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aloud. "I am called away, and cannot meet thee, Jacopo!" At the name of
Jacopo, the tradesman dropped the paper and fled.

The Bravo walked slowly back again towards the quay, ruminating on the
awkward accident which had crossed his plans; his elbow was touched, and
a masker confronted him when he turned.

"Thou art Jacopo Frontoni?" said the stranger.

"None else."

"Thou hast a hand to serve an employer faithfully?"

"I keep my faith."

"'Tis well, thou wilt find a hundred sequins in this sack."

"Whose life is set against this gold?" asked Jacopo, in an under tone.

"Don Camillo Monforte."

"Don Camillo Monforte!"

"The same; dost thou know the rich noble!"

"You have well described him, Signore. He would pay his barber this for
letting blood."

"Do thy job thoroughly, and the price shall be doubled."

"I want the security of a name. I know you not, Signore."

The stranger looked cautiously around him, and raising his mask for an
instant, he showed the countenance of Giacomo Gradenigo.

"Is the pledge sufficient?"

"Signore, it is. When must this deed be done?"

"This night. Nay, this hour, even."

"Shall I strike a noble of his rank in his palace--in his very
pleasures?"

"Come hither, Jacopo, and thou shalt know more. Hast thou a mask?"

The Bravo signified his assent.

"Then keep thy face behind a cloud, for it is not in favor here, and
seek thy boat. I will join thee."

The young patrician, whose form was effectually concealed by his attire,
quitted his companion, with a view of rejoining him anew, where his
person should not be known. Jacopo forced his boat from among the crowd
at the quay, and having entered the open space between the tiers, he lay
on his oar, well knowing that he was watched, and that he would soon be
followed. His conjecture was right, for in a few moments a gondola
pulled swiftly to the side of his own, and two men in masks passed from
the strange boat into that of the Bravo, without speaking.

"To the Lido," said a voice, which Jacopo knew to be that of his new
employer.

He was obeyed, the boat of Giacomo Gradenigo following at a little
distance. When they were without the tiers, and consequently beyond the
danger of being overheard, the two passengers came out of the pavilion,
and made a sign to the Bravo to cease rowing.

"Thou wilt accept the service, Jacopo Frontoni?" demanded the profligate
heir of the old senator.

"Shall I strike the noble