a thousand of these in the square as one side of the
campanile is like the other?"

"Thy picture is so well drawn that one cannot fail to know the original.
He stands beside thee."

Gino wheeled suddenly, and saw that a grinning harlequin was playing his
antics in the place where he had expected to find the stranger.

"And thy eyes, bella contadina, are as dull as a mole's."

He ceased speaking; for, deceived in his person, she who had saluted him
was no longer visible. In this manner did the disappointed gondolier
thread his way towards the water, now answering to the boisterous salute
of some clown, and now repelling the advances of females less disguised
than the pretended contadina, until he gained a space near the quays,
where there was more room for observation. Here he paused, undetermined
whether to return and confess his indiscretion to his master, or whether
he should make still another effort to regain the ring which had been so
sillily lost. The vacant space between the two granite columns was left
to the quiet possession of himself and one other, who stood near the
base of that which sustained the lion of St. Mark, as motionless as if
he too were merely a form of stone. Two or three stragglers, either led
by idle curiosity or expecting to meet one appointed to await their
coming, drew near this immovable man, but all glided away, as if there
were repulsion in his marble-like countenance. Gino had witnessed
several instances of this evident dislike to remain near the unknown
figure, ere he felt induced to cross the space between them, in order to
inquire into its cause. A slow movement at the sound of his footsteps,
brought the rays of the moon full upon the calm countenance and
searching eye of the very man he sought.

The first impulse of the gondolier, like that of all the others he had
seen approach the spot, was to retreat; but the recollection of his
errand and his loss came in season to prevent such an exhibition of his
disgust and alarm. Still he did not speak; but he met the riveted gaze
of the Bravo with a look that denoted, equally, confusion of intellect
and a half-settled purpose.

"Would'st thou aught with me?" demanded Jacopo, when the gaze of each
had continued beyond the term of accidental glances.

"My master's signet."

"I know thee not."

"That image of San Teodoro could testify that this is holy truth, if it
would but speak! I have not the honor of your friendship, Signor Jacop