“To the hilt, boy, to the very hilt! Her death is required, and the payment will be princely; Rosabella in the grave, we are rich for life.”
Every other point was soon adjusted. Noon was now past, the clock in the neighbouring church of the Benedictines struck four, and Mattes and Abellino were already forth. They arrived at the gardens of Dolabella, which that day were unusually crowded. Every shady avenue was thronged with people of both sexes; every arbour was occupied by persons most distinguished in Venice. In every corner sighed lovesick couples, as they waited for the wished approach of twilight; and on every side did strains of vocal and instrumental music pour their harmony on the enchanted ear.
Abellino mingled with the crowd. A most respectable looking peruke concealed the repulsive ugliness of his features; he imitated the walk and manners of a gouty old man, and supported himself by a crutch, as he walked slowly through the assembly. His habit, richly embroidered, procured for him universally a good reception, and no one scrupled to enter into conversation with him respecting the weather, the commerce of the Republic, or the designs of its enemies; and on none of these subjects was Abellino found incapable of sustaining the discourse.
By these means he soon contrived to gain intelligence that Rosabella was certainly in the gardens, how she was habited, and in what quarter he was most likely to find her.
Thither he immediately bent his course; and hard at his heels followed Matteo.
Alone, and in the most retired arbour, sat Rosabella of Corfu, the fairest maid in Venice.
Abellino drew near the arbour; he tottered, as he passed its entrance, like one oppressed with sudden faintness, and attracted Rosabella’s attention.
“Alas, alas!” cried he, “is there no one at hand who will take compassion on the infirmity of a poor old man?”
The Doge’s fair niece quitted the arbour hastily, and flew to give assistance to the sufferer.
“What ails you, my good father?” she inquired in a melodious voice, and with a look of benevolent anxiety.