This is the story that, in the dining-room of the old Beacon Streethouse (now the Aldebaran Club), Judge Anthony Bracknell, of the famousEast India firm of Bracknell & Saulsbee, when the ladies had withdrawnto the oval parlour (and Maria's harp was throwing its gauzy web ofsound across the Common), used to relate to his grandsons, about theyear that Buonaparte marched upon Moscow.I"Him Venice!" said the Lascar with the big earrings; and Tony Bracknell,leaning on the high gunwale of his father's East Indiaman, the HepzibahB., saw far off, across the morning sea, a faint vision of towers anddomes dissolved in golden air.It was a rare February day of the year 1760, and a young Tony,newly of age, and bound on the grand tour aboard the crack merchantmanof old Bracknell's fleet, felt his heart leap up as the distant citytrembled into shape. Venice! The name, since childhood, had been amagician's wand to him. In the hall of the old Bracknell house at Salemthere hung a series of yellowing prints which Uncle Richard Saulsbee hadbrought home from one of his long voyages: views of heathen mosques andpalaces, of the Grand Turk's Seraglio, of St. Peter's Church in Rome;and, in a corner -- the corner nearest the rack where the old flintlockshung -- a busy merry populous scene, entitled: ST. MARK'S SQUARE INVENICE. This picture, from the first, had singularly taken little Tony'sfancy. His unformulated criticism on the others was that they lackedaction. True, in the view of St. Peter's an experienced-lookinggentleman in a full-bottomed wig was pointing out the fairly obviousmonument to a bashful companion, who had presumably not ventured toraise his eyes to it; while, at the doors of the Seraglio, a group ofturbaned infidels observed with less hesitancy the approach of a veiledlady on a camel. But in Venice so many things were happening at once --more, Tony was sure, than had ever happened in Boston in a twelve-monthor in Salem in a long lifetime. For here, by their garb, were people ofevery nation on earth, Chinamen, Turks, Spaniards, and many more, mixedwith a parti-coloured throng of gentry, lacqueys, chapmen, hucksters,and tall personages in parsons' gowns who stalked through the crowd withan air of mastery, a string of parasites at their heels. And all thesepeople seemed to be diverting themselves hugely, chaffering with thehucksters, watching the antics of trained dogs and monkeys, distributingdoles to maimed beggars or having their pockets picked byslippery-looking fellows in black -- the whole with such an air of easeand good-humour that one felt the cut-purses to be as much a part of theshow as the tumbling acrobats and animals.As Tony advanced in years and experience this childish mumming lostits magic; but not so the early imaginings it had excited. For the oldpicture had been but the spring-board of fancy, the first step of acloud-ladder leading to a land of dreams. With these dreams the name ofVenice remained associated; and all that observation or reportsubsequently brought him concerning the place seemed, on a soberwarranty of fact, to confirm its claim to stand midway between realityand illusion. There was, for instance, a slender Venice glass,gold-powdered as with lilypollen or the dust of sunbeams, that, standingin the corner cabinet betwixt two Lowestoft caddies, seemed, among itslifeless neighbours, to palpitate like an impaled butterfly. There was,farther, a gold chain of his mother's, spun of that same sunpollen, sothread-like, impalpable, that it slipped through the fingers like light,yet so strong that it carried a heavy pendant which seemed held in airas if by magic. Magic! That was the word which the thought of Veniceevoked. It was the kind of place, Tony felt, in which things elsewhereimpossible might naturally happen, in which two and two might make five,a paradox elope with a syllogism, and a conclusion give the lie to itsown premiss. Was there ever a young heart that did not, once and again,long to get away into such a world as that? Tony, at least, had felt thelonging from the first hour when the axioms in his horn-book had broughthome to him his heavy responsibilities as a Christian and a sinner. Andnow here was his wish taking shape before him, as the distant haze ofgold shaped itself into towers and domes across the morning sea!The Reverend Ozias Mounce, Tony's governor and bear-leader, wasjust putting a hand to the third clause of the fourth part of a sermonon Free-Will and Predestination as the Hepzibah B.'s anchor rattledoverboard. Tony, in his haste to be ashore, would have made one plungewith the anchor; but the Reverend Ozias, on being roused from hislucubrations, earnestly protested against leaving his argument insuspense. What was the trifle of an arrival at some Papistical foreigncity, where the very churches wore turbans like so many Moslemidolators, to the important fact of Mr. Mounce's summing up hisconclusions before the Muse of Theology took flight? He should be happy,he said, if the tide served, to visit Venice with Mr. Bracknell the nextmorning.The next morning, ha! -- Tony murmured a submissive "Yes, sir,"winked at the subjugated captain, buckled on his sword, pressed his hatdown with a flourish, and before the Reverend Ozias had arrived at hisnext deduction, was skimming merrily shoreward in the Hepzibah's gig.A moment more and he was in the thick of it! Here was the veryworld of the old print, only suffused with sunlight and colour, andbubbling with merry noises. What a scene it was! A square enclosed infantastic painted buildings, and peopled with a throng as fantastic: abawling, laughing, jostling, sweating mob, parti-coloured,parti-speeched, crackling and sputtering under the hot sun like a dishof fritters over a kitchen fire. Tony, agape, shouldered his way throughthe press, aware at once that, spite of the tumult, the shrillness, thegesticulation, there was no undercurrent of clownishness, no tendency tohorse-play, as in such crowds on market-day at home, but a kind offacetious suavity which seemed to include everybody in the circumferenceof one huge joke. In such an air the sense of strangeness soon wore off,and Tony was beginning to feel himself vastly at home, when a lift ofthe tide bore him against a droll-looking bell-ringing fellow whocarried above his head a tall metal tree hung with sherbet-glasses.The encounter set the glasses spinning and three or four spun offand clattered to the stones. The sherbet-seller called on all thesaints, and Tony, clapping a lordly hand to his pocket, tossed him aducat by mistake for a sequin. The fellow's eyes shot out of theirorbits, and just then a personable-looking young man who had observedthe transaction stepped up to Tony and said pleasantly, in English:"I perceive, sir, that you are not familiar with our currency.""Does he want more?" says Tony, very lordly; whereat the otherlaughed and replied: "You have given him enough to retire from hisbusiness and open a gaming-house over the arcade."Tony joined in the laugh, and this incident bridging thepreliminaries, the two young men were presently hobnobbing over a glassof Canary in front of one of the coffee-houses about the square. Tonycounted himself lucky to have run across an English-speaking companionwho was good-natured enough to give him a clue to the labyrinth; andwhen he had paid for the Canary (in the coin his friend selected) theyset out again to view the town. The Italian gentleman, who calledhimself Count Rialto, appeared to have a very numerous acquaintance, andwas able to point out to Tony all the chief dignitaries of the state,the men of ton and ladies of fashion, as well as a number of othercharacters of a kind not openly mentioned in taking a census of Salem.Tony, who was not averse from reading when nothing better offered,had perused the "Merchant of Venice" and Mr. Otway's fine tragedy; butthough these pieces had given him a notion that the social usages ofVenice differed from those at home, he was unprepared for the surprisingappearance and manners of the great people his friend named to him. Thegravest Senators of the Republic went in prodigious striped trousers,short cloaks and feathered hats. One nobleman wore a ruff and doctor'sgown, another a black velvet tunic slashed with rose-colour; while thePresident of the dreaded Council of Ten was a terrible strutting fellowwith a rapier-like nose, a buff leather jerkin and a trailing scarletcloak that the crowd was careful not to step on.It was all vastly diverting, and Tony would gladly have gone onforever; but he had given his word to the captain to be at thelanding-place at sunset, and here was dusk already creeping over theskies! Tony was a man of honour; and having pressed on the Count ahandsome damascened dagger selected from one of the goldsmiths' shops ina narrow street lined with such wares, he insisted on turning his facetoward the Hepzibah's gig. The Count yielded reluctantly; but as theycame out again on the square they were caught in a great throng pouringtoward the doors of the cathedral."They go to Benediction," said the Count. "A beautiful sight, withmany lights and flowers. It is a pity you cannot take a peep at it."Tony thought so too, and in another minute a legless beggar hadpulled back the leathern flap of the cathedral door, and they stood in ahaze of gold and perfume that seemed to rise and fall on the mightyundulations of the organ. Here the press was as thick as without; and asTony flattened himself against a pillar, he heard a pretty voice at hiselbow: --"Oh, sir, oh, sir, your sword!"He turned at sound of the broken English, and saw a girl whomatched the voice trying to disengage her dress from the tip of hisscabbard. She wore one of the voluminous black hoods which the Venetianladies affected, and under its projecting eaves her face spied out athim as sweet as a nesting bird.In the dusk their hands met over the scabbard, and as she freedherself a shred of her lace flounce clung to Tony's enchanted fingers.Looking after her, he saw she was on the arm of a pompous-lookinggraybeard in a long black gown and scarlet stockings, who, on perceivingthe exchange of glances between the young people, drew the lady awaywith a threatening look.The Count met Tony's eye with a smile. "One of our Venetianbeauties," said he; "the lovely Polixena Cador. She is thought to havethe finest eyes in Venice.""She spoke English," stammered Tony."Oh -- ah -- precisely: she learned the language at the Court ofSaint James's, where her father, the Senator, was formerly accredited asAmbassador. She played as an infant with the royal princes of England.""And that was her father?""Assuredly: young ladies of Donna Polixena's rank do not go abroadsave with their parents or a duenna."Just then a soft hand slid into Tony's. His heart gave a foolishbound, and he turned about half-expecting to meet again the merry eyesunder the hood; but saw instead a slender brown boy, in some kind offanciful page's dress, who thrust a folded paper between his fingers andvanished in the throng. Tony, in a tingle, glanced surreptitiously atthe Count, who appeared absorbed in his prayers. The crowd, at theringing of a bell, had in fact been overswept by a sudden wave ofdevotion; and Tony seized the moment to step beneath a lighted shrinewith his letter."I am in dreadful trouble and implore your help. Polixena" -- heread; but hardly had he seized the sense of the words when a hand fellon his shoulder, and a stern-looking man in a cocked hat, and bearing akind of rod or mace, pronounced a few words in Venetian.Tony, with a start, thrust the letter in his breast, and tried tojerk himself free; but the harder he jerked the tighter grew the other'sgrip, and the Count, presently perceiving what had happened, pushed hisway through the crowd, and whispered hastily to his companion: "ForGod's sake, make no struggle. This is serious. Keep quiet and do as Itell you."Tony was no chicken-heart. He had something of a name for pugnacityamong the lads of his own age at home, and was not the man to stand inVenice what he would have resented in Salem; but the devil of it wasthat this black fellow seemed to be pointing to the letter in hisbreast; and this suspicion was confirmed by the Count's agitated whisper."This is one of the agents of the Ten. -- For God's sake, nooutcry." He exchanged a word or two with the mace-bearer and againturned to Tony. "You have been seen concealing a letter about yourperson --""And what of that?" says Tony furiously."Gently, gently, my master. A letter handed to you by the page ofDonna Polixena Cador. -- A black business! Oh, a very black business!This Cador is one of the most powerful nobles in Venice -- I beseechyou, not a word, sir! Let me think -- deliberate --"His hand on Tony's shoulder, he carried on a rapid dialogue withthe potentate in the cocked hat."I am sorry, sir -- but our young ladies of rank are as jealouslyguarded as the Grand Turk's wives, and you must be answerable for thisscandal. The best I can do is to have you taken privately to the PalazzoCador, instead of being brought before the Council. I have pleaded youryouth and inexperience" -- Tony winced at this --"and I think thebusiness may still be arranged."Meanwhile the agent of the Ten had yielded his place to asharp-featured shabby-looking fellow in black, dressed somewhat like alawyer's clerk, who laid a grimy hand on Tony's arm, and with manyapologetic gestures steered him through the crowd to the doors of thechurch. The Count held him by the other arm, and in this fashion theyemerged on the square, which now lay in darkness save for the manylights twinkling under the arcade and in the windows of the gaming-roomsabove it.Tony by this time had regained voice enough to declare that hewould go where they pleased, but that he must first say a word to themate of the Hepzibah, who had now been awaiting him some two hours ormore at the landing-place.The Count repeated this to Tony's custodian, but the latter shookhis head and rattled off a sharp denial."Impossible, sir," said the Count. "I entreat you not to insist.Any resistance will tell against you in the end."Tony fell silent. With a rapid eye he was measuring his chances ofescape. In wind and limb he was more than a mate for his captors, andboyhood's ruses were not so far behind him but he felt himself equal tooutwitting a dozen grown men; but he had the sense to see that at a crythe crowd would close in on him. Space was what he wanted: a clear tenyards, and he would have laughed at Doge and Council. But the throng wasthick as glue, and he walked on submissively, keeping his eye alert foran opening. Suddenly the mob swerved aside after some new show. Tony'sfist shot out at the black fellow's chest, and before the latter couldright himself the young New Englander was showing a clean pair of heelsto his escort. On he sped, cleaving the crowd like a flood-tide inGloucester bay, diving under the first arch that caught his eye, dashingdown a lane to an unlit waterway, and plunging across a narrow hump-backbridge which landed him in a black pocket between walls. But now hispursuers were at his back, reinforced by the yelping mob. The walls weretoo high to scale, and for all his courage Tony's breath came short ashe paced the masonry cage in which ill-luck had landed him. Suddenly agate opened in one of the walls, and a slip of a servant wench lookedout and beckoned him. There was no time to weigh chances. Tony dashedthrough the gate, his rescuer slammed and bolted it, and the two stoodin a narrow paved well between high houses.IIThe servant picked up a lantern and signed to Tony to follow her. Theyclimbed a squalid stairway of stone, felt their way along a corridor,and entered a tall vaulted room feebly lit by an oillamp hung from thepainted ceiling. Tony discerned traces of former splendour in hissurroundings, but he had no time to examine them, for a figure startedup at his approach and in the dim light he recognized the girl who wasthe cause of all his troubles.She sprang toward him with outstretched hands, but as he advancedher face changed and she shrank back abashed."This is a misunderstanding -- a dreadful misunderstanding," shecried out in her pretty broken English. "Oh, how does it happen that youare here?""Through no choice of my own, madam, I assure you!" retorted Tony,not over-pleased by his reception."But why -- how -- how did you make this unfortunate mistake?""Why, madam, if you'll excuse my candour, I think the mistake wasyours --""Mine?"--"in sending me a letter --""You -- a letter?"--"by a simpleton of a lad, who must needs hand it to me under yourfather's very nose --"The girl broke in on him with a cry. "What! It was you whoreceived my letter?" She swept round on the little maid-servant andsubmerged her under a flood of Venetian. The latter volleyed back in thesame jargon, and as she did so, Tony's astonished eye detected in herthe doubleted page who had handed him the letter in Saint Mark's."What!" he cried, "the lad was this girl in disguise?"Polixena broke off with an irrepressible smile; but her faceclouded instantly and she returned to the charge."This wicked, careless girl -- she has ruined me, she will be myundoing! Oh, sir, how can I make you understand? The letter was notintended for you -- it was meant for the English Ambassador, an oldfriend of my mother's, from whom I hoped to obtain assistance -- oh, howcan I ever excuse myself to you?""No excuses are needed, madam," said Tony, bowing; "though I amsurprised, I own, that any one should mistake me for an ambassador."Here a wave of mirth again overran Polixena's face. "Oh, sir, youmust pardon my poor girl's mistake. She heard you speaking English, and-- and -- I had told her to hand the letter to the handsomest foreignerin the church." Tony bowed again, more profoundly. "The EnglishAmbassador," Polixena added simply, "is a very handsome man.""I wish, madam, I were a better proxy!"She echoed his laugh, and then clapped her hands together with alook of anguish. "Fool that I am! How can I jest at such a moment? I amin dreadful trouble, and now perhaps I have brought trouble on you also-- Oh, my father! I hear my father coming!" She turned pale and leanedtremblingly upon the little servant.Footsteps and loud voices were in fact heard outside, and a momentlater the red-stockinged Senator stalked into the room attended byhalf-a-dozen of the magnificoes whom Tony had seen abroad in the square.At sight of him, all clapped hands to their swords and burst intofurious outcries; and though their jargon was unintelligible to theyoung man, their tones and gestures made their meaning unpleasantlyplain. The Senator, with a start of anger, first flung himself on theintruder; then, snatched back by his companions, turned wrathfully onhis daughter, who, at his feet, with outstretched arms and streamingface, pleaded her cause with all the eloquence of young distress.Meanwhile the other nobles gesticulated vehemently among themselves, andone, a truculent-looking personage in ruff and Spanish cape, stalkedapart, keeping a jealous eye on Tony. The latter was at his wit's endhow to comport himself, for the lovely Polixena's tears had quitedrowned her few words of English, and beyond guessing that themagnificoes meant him a mischief he had no notion what they would be at.At this point, luckily, his friend Count Rialto suddenly broke inon the scene, and was at once assailed by all the tongues in the room.He pulled a long face at sight of Tony, but signed to the young man tobe silent, and addressed himself earnestly to the Senator. The latter,at first, would not draw breath to hear him; but presently, sobering, hewalked apart with the Count, and the two conversed together out of earshot."My dear sir," said the Count, at length turning to Tony with aperturbed countenance, "it is as I feared, and you are fallen into agreat misfortune.""A great misfortune! A great trap, I call it!" shouted Tony, whoseblood, by this time, was boiling; but as he uttered the word thebeautiful Polixena cast such a stricken look on him that he blushed upto the forehead."Be careful," said the Count, in a low tone. "Though hisIllustriousness does not speak your language, he understands a few wordsof it, and --""So much the better!" broke in Tony; "I hope he will understand meif I ask him in plain English what is his grievance against me."The Senator, at this, would have burst forth again; but the Count,stepping between, answered quickly: "His grievance against you is thatyou have been detected in secret correspondence with his daughter, themost noble Polixena Cador, the betrothed bride of this gentleman, themost illustrious Marquess Zanipolo --" and he waved a deferential handat the frowning hidalgo of the cape and ruff."Sir," said Tony, "if that is the extent of my offence, it lieswith the young lady to set me free, since by her own avowal --" but herehe stopped short, for, to his surprise, Polixena shot a terrified glanceat him."Sir," interposed the Count, "we are not accustomed in Venice totake shelter behind a lady's reputation.""No more are we in Salem," retorted Tony in a white heat. "I wasmerely about to remark that, by the young lady's avowal, she has neverseen me before."Polixena's eyes signalled her gratitude, and he felt he would havedied to defend her.The Count translated his statement, and presently pursued: "HisIllustriousness observes that, in that case, his daughter's misconducthas been all the more reprehensible.""Her misconduct? Of what does he accuse her?""Of sending you, just now, in the church of Saint Mark's, a letterwhich you were seen to read openly and thrust in your bosom. Theincident was witnessed by his Illustriousness the Marquess Zanipolo,who, in consequence, has already repudiated his unhappy bride."Tony stared contemptuously at the black Marquess. "If hisIllustriousness is so lacking in gallantry as to repudiate a lady on sotrivial a pretext, it is he and not I who should be the object of herfather's resentment.""That, my dear young gentleman, is hardly for you to decide. Youronly excuse being your ignorance of our customs, it is scarcely for youto advise us how to behave in matters of punctilio."It seemed to Tony as though the Count were going over to hisenemies, and the thought sharpened his retort."I had supposed," said he, "that men of sense had much the samebehaviour in all countries, and that, here as elsewhere, a gentlemanwould be taken at his word. I solemnly affirm that the letter I was seento read reflects in no way on the honour of this young lady, and has infact nothing to do with what you suppose."As he had himself no notion what the letter was about, this was asfar as he dared commit himself.There was another brief consultation in the opposing camp, and theCount then said: --"We all know, sir, that a gentleman is obliged tomeet certain enquiries by a denial; but you have at your command themeans of immediately clearing the lady. Will you show the letter to herfather?"There was a perceptible pause, during which Tony, while appearingto look straight before him, managed to deflect an interrogatory glancetoward Polixena. Her reply was a faint negative motion, accompanied byunmistakable signs of apprehension."Poor girl!" he thought, "she is in a worse case than I imagined,and whatever happens I must keep her secret."He turned to the Senator with a deep bow. "I am not," said he, "inthe habit of showing my private correspondence to strangers."The Count interpreted these words, and Donna Polixena's father,dashing his hand on his hilt, broke into furious invective, while theMarquess continued to nurse his outraged feelings aloof.The Count shook his head funereally. "Alas, sir, it is as I feared.This is not the first time that youth and propinquity have led to fatalimprudence. But I need hardly, I suppose, point out the obligationincumbent upon you as a man of honour."Tony stared at him haughtily, with a look which was meant for theMarquess. "And what obligation is that?""To repair the wrong you have done -- in other words, to marry thelady."Polixena at this burst into tears, and Tony said to himself: "Whyin heaven does she not bid me show the letter?" Then he remembered thatit had no superscription, and that the words it contained, supposingthem to have been addressed to himself, were hardly of a nature todisarm suspicion. The sense of the girl's grave plight effaced allthought of his own risk, but the Count's last words struck him as sopreposterous that he could not repress a smile."I cannot flatter myself," said he, "that the lady would welcomethis solution."The Count's manner became increasingly ceremonious. "Such modesty,"he said, "becomes your youth and inexperience; but even if it werejustified it would scarcely alter the case, as it is always assumed inthis country that a young lady wishes to marry the man whom her fatherhas selected.""But I understood just now," Tony interposed, "that the gentlemanyonder was in that enviable position.""So he was, till circumstances obliged him to waive the privilegein your favour.""He does me too much honour; but if a deep sense of my unworthinessobliges me to decline --""You are still," interrupted the Count, "labouring under amisapprehension. Your choice in the matter is no more to be consultedthan the lady's. Not to put too fine a point on it, it is necessary thatyou should marry her within the hour."Tony, at this, for all his spirit, felt the blood run thin in hisveins. He looked in silence at the threatening visages between himselfand the door, stole a side-glance at the high barred windows of theapartment, and then turned to Polixena, who had fallen sobbing at herfather's feet."And if I refuse?" said he.The Count made a significant gesture. "I am not so foolish as tothreaten a man of your mettle. But perhaps you are unaware what theconsequences would be to the lady."Polixena, at this, struggling to her feet, addressed a fewimpassioned words to the Count and her father; but the latter put heraside with an obdurate gesture.The Count turned to Tony. "The lady herself pleads for you -- atwhat cost you do not guess -- but as you see it is vain. In an hour hisIllustriousness's chaplain will be here. Meanwhile his Illustriousnessconsents to leave you in the custody of your betrothed."He stepped back, and the other gentlemen, bowing with deep ceremonyto Tony, stalked out one by one from the room. Tony heard the key turnin the lock, and found himself alone with Polixena.IIIThe girl had sunk into a chair, her face hidden, a picture of shame andagony. So moving was the sight that Tony once again forgot his ownextremity in the view of her distress. He went and kneeled beside her,drawing her hands from her face."Oh, don't make me look at you!" she sobbed; but it was on hisbosom that she hid from his gaze. He held her there a breathingspace, ashe might have clasped a weeping child; then she drew back and put himgently from her."What humiliation!" she lamented."Do you think I blame you for what has happened?""Alas, was it not my foolish letter that brought you to thisplight? And how nobly you defended me! How generous it was of you not toshow the letter! If my father knew I had written to the Ambassador tosave me from this dreadful marriage his anger against me would be evengreater.""Ah -- it was that you wrote for?" cried Tony with unaccountablerelief."Of course -- what else did you think?""But is it too late for the Ambassador to save you?""From you?" A smile flashed through her tears. "Alas, yes." Shedrew back and hid her face again, as though overcome by a fresh wave ofshame.Tony glanced about him. "If I could wrench a bar out of that window--" he muttered."Impossible! The court is guarded. You are a prisoner, alas. -- Oh,I must speak!" She sprang up and paced the room. "But indeed you canscarce think worse of me than you do already --""I think ill of you?""Alas, you must! To be unwilling to marry the man my father haschosen for me --""Such a beetle-browed lout! It would be a burning shame if youmarried him.""Ah, you come from a free country. Here a girl is allowed no choice.""It is infamous, I say -- infamous!""No, no -- I ought to have resigned myself, like so many others.""Resigned yourself to that brute! Impossible!""He has a dreadful name for violence -- his gondolier has told mylittle maid such tales of him! But why do I talk of myself, when it isof you I should be thinking?""Of me, poor child?" cried Tony, losing his head."Yes, and how to save you -- for I can save you! But every momentcounts -- and yet what I have to say is so dreadful.""Nothing from your lips could seem dreadful.""Ah, if he had had your way of speaking!""Well, now at least you are free of him," said Tony, a littlewildly; but at this she stood up and bent a grave look on him."No, I am not free," she said; "but you are, if you will do as Itell you."Tony, at this, felt a sudden dizziness; as though, from a madflight through clouds and darkness, he had dropped to safety again, andthe fall had stunned him."What am I to do?" he said."Look away from me, or I can never tell you."He thought at first that this was a jest, but her eyes commandedhim, and reluctantly he walked away and leaned in the embrasure of thewindow. She stood in the middle of the room, and as soon as his back wasturned she began to speak in a quick monotonous voice, as though shewere reciting a lesson."You must know that the Marquess Zanipolo, though a great noble, isnot a rich man. True, he has large estates, but he is a desperatespendthrift and gambler, and would sell his soul for a round sum ofready money. -- If you turn round I shall not go on! -- He wrangledhorribly with my father over my dowry -- he wanted me to have more thaneither of my sisters, though one married a Procurator and the other agrandee of Spain. But my father is a gambler too -- oh, such fortunes asare squandered over the arcade yonder! And so -- and so -- don't turn, Iimplore you -- oh, do you begin to see my meaning?"She broke off sobbing, and it took all his strength to keep hiseyes from her."Go on," he said."Will you not understand? Oh, I would say anything to save you! Youdon't know us Venetians -- we're all to be bought for a price. It is notonly the brides who are marketable -- sometimes the husbands sellthemselves too. And they think you rich -- my father does, and theothers -- I don't know why, unless you have shown your money too freely-- and the English are all rich, are they not? And -- oh, oh -- do youunderstand? Oh, I can't bear your eyes!"She dropped into a chair, her head on her arms, and Tony in a flashwas at her side."My poor child, my poor Polixena!" he cried, and wept and clasped her."You are rich, are you not? You would promise them a ransom?" shepersisted."To enable you to marry the Marquess?""To enable you to escape from this place. Oh, I hope I may neversee your face again." She fell to weeping once more, and he drew awayand paced the floor in a fever.Presently she sprang up with a fresh air of resolution, and pointedto a clock against the wall. "The hour is nearly over. It is quite truethat my father is gone to fetch his chaplain. Oh, I implore you, bewarned by me! There is no other way of escape.""And if I do as you say -- ?""You are safe! You are free! I stake my life on it.""And you -- you are married to that villain?""But I shall have saved you. Tell me your name, that I may say itto myself when I am alone.""My name is Anthony. But you must not marry that fellow.""You forgive me, Anthony? You don't think too badly of me?""I say you must not marry that fellow."She laid a trembling hand on his arm. "Time presses," she adjuredhim, "and I warn you there is no other way."For a moment he had a vision of his mother, sitting very upright,on a Sunday evening, reading Dr. Tillotson's sermons in the best parlourat Salem; then he swung round on the girl and caught both her hands inhis. "Yes, there is," he cried, "if you are willing. Polixena, let thepriest come!"She shrank back from him, white and radiant. "Oh, hush, be silent!"she said."I am no noble Marquess, and have no great estates," he cried. "Myfather is a plain India merchant in the colony of Massachusetts -- butif you --""Oh, hush, I say! I don't know what your long words mean. But Ibless you, bless you, bless you on my knees!" And she knelt before him,and fell to kissing his hands.He drew her up to his breast and held her there."You are willing, Polixena?" he said."No, no!" She broke from him with outstretched hands. "I am notwilling. You mistake me. I must marry the Marquess, I tell you!""On my money?" he taunted her; and her burning blush rebuked him."Yes, on your money," she said sadly."Why? Because, much as you hate him, you hate me still more?"She was silent."If you hate me, why do you sacrifice yourself for me?" he persisted."You torture me! And I tell you the hour is past.""Let it pass. I'll not accept your sacrifice. I will not lift afinger to help another man to marry you.""Oh, madman, madman!" she murmured.Tony, with crossed arms, faced her squarely, and she leaned againstthe wall a few feet off from him. Her breast throbbed under its lace andfalbalas, and her eyes swam with terror and entreaty."Polixena, I love you!" he cried.A blush swept over her throat and bosom, bathing her in light tothe verge of her troubled brows."I love you! I love you!" he repeated.And now she was on his breast again, and all their youth was intheir lips. But her embrace was as fleeting as a bird's poise and beforehe knew it he clasped empty air, and half the room was between them.She was holding up a little coral charm and laughing. "I took itfrom your fob," she said. "It is of no value, is it? And I shall not getany of the money, you know."She continued to laugh strangely, and the rouge burned like fire inher ashen face."What are you talking of?" he said."They never give me anything but the clothes I wear. And I shallnever see you again, Anthony!" She gave him a dreadful look. "Oh, mypoor boy, my poor love -- 'I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, POLIXENA!'"He thought she had turned light-headed, and advanced to her withsoothing words; but she held him quietly at arm's length, and as hegazed he read the truth in her face.He fell back from her, and a sob broke from him as he bowed hishead on his hands."Only, for God's sake, have the money ready, or there may be foulplay here," she said.As she spoke there was a great tramping of steps outside and aburst of voices on the threshold."It is all a lie," she gasped out, "about my marriage, and theMarquess, and the Ambassador, and the Senator -- but not, oh, not aboutyour danger in this place -- or about my love," she breathed to him. Andas the key rattled in the door she laid her lips on his brow.The key rattled, and the door swung open -- but the black-cassockedgentleman who stepped in, though a priest indeed, was no votary ofidolatrous rites, but that sound orthodox divine, the Reverend OziasMounce, looking very much perturbed at his surroundings, and very muchon the alert for the Scarlet Woman. He was supported, to his evidentrelief, by the captain of the Hepzibah B., and the procession was closedby an escort of stern-looking fellows in cocked hats and small-swords,who led between them Tony's late friends the magnificoes, now as sorry alooking company as the law ever landed in her net.The captain strode briskly into the room, uttering a grunt ofsatisfaction as he clapped eyes on Tony."So, Mr. Bracknell," said he, "you have been seeing the Carnivalwith this pack of mummers, have you? And this is where your pleasuringhas landed you? H'm -- a pretty establishment, and a pretty lady at thehead of it." He glanced about the apartment and doffed his hat with mockceremony to Polixena, who faced him like a princess."Why, my girl," said he, amicably, "I think I saw you this morningin the square, on the arm of the Pantaloon yonder; and as for thatCaptain Spavent --" and he pointed a derisive finger at the Marquess--"I've watched him drive his bully's trade under the arcade ever sinceI first dropped anchor in these waters. Well, well," he continued, hisindignation subsiding, "all's fair in Carnival, I suppose, but thisgentleman here is under sailing orders, and I fear we must break up yourlittle party."At this Tony saw Count Rialto step forward, looking very small andexplanatory, and uncovering obsequiously to the captain."I can assure you, sir," said the Count in his best English, "thatthis incident is the result of an unfortunate misunderstanding, and ifyou will oblige us by dismissing these myrmidons, any of my friends herewill be happy to offer satisfaction to Mr. Bracknell and his companions."Mr. Mounce shrank visibly at this, and the captain burst into aloud guffaw."Satisfaction?" says he. "Why, my cock, that's very handsome ofyou, considering the rope's at your throats. But we'll not takeadvantage of your generosity, for I fear Mr. Bracknell has alreadytrespassed on it too long. You pack of galley-slaves, you!" hespluttered suddenly, "decoying young innocents with that devil's bait ofyours --" His eye fell on Polixena, and his voice softenedunaccountably. "Ah, well, we must all see the Carnival once, I suppose,"he said. "All's well that ends well, as the fellow says in the play; andnow, if you please, Mr. Bracknell, if you'll take the reverendgentleman's arm there, we'll bid adieu to our hospitable entertainers,and right about face for the Hepzibah."9.5 Add A Venetian Night's Entertainment to your library.Return to the Edith Wharton library, or . . . Read the next short story; Crucial Instances
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