Blackwoods Edinburgh Magazine | Page 8

interior of the gondola.
In the district of Castello, through which Antonio and his strange

companion were now passing, the canals and quays were deserted, and
not a sound was heard except the distant hum of the multitude
assembled in the quarter of St Mark's. Without exciting suspicion or
attracting observation, they reached the Rialto and the grand canal, and
the gondola stopped at a landing-place opposite the church of San
Moyses.
As the young painter assisted his mysterious charge out of the boat, a
gentle pressure from the warm soft hand which for a moment rested
upon his, quickened every pulse in his frame; and long after the
enigmatical being had disappeared behind the angle of a palace, he
stood gazing, like one entranced, at the spot where he had last seen her
imposing and graceful figure. The approach of Jacopo, still crossing
himself, and calling upon all the saints for protection against the snares
of the evil one, roused the perplexed youth from his reverie; and,
stepping into the gondola, he was soon gliding rapidly over the canals
in the direction of his father's palace.

CHAPTER II
.
THE PICTURE.
The gondola of the young painter, gliding rapidly and silently over the
still waters of the canals, was passing a turn leading to the Giudecca,
when it suddenly occurred to Antonio that he would seek his old master,
and, after confessing his disobedience, relate to him the events of the
day, and make him the confidant of his troubles and perplexities. A
word to Jacopo changed the direction of the gondola, and they entered
the grand canal, on which Contarini's dwelling was situated.
The brief twilight of Italy had passed, and it was now completely night,
dark and starless, which made more startling the sudden appearance of
several blazing torches, borne by masked and hooded figures attired in
black, who struck loud and repeated blows on the gates of the Palazzo
Contarini.
"Antonio Marcello! We seek Antonio Marcello!" exclaimed a deep and
hollow voice.
It would be necessary to be a Venetian, and to have lived in those days,
fully to comprehend the feeling of horror which caused Antonio's blood

to run cold, and the sweat to stand in beads upon his forehead, when he
heard his name uttered by the familiars of the state Inquisition.
Frightful dungeons, masked judges, halls hung with black, the block
and the gleaming axe, the rack and its blood-stained attendants, the
whole grim paraphernalia of the Secret Tribunal, passed like the scenes
of a phantasmagoria before the mental vision of the young painter. He
at once conjectured the cause for which they were seeking him. He had
doubtless been taken for the youth who, by his energy and promptitude,
had rescued the mysterious old woman from the mob, and who bore so
striking and unaccountable resemblance to himself; and it must be on
suspicion of his being connected with the attack on the Malipieri palace,
that the ministers of justice were hunting him out. Nor did he see how
he should he able to convince his judges of his innocence. The tale he
had to tell, although the truth, was still too marvellous and improbable
to obtain credence, and would be more likely to draw upon him severe
punishment, or perhaps the torture, with the view of inducing him to
confess its falsehood. Bewildered by his terror, Antonio sat trembling,
and utterly incapable of deciding as to the course he should adopt,
when the trusty gondolier again came to his rescue.
"Cospetto! Signor!" he exclaimed, "have you lost your senses, that you
run thus into the very jaws of those devil's messengers? To one like
myself flight would certainly avail little; but, with a Proveditore for
your father, you may arrange matters if you only take time before you
become their prisoner. Quick, then, to the palazzo! Don't you see old
Contarini's head stuck out of his window? He is telling them you are
not there. They have doubtless been to your father's palace, and will not
be likely to return thither at present."
While the faithful fellow's tongue was thus wagging, his arms were not
idle. Intimately acquainted, as became his calling, with the numerous
windings and intricacies of the Venetian canals, he threaded them with
unhesitating confidence; and, favoured by the darkness of the night,
succeeded in getting Antonio unobserved through a back entrance of
his father's palace.
The first impulse of the terrified youth on finding himself thus in at
least temporary security, was to destroy the picture of the mysterious
old woman, which, if found by the agents of the Inquisition, might bear
false but fatal witness against him. With pallid cheek, and still

trembling with alarm, he was hurrying to his chamber to execute his
intention, when he encountered