“They need never tell me again that the Austrians are tyrants,” said Mrs. Vervain in undertone to the consul. It was not easy for Ferris to remind his host of the malefactors; but he brought himself to this ungraciousness. The commissary begged pardon, and asked him to accompany him below, where he confronted the accused and the accusers. The tragedy was acted over again with blood-curdling effectiveness by the Chiozzotti; the gondoliers maintaining the calm of conscious innocence. Ferris felt outraged by the trumped-up charge against them. “Listen, you others the prisoners,” said the commissary. “Your padrone is anxious to return to Venice, and I wish to inflict no further displeasures upon him. Restore their rope to these honest men, and go about your business.” The injured gondoliers spoke in low tones together; then one of them shrugged his shoulders and went out. He came back in a moment and laid a rope before the commissary. “Is that the rope?” he asked. “We found it floating down the canal, and picked it up that we might give it to the rightful owner. But now I wish to heaven we had let it sink to the bottom of the sea.” “Oh, a beautiful story!” wailed the Chiozzoti. They flung themselves upon the rope, and lugged it off to their boat; and the gondoliers went out, too. The commissary turned to Ferris with an amiable smile. “I am sorry that those rogues should escape,” said the American. “Oh,” said the Italian, “they are poor fellows it is a little matter; I am glad to have served you.” He took leave of his involuntary guests with effusion, following them with a lantern to the gondola. Mrs. Vervain, to whom Ferris gave an account of this trial as they set out again on their long-hindered return, had no mind save for the magical effect of his consular quality upon the commissary, and accused him of a vain and culpable modesty. “Ah,” said the diplomatist, “there’s nothing like knowing just when to produce your dignity. There are some officials who know too little,--like those guards; and there are some who know too much,--like the commissary’s superiors. But he is just in that golden mean of ignorance where he supposes a consul is a person of importance.” Mrs. Vervain disputed this, and Ferris submitted in silence. Presently, as they skirted the shore to get their bearings for the route across the lagoon, a fierce voice in Venetian shouted from the darkness, “Indrio, indrio!” (Back, back!) and a gleam of the moon through the pale, watery clouds revealed the figure of a gendarme on the nearest point of land. The gondoliers bent to their oars, and sent the boat swiftly out into the lagoon.