“The duke is death.”
“Now who shall conquer?”
“We will see.”
A sharp, yet low whistle, from the lips of this last speaker, who stood beside the duke, when he watched his duchess away there in Venice, and watched her from a gondola. Barely had the whistle whispered through the air, than a score of soft-footed men, each like each, enveloped in a shroud-like cloak, surrounded him who had spoken by the duchess.
“Beware—the duchess.”
“Be silent, and depart. This youth hath offended the duke. Be silent, and fear not.”
They carried him away with them, and in the wide square only stood the duke’s servant, watching Gennaro’s house.
CHAPTER III.
Go we now to the grand palace, where the husband and wife watched each other ceaselessly, each ever fearing death at the hands of the other. A happy palace, truly.