At length they began to recollect themselves they looked round them—and the first words which broke from every lip were—“Hail, saviour of Venice!”—The roof rung with the name of Abellino, and unnumbered blessings accompanied the name.
That very Abellino, who not an hour before had been doomed to the scaffold by the whole assembly, now stood calm and dignified as a god before the adoring spectators; and now he viewed with complacency the men whose lives he had saved, and now his eye dwelt with rapture on the woman whose love was the reward of all his dangers.
“Abellino!” said Andreas advancing to the bravo, and extending his hand towards him.
“I am not Abellino,” replied he, smiling, while he pressed the Doge’s hand respectfully to his lips “neither am I Flodoardo of Florence. I am by birth a Neapolitan, and by name Rosalvo. The death of my inveterate enemy the Prince of Monaldeschi makes it no longer necessary to conceal who I really am.”
“Monaldeschi?” repeated Andreas, with a look of anxiety.
“Fear not,” continued Rosalvo; “Monaldeschi, it is true, fell by my hand, but fell in honourable combat. The blood which stained his sword flowed from my veins, and in his last moments conscience asserted her empire in his bosom. He died not till he had written in his tablets the most positive declaration of my innocence as to the crimes with which his hatred had contrived to blacken me; and he also instructed me by what means I might obtain at Naples the restoration of my forfeited estates and the re-establishment of my injured honour. Those means have been already efficacious, and all Naples is by this time informed of the arts by which Monaldeschi procured my banishment, and of the many plots which he laid for my destruction; plots, which made it necessary for me to drop my own character, and never to appear but in disguise. After various wanderings chance led me to Venice. My appearance was so much altered, that I dreaded not discovery, but I dreaded (and with reason) perishing in your streets with hunger. In this situation accident brought me acquainted with the banditti, by whom Venice was then infested. I willingly united myself to their society, partly with a view of purifying the Republic from the presence of these wretches, and partly in the hope of discovering through them the more illustrious villains by whom their daggers were employed. I was successful. I delivered the banditti up to justice, and stabbed their captain in Rosabella’s sight. I was now the only bravo in Venice. Every scoundrel was obliged to have recourse to me. I discovered the plans of the conspirators, and now you know them also. I found that the deaths of the Doge’s three friends had been determined on; and in order to obtain full confidence with the confederates, it was necessary to persuade them that these men had fallen beneath my dagger. No sooner had my plan been formed than I imparted it to Lomellino. He, and he only, was my confidant in this business. He presented me to the Doge as the son of a deceased friend; he assisted me with his advice; he furnished me with keys to those doors to the public gardens, which none were permitted to pass through except Andreas and his particular friends, and which frequently enabled me to elude pursuit; he showed me several private passages in the palace by which I could penetrate unobserved even into the Doge’s very bed-chamber. When the time for his disappearance arrived, he not only readily consented to lie concealed in a retreat known only to ourselves, but was also the means of inducing Manfrone and Conari to join him in his retirement, till the fortunate issue of this day’s adventure permitted me to set them once more at liberty. The banditti exist no longer; the conspirators are in chains; my plans are accomplished; and now, Venetians, if you still think him deserving of it, here stands the bravo Abellino, and you may lead him to the scaffold when you will.”
“To the scaffold!” exclaimed at once the Doge, the senators, and the whole crowd of nobility; and every one burst into enthusiastic praises of the dauntless Neapolitan.
“Oh, Abellino,” exclaimed Andreas, while he wiped away a tear, “I would gladly give my ducal bonnet to be such a bravo as thou hast been. ‘Doge,’ did thou once say to me, ‘thou and I are the two greatest men in Venice,’ but oh, how much greater is the bravo than the Doge! Rosabella is that jewel, than which I have nothing in the world more precious; Rosabella is dearer to me than an emperor’s crown; Rosabella is thine.”
“Abellino,” said Rosabella, and extended her hand to the handsome Bravo.
“Triumph!” cried he, “Rosabella is the Bravo’s Bride,” and he clasped the blushing maid to his bosom.