"
The fisherman threw a wistful glance at the viands, for hunger was
making powerful appeals to the weakness of nature, but his hand did not
relinquish its hold of the line, with which he still continued to angle.
"And these are thy gifts, Jacopo?" he asked, in a voice that, spite of
his resignation, betrayed the longings of appetite.
"Antonio, they are the offerings of one who respects thy courage and
honors thy nature."
"Bought with his earnings?"
"Can it be otherwise? I am no beggar for the love of the saints, and few
in Venice give unasked. Eat, then, without fear; seldom wilt thou be
more welcome."
"Take them away, Jacopo, if thou lovest me. Do not tempt me beyond what
I can bear."
"How! art thou commanded to a penance?" hastily exclaimed the other.
"Not so--not so. It is long since I have found leisure or heart for the
confessional."
"Then why refuse the gift of a friend? Remember thy years and
necessities."
"I cannot feed on the price of blood!"
The hand of the Bravo was withdrawn as if repelled by an electric touch.
The action caused the rays of the moon to fall athwart his kindling eye,
and firm as Antonio was in honesty and principle, he felt the blood
creep to his heart as he encountered the fierce and sudden glance of his
companion. A long pause succeeded, during which the fisherman diligently
plied his line, though utterly regardless of the object for which it had
been cast.
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