her eye by their red caps
and bare limbs. Her smile was like that which the imagination would
bestow on the blessed, in their intercourse of love.

"Venetians!" she said, "I cannot blame you; ye are here to witness the
death of one whom ye believe unfit to live----"

"The murderer of old Antonio!" muttered several of the group.

"Aye, even the murderer of that aged and excellent man. But when you
hear the truth, when you come to know that he whom you have believed an
assassin, was a pious child, a faithful servant of the Republic, a
gentle gondolier, and a true heart, you will change your bloody purpose
for a wish for justice."

A common murmur drowned her voice, which was so trembling and low as to
need deep stillness to render the words audible. The Carmelite had
advanced to her side, and he motioned earnestly for silence.

"Hear her, men of the Lagunes!" he said; "she utters holy truth."

"This reverend and pious monk, with Heaven, is my witness. When you
shall know Carlo better, and have heard his tale, ye will be the first
to cry out for his release. I tell you this, that when the Doge shall
appear at yon window and make the signal of mercy, you need not be
angry, and believe that your class has been wronged. Poor Carlo----"

"The girl raves!" interrupted the moody fishermen. "Here is no Carlo,
but Jacopo Frontoni, a common bravo."

Gelsomina smiled, in the security of the innocent, and regaining her
breath, which nervous agitation still disturbed, she resumed--

"Carlo or Jacopo--Jacopo or Carlo--it matters little."

"Ha! There is a sign from the palace!" shouted the Carmelite,
stretching both his arms in that direction, as if to grasp a boon. The
clarions sounded, and another wave stirred the multitude. Gelsomina
uttered a cry of delight, and turned to throw herself upon the bosom of
the reprieved. The axe glittered before her eyes, and the head of Jacopo
rolled upon the stones, as if to meet her. A general movement in the
living mass denoted the end.

The Dalmatians wheeled into column, the Sbirri pushed aside the throng
on their way to their haunts; the water of the bay was dashed upon the
flags; the clotted saw-dust was gathered; the head and trunk, block,
basket, axe, and executioner disappeared, and the crowd circulated
around the fatal spot.

During this horrible and brief moment neither Father Anselmo nor
Gelsomina moved. All was over, and still the entire scene appeared to be
delusion.

"T