irection of the Lido.
Both boats were in a wide avenue in the midst of the vessels, the usual
track of those who went to sea, and there was no object whatever between
them. By changing the course of his own boat, Don Camillo soon found
himself within an oar's length of the other. He saw, at a glance, it was
the treacherous gondola by which he had been duped.

"Draw, men, and follow!" shouted the desperate Neapolitan, preparing to
leap into the midst of his enemies.

"You draw against St. Mark!" cried a warning voice from beneath the
canopy. "The chances are unequal, Signore; for the smallest signal would
bring twenty galleys to our succor."

Don Camillo might have disregarded this menace, had he not perceived
that it caused the half-drawn rapiers of his followers to return to
their scabbards.

"Robber!" he answered, "restore her whom you have spirited away."

"Signore, you young nobles are often pleased to play your extravagances
with the servants of the Republic. Here are none but the gondoliers and
myself." A movement of the boat permitted Don Camillo to look into the
covered part, and he saw that the other uttered no more than the truth.
Convinced of the uselessness of further parley, knowing the value of
every moment, and believing he was on a track which might still lead to
success, the young Neapolitan signed to his people to go on. The boats
parted in silence, that of Don Camillo proceeding in the direction from
which the other had just come.

In a short time the gondola of Don Camillo was in an open part of the
Giudecca, and entirely beyond the tiers of the shipping. It was so late
that the moon had begun to fall, and its light was cast obliquely on the
bay, throwing the eastern sides of the buildings and the other objects
into shadow. A dozen different vessels were seen, aided by the
land-breeze, steering towards the entrance of the port. The rays of the
moon fell upon the broad surface of those sides of their canvas which
were nearest to the town, and they resembled so many spotless clouds,
sweeping the water and floating seaward.

"They are sending my wife to Dalmatia!" cried Don Camillo, like a man
on whom the truth began to dawn.

"Signore mio!" exclaimed the astonished Gino.

"I tell thee, sirrah, that this accursed Senate hath plotted against my
happiness, and having robbed me of thy mistress, hath employed one of
the many feluccas that I see, to transport her to some of its
strongholds on the