The Bravo

by James Fenimore Cooper

  Jacopo was not accustomed, unnecessarily, to trust his voice in the square of St. Mark, and at that hour. But his look of inquiry was returned by a sign to follow. He had been stopped by one whose figure was so completely concealed by a domino, as to baffle all conjecture concerning his true character. Perceiving, however, that the other wished to lead him to a part of the square that was vacant, and which was directly on the course he was about to pursue, the Bravo made a gesture of compliance and followed. No sooner were the two apart from the pressure of the crowd, and in a place where no eaves-dropper could overhear their discourse without detection, than the stranger stopped. He appeared to examine the person, stature, and dress of Jacopo, from beneath his mask, with singular caution, closing the whole with a sign that meant recognition. Jacopo returned his dumb show, but maintained a rigid silence.

  "Just Daniel!" muttered the stranger, when he found that his companion was not disposed to speak; "one would think, illustrious Signore, that your confessor had imposed a penance of silence, by the manner in which you refuse to speak to your servant."

  "What would'st thou?"

  "Here am I, sent into the piazza, among knights of industry, valets, gondoliers, and all other manner of revellers that adorn this Christian land, in search of the heir of one of the most ancient and honorable houses of Venice."

  "How knowest thou I am he thou seekest?"

  "Signore, there are many signs seen by a wise man, that escape the unobservant. When young cavaliers have a taste for mingling with the people in honorable disguise, as in the case of a certain patrician of this Republic, they are to be known by their air, if not by their voices."

  "Thou art a cunning agent, Hosea; but the shrewdness of thy race is its livelihood!"

  "It is its sole defence against the wrongs of the oppressor, young noble. We are hunted like wolves, and it is not surprising that we sometimes show the ferocity of the beasts yon take us for. But why should I tell the wrongs of my people to one who believes life is a masquerade!"

  "And who would not be sorry, ingenious Hosea, were it composed only of Hebrews! But thy errand; I have no gage unredeemed, nor do I know that I owe thee gold."

  "Righteous Samuel! your cavaliers of the Senate are not always mindful of the past, Signore, or these are words that might have been spared. If your excellency is inclined to forget pledges, the fault is not of my seeking; but as for the account that has been so long growing between us, there is not a dealer on the Rialto that will dispute the proofs."

  "Well, be it so—would'st thou dun my father's son in the face of the revellers in St. Mark?"

  "I would do no discredit to any come of that illustrious race, Signore, and therefore we will say no more of the matter; always relying that, at the proper moment, you will not question your own hand and seal."

  "I like thy prudence, Hebrew. It is a pledge thou comest on some errand less ungracious than common. As I am pressed for time, 'twill be a favor wert thou to name it."

  Hosea examined, in a covert but very thorough manner, the vacant spot around them, and drawing nearer to the supposed noble, he continued:

  "Signore, your family is in danger of meeting with a great loss! It is known to you that the Senate has altogether and suddenly removed Donna Violetta from the keeping of the faithful and illustrious senator your father."

  Though Jacopo started slightly, the movement was so natural for a disappointed lover, that it rather aided than endangered his disguise.

  "Compose yourself, young Signore," continued Hosea; "these disappointments attend us all in youth, as I know by severe trials. Leah was not gained without trouble, and next to success in barter, success in love is perhaps the most uncertain. Gold is a great make-weight in both, and it commonly prevails. But you are nearer to losing the lady of your love and her possessions than you may imagine, for I am sent expressly to say that she is about to be removed from the city."

  "Whither?" demanded Jacopo, so quickly as to do credit to his assumed character.

  "That is the point to learn, Signore. Thy father is a sagacious senator, and is deep at times in the secrets of the State. But judging from his uncertainty on this occasion, I think he is guided more by his calculations than by any assurance of his own knowledge. Just Daniel! I have seen the moments when I have suspected that the venerable patrician himself was a member of the Council of Three!"

  "His house is ancient and his privileges well established—why should he not?"

  "I say naught against it, Signore. It is a wise body, that doeth much good, and preventeth much harm. None speak evil of the secret councils on the Rialto, where men are more given to gainful industry that to wild discussions of their rulers' acts. But, Signore, be he of this or that council, or merely of the Senate, a heedful hint has fallen from his lips of the danger we are in of losing—"

  "We!—Hast thou thoughts of Donna Violetta, Hosea?"

  "Leah and the law forbid!—If the comely queen of Sheba herself were to tempt me, and a frail nature showed signs of weakness, I doubt that our rabbis would find reasons for teaching self-denial! Besides, the daughter of Levi is no favorer of polygamy, nor any other of our sex's privileges. I spoke in pluralities, Signore, because the Rialto has some stake in this marriage as well as the house of Gradenigo."

  "I understand thee. Thou hast fears for thy gold?"

  "Had I been easily alarmed, Signor Giacomo, in that particular, I might not have parted with it so readily. But, though the succession of thy illustrious father will be ample to meet any loan within my humble means, that of the late Signor Tiepolo will not weaken the security."

  "I admit thy sagacity, and feel the importance of thy warning. But it seems to have no other object or warranty than thy own fears."

  "With certain obscure hints from your honored father, Signore?"

  "Did he say more to the point?"

  "He spoke in parables, young noble, but having an oriental ear his words were not uttered to the wind. That the rich damsel is about to be conveyed from Venice am I certain, and for the benefit of the little stake I have myself in her movements, I would give the best turquoise in my shop to know whither."

  "Canst thou say with certainty, 'twill be this night?"

  "Giving no pledge for redemption in the event of mistake, I am so sure, young cavalier, as to have many unquiet thoughts."

  "Enough—I will look to my own interests and to thine."

  Jacopo waved his hand in adieu, and pursued his walk up the piazza.

  "Had I looked more sharply to the latter, as became one accustomed to deal with the accursed race," muttered the Hebrew, "it would be a matter of no concern to me if the girl married a Turk!"

  "Hosea," said a mask at his ear; "a word with thee in secret."

  The jeweller started, and found that in his zeal he had suffered one to approach within sound of his voice unseen. The other was in a domino also, and so well enveloped as to be effectually concealed.

  "What would'st thou, Signor Mask?" demanded the wary Jew.

  "A word in friendship and in confidence.—Thou hast moneys to lend at usury?"

  "The question had better be put to the Republic's treasury! I have many stones valued much below their weight, and would be glad to put them with some one more lucky than myself who will be able to keep them."

  "Nay, this will not suffice—thou art known to be abounding in sequins; one of thy race and riches will never refuse a sure loan with securities as certain as the laws of Venice. A thousand ducats in thy willing hand is no novelty"

  "They who call me rich, Signor Mask, are pleased to joke with the unhappy child of a luckless race. That I might have been above want—nay, that I am not downright needy, may be true; but when they speak of a thousand ducats, they speak of affairs too weighty for my burdened shoulders. Were it your pleasure to purchase an amethyst or a ruby, gallant Signore, there might possibly be dealings between us?"

  "I have need of gold, old man, and can spare thee jewels myself at need. My wants are urge
nt at this moment, and I have little time to lose in words—name thy conditions."

  "One should have good securities, Signore, to be so peremptory in a matter of money."

  "Thou hast heard that the laws of Venice are not more certain. A thousand sequins, and that quickly. Thou shalt settle the usury with thine own conscience."

  Hosea thought that this was giving ample room to the treaty, and he began to listen more seriously.

  "Signore," he said, "a thousand ducats are not picked up at pleasure from the pavement of the great square. He who would lend them must first earn them with long and patient toil; and he who would borrow—"

  "Waits at thy elbow."

  "Should have a name and countenance well known on the Rialto."

  "Thou lendest on sufficient pledges to masks, careful Hosea, or fame belies thy generosity."

  "A sufficient pledge gives me power to see the way clearly, though the borrower should be as much hidden as those up above. But here is none forthcoming. Come to me to-morrow, masked or not, as may suit your own pleasure, for I have no impertinent desire to pry into any man's secrets beyond what a regard to my own interests requires, and I will look into my coffers; though those of no heir-apparent in Venice can be emptier."

  "My necessities are too urgent to brook delay. Hast thou the gold, on condition of naming thine own usury?"

  "With sufficient pledges, in stones of price, I might rake together the sum among our dispersed people, Signore. But he who goes on the island to borrow, as I shall be obliged to do, should be able to satisfy all doubts concerning the payment."

  "The gold can then be had—on that point I may be easy?"

  Hosea hesitated, for he had in vain endeavored to penetrate the other's disguise, and while he thought his assurance a favorable omen, with a lender's instinct he disliked his impatience.

  "I have said, by the friendly aid of our people," he answered, with caution.

  "This uncertainty will not answer my need. Addio, Hosea—I must seek elsewhere."

  "Signore, you could not be more hurried were the money to pay the cost of your nuptials. Could I find Isaac and Aaron within, at this late hour, I think I might be safe in saying, that part of the money might be had."

  "I cannot trust to this chance."

  "Nay, Signore, the chance is but small, since Aaron is bed-ridden, and Isaac never fails to look into his affairs after the toil of the day is ended. The honest Hebrew finds sufficient recreation in the employment, though I marvel at his satisfaction, since nothing but losses have come over our people the year past!"

  "I tell thee, Jew, no doubt must hang over the negotiation. The money, with pledges, and thine own conscience for arbiter between us; but no equivocal dealings, to be followed by a disappointment, under the pretence that second parties are not satisfied."

  "Just Daniel! to oblige you, Signore, I think I may venture. The well known Hebrew, Levi of Livorno, has left with me a sack, containing the very sum of which there is question, and, under the conditions named, I will convert it to my uses, arid repay the good jeweller his gold, with moneys of my own, at a later day."

  "I thank thee for the fact, Hosea," said the other, partially removing his mask, but as instantly replacing it. "It will greatly shorten our negotiations. Thou hast not that sack of the Jew of Livorno beneath thy domino?"

  Hosea was speechless. The removal of the mask had taught him two material facts. He had been communicating his distrust of the Senate's intentions, concerning Donna Violetta, to an unknown person, and, possibly, to an agent of the police; and he had just deprived himself of the only argument he had ever found available, in refusing the attempts of Giacomo Gradenigo to borrow, by admitting to that very individual that he had in his power the precise sum required.

  "I trust the face of an old customer is not likely to defeat our bargain, Hosea?" demanded the profligate heir of the senator, scarce concealing the irony in which the question was put.

  "Father Abraham! Had I known it had been you, Signor Giacomo, we might have greatly shortened the treaty."

  "By denying that thou hadst the money, as thou hast so often done of late!"

  "Nay, nay, I am not a swallower of my own words, young Signore; but my duty to Levi must not be forgotten. The careful Hebrew made me take a vow, by the name of our tribe, that I would not part with his gold to any that had not the means of placing its return beyond all chances."

  "This assurance is not wanting, since thou art the borrower, thyself, to lend to me."

  "Signore, you place my conscience in an awkward position. You are now my debtor some six thousand sequins, and were I to make this loan of money in trust, and were you to return it—two propositions I make on supposition—a natural love for my own might cause me to pass the payment to account, whereby I should put the assets of Levi in jeopardy."

  "Settle that as thou wilt with thy conscience, Hosea—thou hast confessed to the money, and here are jewels for the pledge—I ask only the sequins."

  It is probable that the appeal of Giacomo Gradenigo would not have produced much effect on the flinty nature of the Hebrew, who had all the failings of a man proscribed by opinion; but having recovered from his surprise, he began to explain to his companion his apprehensions on account of Donna Violetta, whose marriage, it will be remembered, was a secret to all but the witnesses and the Council of Three, when to his great joy he found that the gold was wanting to advance his own design of removing her to some secret place. This immediately changed the whole face of the bargain. As the pledges offered were really worth the sum to be received, Hosea thought, taking the chances of recovering back his ancient loans, from the foreign estates of the heiress, into the account, the loan would be no bad investment of the pretended sequins of his friend Levi.

  As soon as the parties had come to a clear understanding, they left the square together, to consummate their bargain.

  Chapter XXI

  *

  "We'll follow Cade, we'll follow Cade."

  HENRY VI.

  The night wore on. The strains of music again began to break through the ordinary stillness of the town, and the boats of the great were once more in motion on every canal. Hands waved timidly in recognition, from the windows of the little dark canopies, as the gondolas glided by, but few paused to greet each other in that city of mystery and suspicion. Even the refreshing air of the evening was inhaled under an appearance of restraint, which, though it might not be at the moment felt, was too much interwoven with the habits of the people, ever to be entirely thrown aside.

  Among the lighter and gayer barges of the patricians, a gondola of more than usual size, but of an exterior so plain as to denote vulgar uses, came sweeping down the great canal. Its movement was leisurely, and the action of the gondoliers that of men either fatigued or little pressed for time. He who steered, guided the boat with consummate skill, but with a single hand, while his three fellows, from time to time, suffered their oars to trail on the water in very idleness. In short, it had the ordinary listless appearance of a boat returning to the city from an excursion on the Brenta, or to some of the more distant isles.

  Suddenly the gondola diverged from the centre of the passage, down which it rather floated than pulled, and shot into one of the least frequented canals of the city. From this moment its movement became more rapid and regular, until it reached a quarter of the town inhabited by the lowest order of the Venetians. Here it stopped by the side of a warehouse, and one of its crew ascended to a bridge. The others threw themselves on the thwarts and seemed to repose.

  He who quitted the boat threaded a few narrow but public alleys, such as are to be found in every part of that confined town, and knocked lightly at a window. It was not long before the casement opened, and a female voice demanded the name of him without.

  "It is I, Annina," returned Gino, who was not an unfrequent applicant for admission at that private portal. "Open the door, girl, for I have come on a matter of pressing haste."

  Annina compl
ied, though not without making sure that her suitor was alone.

  "Thou art come unseasonably, Gino," said the wine-seller's daughter; "I was about to go to St. Mark's to breathe the evening air. My father and brothers are already departed, and I only stay to make sure of the bolts."

  "Their gondola will hold a fourth?"

  "They have gone by the footways."

  "And thou walkest the streets alone at this hour, Annina?"

  "I know not thy right to question it, if I do," returned the girl with spirit. "San Theodore be praised, I am not yet the slave of a Neapolitan's servitor!"

  "The Neapolitan is a powerful noble, Annina, able and willing to keep his servitors in respect."

  "He will have need of all his interest—but why hast thou come at this unseasonable hour? Thy visits are never too welcome, Gino, and when I have other affairs they are disagreeable."

  Had the passion of the gondolier been very deep or very sensitive, this plain dealing might have given him a shock; but Gino appeared to take the repulse as coolly as it was given.

  "I am used to thy caprices, Annina," he said, throwing himself upon a bench like one determined to remain where he was. "Some young patrician has kissed his hand to thee as thou hast crossed San Marco, or thy father has made a better day of it than common on the Lido; thy pride always mounts with thy father's purse."

  "Diamine! to hear the fellow one would think he had my troth, and that he only waited in the sacristy for the candles to be lighted to receive my vows! What art thou to me, Gino Tullini, that thou takest on thee these sudden airs?"

  "And what art thou to me, Annina, that thou playest off these worn-out caprices on Don Camillo's confidant?"

  "Out upon thee, insolent! I have no time to waste in idleness."

  "Thou art in much haste to-night, Annina."

  "To be rid of thee. Now listen to what I say, Gino, and let every word go to thy heart, for they are the last thou wilt ever hear from me. Thou servest a decayed noble, one who will shortly be chased in disgrace from the city, and with him will go all his idle servitors. I choose to remain in the city of my birth."