"
The _bravo_ sought to join in the jest.
"Had they known it was the Prince of Iseo, it had been a hundred
thousand, Excellency."
Fra Giovanni did not listen to him. His quick brain was solving a
strange problem--the problem of the price that these people, in their
turn, should pay to Venice. When he had solved it, he turned to the
cringing figure at his feet.
"Signor Rocca," he said, "do you know of what I am thinking?"
"Of mercy, Excellency; of mercy for one who has not deserved it."
"But who can deserve it?"
"Excellency, hearken to me. I swear by all the saints--"
"In whose name you blaspheme, rascal. Have I not heard your oath in
Naples when the irons seared your flesh? Shall I listen again when the
fire is being made ready, and there is burning coal beneath the bed
you will lie upon to-night, Signor Rocca?"
"Oh! for God's sake, Excellency!"
"Not so; for the sake of Venice, rather."
"I will be your slave--I swear it on the cross--I will give my life--"
"Your precious life, Signor Rocca!--nay, what a profligate you are!"
Fra Giovanni's tone, perhaps, betrayed him. The trembling man began to
take heart a little.
"Prove me Excellency," he whined; "prove me here and now."
The friar made a pretence of debating it. After a little spell of
silence he bade the other rise.
"Come," he said, "your legs catch cold, my friend, and will burn
slowly. Stretch them here upon the Campo while I ask you some
questions. And remember, for every lie you tell me there shall be
another wedge in the boot you are about to wear.
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