

There was no mistaking the feminine voice now, broken as it was with
sobbing, and Trombin made one step backward on the bridge and bowed to
the ground.

'Madam,' he said, with a grand air, 'we are not ruffians, but Venetian
gentlemen. We will respect your disguise, and shall be delighted and
honoured to see you safely to your own door. For this little service we
shall be more than rewarded if you will leave us your ring in
recollection of our auspicious meeting!'

'As a further return for your kindness,' added Gambardella, speaking
over the disguised lady's shoulder, 'we are at your service, to rid you
of any obnoxious friends or relations.'

'I see that you are Bravi,' the lady said, keeping her face closely
concealed under the hood. 'I am the less unwilling to part with my ring
since I may have need of you. But where can I find you in that case?'

'When we are unoccupied, you will find us at our devotions in the Church
of the Frari during the Benediction, any day,' answered Trombin,
receiving the ring from the delicate white fingers that held it out to
him.

He bowed as he took it, and flattened himself against the rail of the
wooden bridge, hat in hand, to let the disguised lady go by.

'Shall we follow you, Madam, for your greater safety?' asked
Gambardella.

'No, I pray you! I will go alone. I live near here.'

'We wish your ladyship a very happy night,' Trombin answered.

'The same to you,' said the young voice.

She was out of sight in a few seconds in spite of her white monk's
frock, which might have been seen at a considerable distance even in the
gloom of the narrow lane beyond the bridge. Trombin, who tried to follow
her with his sharp eyes, was sure that she had turned into a cross alley
that led to the large court in which the