"My master," uttered the terrified Gino, "St. Januarius, and St. Mark."
"Thou art well defended. Should the two latter fail thee, thou mayest surely count on the first!"
"Signor Monforte has an illustrious name, and he is welcome to our Venetian sports," observed the Doge, slightly bending his head towards the young Calabrian noble, who stood at no great distance in a gondola of state, regarding the scene with a deeply-interested countenance. This cautious interruption of the pleasantries of the official was acknowledged by a low reverence, and the matter proceeded.
"Take thy station, Gino of Calabria, and a happy fortune be thine," said the latter; then turning to another, he asked in surprise—"Why art thou here?"
"I come to try my gondola's swiftness."
"Thou art old, and unequal to this struggle; husband thy strength for daily toil. An ill-advised ambition hath put thee on this useless trial."
The new aspirant had forced a common fisherman's gondola, of no bad shape, and of sufficient lightness, but which bore about it all the vulgar signs of its daily uses, beneath the gallery of the Bucentaur. He received the reproof meekly, and was about to turn his boat aside, though with a sorrowing and mortified eye, when a sign from the Doge arrested his arm.
"Question him, as of wont," said the prince.
"How art thou named?" continued the reluctant official, who, like all of subordinate condition, had far more jealousy of the dignity of the sports he directed, than his superior.
"I am known as Antonio, a fisherman of the Lagunes."