under easy sail
by the very inlet through which the gondola made its way into the
Adriatic. The water was smooth, the breeze fresh from the land, and in
short all things were favorable to the fugitives. Donna Violetta and her
governess were leaning against a mast, watching with impatient eyes the
distant domes and the midnight beauty of Venice. Occasionally strains of
music came to their ears from the canals, and then a touch of natural
melancholy crossed the feelings of the former as she feared they might
be the last sounds of that nature she should ever hear from her native
town. But unalloyed pleasure drove every regret from her mind when Don
Camillo leaped from the gondola and folded her in triumph to his heart.

There was little difficulty in persuading Stefano Milano to abandon for
ever the service of the Senate for that of his feudal lord. The promises
and commands of the latter were sufficient of themselves to reconcile
him to the change, and all were convinced there was no time to lose. The
felucca soon spread her canvas to the wind and slid away from the beach.
Jacopo permitted his gondola to be towed a league to sea before he
prepared to re-enter it.

"You will steer for Ancona, Signor Don Camillo," said the Bravo, leaning
on the felucca's side, still unwilling to depart, "and throw yourself at
once under the protection of the Cardinal Secretary. If Stefano keep the
sea he may chance to meet the galleys of the Senate."

"Distrust us not--but thou, my excellent Jacopo--what wilt thou become
in their hands?"

"Fear not for me, Signore. God disposes of all as he sees fit. I have
told your eccellenza that I cannot yet quit Venice. If fortune favor me,
I may still see your stout castle of Sant' Agata."

"And none will be more welcome within its secure walls; I have much fear
for thee, Jacopo!"

"Signore, think not of it. I am used to danger--and to misery--and to
hopelessness. I have known a pleasure this night, in witnessing the
happiness of two young hearts, that God, in his anger, has long denied
me. Lady, the Saints keep you, and God, who is above all, shield you
from harm!"

He kissed the hand of Donna Violetta, who, half ignorant still of his
services, listened to his words in wonder.

"Don Camillo Monforte," he continued, "distrust Venice to your dying
day. Let no promises--no hopes--no desire of increasing your honors or
your riches, ever tempt you to put yourself in her power. None know the
fals