"To sup with her—but they will kill you, Excellency!"
"Ho, ho! see how this assassin is concerned for my life.
"Certainly I am. Have you not given me mine twice? I implore you not to go to the house—"
He would have said more, but the splash of an oar in the narrow canal by which they walked cut short his entreaties. A gondola was approaching them; the cry of the gondolier, awakening echoes beneath the eaves of the old houses, gave to Frà Giovanni that inspiration he had been seeking now for some minutes.
"Rocca Zicani," he exclaimed, standing suddenly as the warning cry, "Stalè," became more distinct, "I am going to put your professions to the proof."
"Excellency, I will do anything—"
"Then, if you would wake to-morrow with a head upon your shoulders, enter that gondola, and go back to those who sent you. Demand your wage of them—"
"But, Excellency—"
"Demand your wage of them," persisted the priest, sternly, "and say that the man who was their enemy lies dead before the church of San Salvatore. You understand me?"
A curious look came into the bravo's eyes.