"What steps have you take a to—? But no!—go on—go on. What took place afterward?"
"Nothing, excellenza; for after this gondola, came that of my lord the marquis, and the signora retreated hastily to her room."
"Ah!—Now tell me what you have done?"
"I posted one of my men, with his gondola, under the balcony. He is to remain there, watching every gondola that passes both by day and by night. I have stationed men at every entrance of the palace, who are to give admittance to all who present themselves; but who are to require the names and business of all who leave. Even those who are in your excellency's pay are to be searched—for example, Mademoiselle Victorine."
"You are a well-trained dog," laughed Strozzi. "I really believe that I will have to set you and your child-murderess free, some of these days. Go, now, and bring me word who was in that gondola."
Antonio resumed his mask, and disappeared through the door, which closed, and left no trace upon the wall.
At this moment, there was a knock at the door of the antechamber, and a woman's voice was heard, asking admission.
"Lucretia!" said Strozzi, rising and undoing the bolt.
A lady entered the room. She was enveloped from head to foot in a veil of costly Venetian guipure, fastened to the braids of her raven-black hair by two large brilliants. Her face had been concealed by the veil, but, as the door closed behind her, she threw it back, and exposed to view a countenance of remarkable beauty.
"Look at me, Ottario," said she. "Tell me candidly—am I handsome enough to bewitch our guests, those princely bears of Germany?"