“We are on honour,” cried the banditti with one voice; “no harm shall happen to you. He who does you an injury shall be to us as a foe. A fellow of your humour suits us well; follow us, and fear not.”
And on they went, Abellino marching between two of them. Frequent were the looks of suspicion which he cast around him; but no ill design was perceptible in the banditti. They guided him onwards, till they reached a canal, loosened a gondola, placed themselves in it, and rowed till they had gained the most remote quarter of Venice. They landed, threaded several by-streets, and at length knocked at the door of a house of inviting appearance. It was opened by a young woman, who conducted them into a plain but comfortable chamber. Many were the looks of surprise and inquiry which she cast on the bewildered, half-pleased, half-anxious Abellino, who knew not whither he had been conveyed, and still thought it unsafe to confide entirely in the promises of the banditti.
CHAPTER III.
THE TRIAL OF STRENGTH.
Scarcely were the bravoes seated, when Cinthia (for that was the young woman’s name) was again summoned to the door; and the company was now increased by two new-comers, who examined their unknown guest from head to foot.
“Now, then,” cried one of these, who had conducted Abellino to this respectable society, “let us see what you are like.”
As he said this he raised a burning lamp from the table, and the light of its flame was thrown full upon Abellino’s countenance.
“Lord, forgive me my sins!” screamed Cinthia; “out upon him! what an ugly hound it is!”
She turned hastily round, and hid her face with her hands. Dreadful was the look with which Abellino repaid her compliment.
“Knave,” said one of the banditti, “Nature’s own hand has marked you out for an assassin—come, prithee be frank, and tell us how thou hast contrived so long to escape the gibbet? In what gaol didst thou leave thy last fetters? Or from what galley hast thou taken thy departure, without staying to say adieu?”
Abellino, folding his arms—“If I be such as you describe,” said he, with an air of authority, and in a voice which made his hearers tremble, “’tis for me all the better. Whate’er may be my future mode of life, Heaven can have no right to find fault with it, since it was for that it formed and fitted me.”