Gelsomina hung upon his arm, unwilling to trust him to his own guidance in that fearful building.
"It will not do, Carlo; thou wilt stumble on a soldier, and thy fault will be known; perhaps they will refuse to let thee come again; perhaps altogether shut the door of thy poor father's cell."
Jacopo made a gesture for her to lead the way, and followed. With a beating, but still lightened heart, Gelsomina glided along the passages, carefully locking each door, as of wont, behind her, when she had passed through it. At length they reached the well known Bridge of Sighs. The anxious girl went on with a lighter step, when she found herself approaching her own abode, for she was busy in planning the means of concealing her companion in her father's rooms, should there be hazard in his passing out of the prison during the day.
"But a single minute, Carlo," she whispered, applying the key to the door which opened into the latter building—the lock yielded, but the hinges refused to turn. Gelsomina paled as she added—"They have drawn the bolts within!"
"No matter; I will go down by the court of the palace, and boldly pass the halberdier unmasked."
Gelsomina, after all, saw but little risk of his being known by the mercenaries who served the Doge, and, anxious to relieve him from so awkward a position, she flew back to the other end of the gallery. Another key was applied to the door by which they had just entered, with the same result. Gelsomina staggered back, and sought support against the waft.
"We can neither return nor proceed!" she exclaimed, frightened she knew not why.
"I see it all," answered Jacopo, "we are prisoners on the fatal bridge."
As he spoke, the Bravo calmly removed his mask, and showed the countenance of a man whose resolution was at its height.
"Santa Madre di Dio! what can it mean?"