rly accredited as
Ambassador. She played as an infant with the royal princes of England."

"And that was her father?"

"Assuredly: young ladies of Donna Polixena's rank do not go abroad save
with their parents or a duenna."

Just then a soft hand slid into Tony's. His heart gave a foolish bound,
and he turned about half-expecting to meet again the merry eyes under
the hood; but saw instead a slender brown boy, in some kind of fanciful
page's dress, who thrust a folded paper between his fingers and vanished
in the throng. Tony, in a tingle, glanced surreptitiously at the Count,
who appeared absorbed in his prayers. The crowd, at the ringing of a
bell, had in fact been overswept by a sudden wave of devotion; and Tony
seized the moment to step beneath a lighted shrine with his letter.

"I am in dreadful trouble and implore your help. Polixena"--he read;
but hardly had he seized the sense of the words when a hand fell on his
shoulder, and a stern-looking man in a cocked hat, and bearing a kind of
rod or mace, pronounced a few words in Venetian.

Tony, with a start, thrust the letter in his breast, and tried to jerk
himself free; but the harder he jerked the tighter grew the other's
grip, and the Count, presently perceiving what had happened, pushed
his way through the crowd, and whispered hastily to his companion: "For
God's sake, make no struggle. This is serious. Keep quiet and do as I
tell you."

Tony was no chicken-heart. He had something of a name for pugnacity
among the lads of his own age at home, and was not the man to stand in
Venice what he would have resented in Salem; but the devil of it was
that this black fellow seemed to be pointing to the letter in his
breast; and this suspicion was confirmed by the Count's agitated
whisper.

"This is one of the agents of the Ten.--For God's sake, no outcry." He
exchanged a word or two with the mace-bearer and again turned to Tony.
"You have been seen concealing a letter about your person--"

"And what of that?" says Tony furiously.

"Gently, gently, my master. A letter handed to you by the page of Donna
Polixena Cador.--A black business! Oh, a very black business! This Cador
is one of the most powerful nobles in Venice--I beseech you, not a word,
sir! Let me think--deliberate--"

His hand on Tony's shoulder, he carried on a rapid dialogue with the
potentate in the cocked hat.

"I am sorry, sir--but our young ladies of rank are as jealously guarded
as the Grand