A certain Jacopo Frontoni, that hath his abode somewhere near the arsenal ?" "Cospetto! Signor' Duca, the man is as well known to us gondoliers as the bridge of the Rialto! Your eccellenza has no need to trouble yourself to describe him." Don Camillo Monforte was searching among the papers of a secretaire.

He raised his eyes in some little amazement at the sally of his dependant, and then he quietly resumed his occupation.
"If thou knowest the man, it is enough." "Eccellenza, yes.

And what is your pleasure with this accursed Jacopo ?" The Duke of Sant' Agata seemed to recollect himself.

He replaced the papers which had been deranged, and he closed the secretaire.
"Gino," he said, in a tone of confidence and amity, "thou wert born on my estates, though so long trained here to the oar in Venice, and thou hast passed thy life in my service." "Eccellenza, yes." "It is my desire that thou should'st end thy days where they began.

I have had much confidence in thy discretion hitherto, and I have satisfaction in saying it has never failed thee, notwithstanding thou hast necessarily been a witness of some exploits of youth which might have drawn embarrassment on thy master were thy tongue less disposed to silence." "Eccellenza, yes." Don Camillo smiled; but the gleam of humor gave way to a look of grave and anxious thought.
"As thou knowest the person of him I have named, our affair is simple.
Take this packet," he continued, placing a sealed letter of more than usual size into the hand of the gondolier, and drawing from his finger a signet ring, "with this token of thy authority.