y of the Calabrian, has just been related.

Jacopo had no sooner touched the quay and secured his boat, than he
hastened again to the Broglio. It was now filled by maskers and the
idlers of the Piazzetta. The patricians had withdrawn to the scenes of
their own pleasures, or, in furtherance of that system of mysterious
sway which it was their policy to maintain, they did not choose to
remain exposed to the common eye, during the hours of license which were
about to follow.

It would seem that Jacopo had his instructions, for no sooner did he
make sure that Don Camillo had retired, than he threaded the throng with
the air of a man whose course was decided. By this time, both the
squares were full, and at least half of those who spent the night in
those places of amusement, were masked. The step of the Bravo, though so
unhesitating, was leisurely, and he found time, in passing up the
Piazzetta, to examine the forms, and, when circumstances permitted, the
features of all he met. He proceeded, in this manner, to the point of
junction between the two squares, when his elbow was touched by a light
hand.

Jacopo was not accustomed, unnecessarily, to trust his voice in the
square of St. Mark, and at that hour. But his look of inquiry was
returned by a sign to follow. He had been stopped by one whose figure
was so completely concealed by a domino, as to baffle all conjecture
concerning his true character. Perceiving, however, that the other
wished to lead him to a part of the square that was vacant, and which
was directly on the course he was about to pursue, the Bravo made a
gesture of compliance and followed. No sooner were the two apart from
the pressure of the crowd, and in a place where no eaves-dropper could
overhear their discourse without detection, than the stranger stopped.
He appeared to examine the person, stature, and dress of Jacopo, from
beneath his mask, with singular caution, closing the whole with a sign
that meant recognition. Jacopo returned his dumb show, but maintained a
rigid silence.

"Just Daniel!" muttered the stranger, when he found that his companion
was not disposed to speak; "one would think, illustrious Signore, that
your confessor had imposed a penance of silence, by the manner in which
you refuse to speak to your servant."

"What would'st thou?"

"Here am I, sent into the piazza, among knights of industry, valets,
gondoliers, and all other manner of revellers that adorn this Christian
land