"
"Quick, lift thy anchor, old man, and depart, my eye is sure. I know the
boat."
"Poor Jacopo! what a curse is a tender conscience! Thou hast been kind
to me in my need, and if prayers from a sincere heart can do thee
service, thou shalt not want them."
"Antonio!" cried the other, causing his boat to whirl away, and then
pausing an instant like a man undecided--"I can stay no longer--trust
them not--they are false as fiends--there is no time to lose--I must
away."
The fisherman murmured an ejaculation of pity, as he waved a hand in
adieu.
"Holy St. Anthony, watch over my own child, lest he come to some such
miserable life!" he added, in an audible prayer--"There hath been good
seed cast on a rock, in that youth, for a warmer or kinder heart is not
in man. That one like Jacopo should live by striking the assassin's
blow!"
The near approach of the strange gondola now attracted the whole
attention of the old man. It came swiftly towards him, impelled by six
strong oars, and his eye turned feverishly in the direction of the
fugitive. Jacopo, with a readiness that necessity and long practice
rendered nearly instinctive, had taken a direction which blended his
wake in a line with one of those bright streaks that the moon drew on
the water, and which, by dazzling the eye, effectually concealed the
objects within its width. When the fisherman saw that the Bravo had
disappeared, he smiled and seemed at ease.
Pages:
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270