“I suppose you thought I was behaving badly, signore,” he said. “But Piero has got three passengers away from me to-day, and I couldn’t stand it.”
“I have not condemned you, friend,” said the stranger mildly. “What does your own judgment say?”
The man’s eyes fell. “I needn’t have used certain words,” he said in a low tone.
“Your judgment decides well,” said the stranger. “It has no need of my interference. Addio, Gianbattista Feroli.”
“Addio!” the gondolier echoed dreamily, and stood looking after him. “He has a saint’s face,” he muttered. “But how did he know my name!”
CHAPTER IV.
On leaving Venice, Tacita Mora’s ultimate destination was to go to her mother’s relatives, after some months spent in travel. Elena was to be her companion and guardian on the journey.
Who her mother’s relatives were, and where they were, she did not know. She had once asked her mother, who replied,—
“My child, it is better, for many reasons, that you should not know till you see them. They are quiet, respectable people. You have nothing to disturb your mind about on their account. They know of you. They will keep track of you, and seek you at the proper time.
“But, as I do not wish others, who would be unfriendly, should know of them, it is better that you should remain ignorant for the present. People may ask you questions, and you will thus be spared the trouble of evading, or refusing to answer. Confide in no one. Absolutely, confide in no one, as you value your life! The person who displays curiosity concerning your private affairs is the very last person whom you should trust. Curiosity is a tattler, or an insinuator. Do not talk of your personal affairs outside of your own family. I will give you a sign by which my people are to be recognized. You are never to give that to any one, even to them, nor to intimate that you know such a sign. They will give it to you, anywhere, if there should be need. If no trouble should occur, it will be given you by the side of a rock. To such a person you may trust everything.”