The Three Brides, Love in a Cottage, and Other Tales Part 3

But Mr. Potts has gone in the midst of his schemes of usefulness. The tailless quadruped, the shedless cow, the unwhitewashed African, the condemned felon, the unhappy prisoner, actually treated as if he were no gentleman, in him have lost a friend. When shall we see his like again? Echo answers, Probably not for a very long period.

THE GONDOLIER.

O, rest thee here, my gondolier, Rest, rest, while up I go, To climb yon light balcony's height While thou keep'st watch below.

Ah! if high Heaven had tongues as well As starry eyes to see-- O, think what tales 'twould hate to tell Of wandering youths like me.

MOORE.

The traveller of to-day who visits Venice sees in that once splendid city nothing but a ma.s.s of mouldering palaces, the melancholy remains of former grandeur and magnificence; but few tokens to remind him that she was once the queen of the Adriatic, the emporium of Europe. But at the period of which we write the "sea Cybele" was in the very zenith of her brilliancy and power.

It was the season of carnival, and nowhere else in Italy were the holidays celebrated with such zest and magnificence. By night millions of lamps burned in the palace windows, rivalling the splendors of the firmament, and reflected in the still waters of the lagoons like myriads of stars. Night and day music was resounding. There were regattas, b.a.l.l.s, and festas, and the entire population seemed to have gone mad with gayety, and to have lost all thought of the Council of Ten, the Bridge of Signs, and the poniards of the bravoes.

On a bright morning of this holiday season, a group of young gondoliers, attired in their gayest costume, were sitting at the head of a flight of marble steps that led up from one of the ca.n.a.ls, waiting for their fares. A cavalier and lady, both gayly attired, and both masked, had just alighted from a gondola and pa.s.sed the boatman on their way to some rendezvous.

The gondolier who had conducted them, an old, gray-headed, hard-looking fellow, had pocketed his fee, nodded his thanks, and pushed off again from the landing.

"There goes old Beppo," said one of the gondoliers on sh.o.r.e. "He will make a good day's work of it. I can swear I saw the glitter of gold in his hand just now."

"Yes, yes!" said another. "Let him alone for making his money. And what he makes, he keeps. He's a close-fisted old hunks."

"And what is he so scrimping and saving for?" asked a third. "He is unmarried--he has no children."

"No--but he is to be married," said the first.

"How! the man's past sixty."

"Yes, comrade, but he will not be the first old fellow who has taken a young wife in his dotage. Have you never heard that he has a young ward, beautiful as an angel, whom he keeps cooped up as tenderly as a brooding dove in his tumble-down old house on the Ca.n.a.l Orfano? n.o.body but himself has ever set eyes on her to my knowledge."

"There you're mistaken, Stefano," said a young man, who had not hitherto spoken. He was a fine, das.h.i.+ng, handsome young fellow of twenty-six, in a holiday suit of crimson and gold, with a fiery eye, long, curling locks, and a mustache as black as jet.

"Let's hear what Antonio Giraldo has to say about the matter!" cried his companions.

"Simply this," said the young man. "I have seen the imprisoned fair one--the peerless Zanetta--for such is her name. She is lovely as the day; and for her voice--why--_Corpo di Bacco_! La Gianina, the prima donna, is a screechowl to _my_ nightingale."

"_Your_ nightingale! Bravo!" cried Stefano, in a tone of mocking irony. "What can you know about her voice?"

"Simply this, Master Stefano," replied the young gondolier. "When floating beneath her window in my gondola, I have addressed her in such rude strains of melody as I best knew how to frame. She has replied in tones so liquid and pure that the angels might have listened."

"By Heaven! the fellow's in love!" cried Stefano.

"Long live music and love!" cried Antonio. "What were life worth without them?"

"You're in excellent spirits!" cried Stefano.

"And why shouldn't a man be, on his wedding day?"

"Mad as a march hare," cried Stefano.

"Mark me," said Antonio. "That girl shall never marry old Beppo--my word for it. She hates him."

"She'll elope with some n.o.ble, then."

"To be cast off to wither when he is tired of her charms? No! the bridegroom for Zanetta is a gondolier."

"With all my heart," said Stefano. "But come, comrades, it is no use waiting here. Let us to our gondolas, and row for St. Marks. You'll come with us, Antonio."

"Not I--my occupation's gone."

"How so?"

"I have sold my gondola."

"Sold your gondola."

"Ay--that was my word."

"But why?"

"I wanted money."

"Your gondola was the means of earning it."

"Very true--but I had occasion for a certain sum at once."

"And why not have recourse to our purses, Antonio? Light as they are, we would have made it up by contributions among us."

"I doubted not your kindness--but my self-respect would not permit me to ask your aid. Good by, comrades; we shall meet again to-morrow."

"To-morrow. _Addio_!"

There was a brilliant masquerade that evening at the palazzo of Count Giulio Colonna. Invitations had been issued to all the world, and all the world was present. The finest music, the richest wines, the most splendid decorations were lavished on the occasion. Perhaps, among that brilliant company, there was more than one plebeian, who, under cover of the masque, and employing the license common at these saturnalia, had intruded himself unbidden.

Old Beppo, the gondolier, was in attendance at the vestibule of the palace, feasting his avaricious eyes on the glimpses of wealth and luxury he noted within doors, when a gentleman in rich costume, and wearing a mask, beckoned him to one side, and desired a moment's interview.

"Do you know me?" was the first question asked by the stranger.

"No, signor," replied the old gondolier.

"Do you know these gentlemen?" asked the mask, slipping a couple of gold pieces into the miser's hand.

"Perfectly," replied the boatman, grinning. "What are your lords.h.i.+p's commands?"

"Is your gondola in waiting?"