"One knoweth not if he be in hiding, since he is not found; he may be a traitor, yet not a coward too."
"Yes, one knoweth, bella Contarini mia: did I not promise thee news? And thou wilt never guess it."
"It was our Admiral Mocenigo who found him?" Eloisà asked eagerly.
"Nay; not 'our Admiral Mocenigo';" the other answered lingering on the name with a fine mimicry of her tone; "not thine nor mine. Thou hast a foolish way with thee of mine and thine, as if all that came from Venice were held close to thy little heart.—How goes it with thy handsome Signor Bernardini?"
"Oh, Ecciva! The Chamberlain of the Queen! how darest thou? Thou art over free with thy foolish speech."
"Nay, little timid maid; it is thou who art foolish not to see—not to see——. Ah, well, he is but a man for all he is Venetian; and thou—thou art a child and hast no eyes."
"What meanest thou, Ecciva? Nay, thou shalt tell me." She caught her companion's hand as Ecciva made a feint of turning away.
"So——; now there is something found that doth not tax thy fickle patience, since we speak of the splendid Bernardini! Thou hast ever thine adoration ready for a Venetian."
Eloisà flushed indignantly, but she answered staunchly: "Not only I—but every one who loveth what is noble. Thou knowest, Ecciva, the Court is full of his praises."
"Aye, is it, my little one? As well it may be! Then what harm that I should sing them too? Verily, I think he is noble beyond all others;" her taunting tone became suddenly earnest. "And this I came to tell thee."