Chapter 27

"Let us lift up the curtain, and observe
What passes in that chamber."
ROGERS.

There were many rumors uttered in the fearful and secret manner which
characterized the manner of the town, in the streets of Venice that day.
Hundreds passed near the granite columns, as if they expected to see the
Bravo occupying his accustomed stand, in audacious defiance of the
proclamation, for so long and so mysteriously had he been permitted to
appear in public, that men had difficulty in persuading themselves he
would quit his habits so easily. It is needless to say that the vague
expectation was disappointed. Much was also said, vauntingly, in behalf
of the Republic's justice, for the humbled are bold enough in praising
their superiors; and he, who had been dumb for years on subjects of a
public nature, now found his voice like a fearless freeman.

But the day passed away without any new occurrence to call the citizens
from their pursuits. The prayers for the dead were continued with little
intermission, and masses were said before the altars of half the
churches for the repose of the fisherman's soul. His comrades, a little
distrustful, but greatly gratified, watched the ceremonies with jealousy
and exultation singularly blended. Ere the night set in again, they were
among the most obedient of those the oligarchy habitually trod upon; for
such is the effect of this species of domination, that it acquires a
power to appease, by its flattery, the very discontents created by its
injustice. Such is the human mind: a factitious but deeply-seated
sentiment of respect is created by the habit of submission, which gives
the subject of its influence a feeling of atonement, when he who has
long played the superior comes down from his stilts, and confesses the
community of human frailties!

The square of St. Mark filled at the usual hour, the patricians deserted
the Broglio as of wont, and the gaieties of the place were again
uppermost, before the clock had struck the second hour of the night.
Gondolas, filled with noble dames, appeared on the canals; the blinds of
the palaces were raised for the admission of the sea-breeze;--and music
began to be heard in the port, on the bridges, and under the balconies
of the fair. The course of society was not to be arrested, merely
because the wronged were unavenged, or the innocent suffered.

There stood, then, on the grand canal, as there stand now, many palaces
of scarcely less than royal magnificence. The reader has had occasion to
become acquainted with one or two of these splendid edifices, and it is
now our duty to convey him, in imagination, to another.

The peculiarity of construction, which is a consequence of the watery
site of Venice, gives the