Antonio, who had fastened his line to his seat, and disposed of his net with habitual care, now crossed himself devoutly, and took his station before the Carmelite. His acknowledgments of error then began. Much mental misery clothed the language and ideas of the fisherman with a dignity that his auditor had not been accustomed to find in men of his class. A spirit so long chastened by suffering had become elevated and noble. He related his hopes for the boy, the manner in which they had been blasted by the unjust and selfish policy of the state, his different efforts to procure the release of his grandson, and his bold expedients at the regatta, and the fancied nuptials with the Adriatic. When he had thus prepared the Carmelite to understand the origin of his sinful passions, which it was now his duty to expose, he spoke of those passions themselves, and of their influence on a mind that was ordinarily at peace with mankind. The tale was told simply and without reserve, but in a manner to inspire respect, and to awaken powerful sympathy in him who heard it. "And these feelings thou didst indulge against the honored and powerful of Venice!" demanded the monk, affecting a severity he could not feel. "Before my God do I confess the sin! In bitterness of heart I cursed them; for to me they seemed men without feeling for the poor, and heartless as the marbles of their own palaces." "Thou knowest that to be forgiven, thou must forgive. Dost thou, at peace with all of earth, forget this wrong, and can'st thou, in charity with thy fellows, pray to Him who died for the race, in behalf of those who have injured thee?" Antonio bowed his head on his naked breast, and he seemed to commune with his soul. "Father," he said, in a rebuked tone, "I hope I do." "Thou must not trifle with thyself to thine own perdition. There is an eye in yon vault above us which pervades space, and which looks into the inmost secrets of the heart. Can'st thou pardon the error of the patricians in a contrite spirit for thine own sins?" "Holy Maria pray for them, as I now ask mercy in their behalf! Father, they are forgiven." "Amen!" The Carmelite arose and stood over the kneeling Antonio with the whole of his benevolent countenance illuminated by the moon. Stretching his arms towards the stars, he pronounced the absolution in a voice that was touched with pious fervor. The upward expectant eye, with the withered lineaments of the fisherman, and the holy calm of the monk, formed a picture of resignation and hope that angels would have loved to witness. "Amen! amen!" exclaimed Antonio, as he arose crossing himself; "St. Anthony and the Virgin aid me to keep these resolutions!" "I will not forget thee, my son, in the offices of holy church. Receive my benediction, that I may depart."