ped by a backward
sweep of the oars. The water was still in ebullition, when a form passed
into the gondola of the fisherman, the larger boat shot away again to
the distance of a few hundred feet, and remained at rest.

Antonio witnessed this movement in silent curiosity; but when he saw the
gondoliers of the state lying on their oars, he glanced his eye again
furtively in the direction of Jacopo, saw that all was safe, and faced
his companion with confidence. The brightness of the moon enabled him to
distinguish the dress and aspect of a bare-footed Carmelite. The latter
seemed more confounded than his companion, by the rapidity of the
movement, and the novelty of his situation. Notwithstanding his
confusion, however, an evident look of wonder crossed his mortified
features when he first beheld the humble condition, the thin and
whitened locks, and the general air and bearing of the old man with whom
he now found himself.

"Who art thou?" escaped him, in the impulse of surprise.

"Antonio of the Lamines! A fisherman that owes much to St. Anthony, for
favors little deserved."

"And why hath one like thee fallen beneath the Senate's displeasure?"

"I am honest and ready to do justice to others. If that offend the
great, they are men more to be pitied than envied."

"The convicted are always more disposed to believe themselves
unfortunate than guilty. The error is fatal, and it should be eradicated
from the mind, lest it lead to death."

"Go tell this to the patricians. They have need of plain counsel, and a
warning from the church."

"My son, there is pride and anger, and a perverse heart in thy replies.
The sins of the senators--and as they are men, they are not without
spot--can in no manner whiten thine own. Though an unjust sentence
should condemn one to punishment, it leaves the offences against God in
their native deformity. Men may pity him who hath wrongfully undergone
the anger of the world, but the church will only pronounce pardon on him
who confesseth his errors, with a sincere admission of their magnitude."

"Have you come, father, to shrive a penitent?"

"Such is my errand. I lament the occasion, and if what I fear be true,
still more must I regret that one so aged should have brought his
devoted head beneath the arm of justice."

Antonio smiled, and again he bent his eyes along that dazzling streak of
light which had swallowed up the gondola and the person of the Bravo.

"Father," he said, wh