On the present occasion there were the same robes,
the same disguises, and the same officers of the inquisition, as in the
scene related in a previous chapter. The only change was in the
character of the judges, and in that of the accused. By a peculiar
arrangement of the lamp, too, most of the light was thrown upon the spot
it was intended the prisoner should occupy, while the side of the
apartment on which the inquisitors sat, was left in a dimness that well
accorded with their gloomy and secret duties. Previously to the opening
of the door by which the person to be examined was to appear, there was
audible the clanking of chains, the certain evidence that the affair in
hand was considered serious. The hinges turned, and the Bravo stood in
presence of those unknown men who were to decide on his fate.
As Jacopo had often been before the council, though not as a prisoner,
he betrayed neither surprise nor alarm at the black aspect of all his
eye beheld. His features were composed, though pale, his limbs
immovable, and his mien decent. When the little bustle of his entrance
had subsided, there reigned a stillness in the room.
"Thou art called Jacopo Frontoni?" said the secretary, who acted as the
mouth-piece of the Three, on this occasion.
"I am."
"Thou art the son of a certain Ricardo Frontoni, a man well known as
having been concerned in robbing the Republic's customs, and who is
thought to have been banished to the distant islands, or to be otherwise
punished?"
"Signore--or otherwise punished.
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