"You speak nothing but truths, Signor Frontoni, which is little remarkable considering thy opportunities of looking into the motives of men. There is little in my face to pay you for the trouble of casting a glance at it. I would as lief do as others in this gay season, if it be equally agreeable to you." "Do as thou wilt; but I pray thee to give me the same permission." "There are few so bold as to dispute thy pleasure, Signore." "It is, to be alone." "Cospetto! There is not a man in Venice who would more gladly consult it, if my master's errand were fairly done!" muttered Gino, between his teeth. "I have here a packet, which it is my duty to put into your hands, Signore, and into those of no other." "I know thee not--thou hast a name?" "Not in the sense in which you speak, Signore. As to that sort of reputation I am as nameless as a foundling." "If thy master is of no more note than thyself the packet may be returned." "There are few within the dominions of St. Mark of better lineage or of fairer hopes than the Duke of Sant' Agata." The cold expression of the Bravo's countenance changed. "If thou comest from Don Camillo Monforte, why dost thou hesitate to proclaim it? Where are his requests?" "I know not whether it is his pleasure or that of another which this paper contains, but such as it is, Signor Jacopo, my duty commands me to deliver it to thee." The packet was received calmly, though the organ which glanced at its seal and its superscription, gleamed with an expression which the credulous gondolier fancied to resemble that of the tiger at the sight of blood. "Thou said'st something of a ring. Dost thou bear thy master's signet? I am much accustomed to see pledges ere I give faith." "Blessed San Teodore grant that I did! Were it as heavy as a skin of wine, I would willingly bear the load; but one that I mistook for you, Master Jacopo, has it on his own light finger, I fear." "This is an affair that thou wilt settle with thy master," returned the Bravo, coldly, again examining the impression of the seal. "If you are acquainted with the writing of my master," hurriedly remarked Gino, who trembled for the fate of the packet, "you will see his skill in the turn of those letters. There are few nobles in Venice, or indeed in the Sicilies, who have a more scholarly hand, with a quill, than Don Camillo Monforte; I could not do the thing half so well myself." "I am no clerk," observed the Bravo, without betraying shame at the confession. "The art of deciphering a scroll, like this, was never taught me; if thou art so expert in the skill of a penman, tell me the name the packet bears." "'Twould little become me to breathe a syllable concerning any of my master's secrets," returned the gondolier, drawing himself up in sudden reserve. "It is enough that he bid me deliver the letter; after which I should think it presumption even to whisper more."