living mass, which bore on high the name of Antonio, as if they celebrated the success of some conqueror. All feeling of contempt was lost in the influence of his triumph. The fishermen of the Lagunes, who so lately had loaded their aged companion with contumely, shouted for his glory, with a zeal that manifested the violence of the transition from mortification to pride, and, as has ever been, and ever will be the meed of success, he who was thought least likely to obtain it, was most greeted with praise and adulation, when it was found that the end had disappointed expectation. Ten thousand voices were lifted, in proclaiming his skill and victory, and young and old, the fair, the gay, the noble, the winner of sequins and he who lost, struggled alike, to catch a glimpse of the humble old man, who had so unexpectedly wrought this change of sentiment in the feelings of a multitude.

Antonio bore his triumph meekly. When his gondola had reached the goal, he checked

its course, and, without discovering any of the usual signs of exhaustion, he remained standing, though the deep heaving of his broad and tawny chest, proved that his powers had been taxed to their utmost. He smiled as the shouts arose on his ear, for praise is grateful, even to the meek; still he seemed oppressed, with an emotion of a character deeper than pride. Age had somewhat dimmed his eye, but it was now full of hope. His features worked, and a single burning drop fell on each rugged cheek. The fisherman then breathed more freely.

Like his successful antagonist, the waterman of the mask betrayed none of the debility which usually succeeds great bodily exertion. His knees were motionless, his hands still grasped the oar firmly, and he too kept his feet with a steadiness that shewed the physical perfection of his frame. On the other hand, both Gino and Bartolomeo sunk in their respective boats, as they gained the goal, in succession; and so exhausted was each of these renowned gondo

liers, that several moments elapsed before either had breath for speech. It was during this momentary pause that the multitude proclaimed its sympathy with the victor, by their longest and loudest shouts. The noise had scarcely died away, however, before a herald summoned Antonio of the Lagunes, the masked waterman of the Blessed St. John of the Wilderness, and Gino the Calabrian, to the presence of the doge, whose princely hand was to bestow the promised prizes of the regatta.

CHAPTER X.

We shall not spend a large expense of time,
Before we reckon with your several loves,
And make us even with you.

Macbeth.

WHEN the three gondolas reached the side of the Bucentaur, the fisherman hung back, as if he distrusted his right to intrude himself into the presence of the senate. He was, however, commanded to ascend, and signs were made for his two companions to follow.

The nobles, clad in their attire of office, formed

a long and imposing lane from the gangway to the stern, where the titular sovereign of that still more titular republic was placed, in the centre of the high officers of the state, gorgeous and grave in borrowed guise and natural qualities.

Approach," said the Prince, mildly, observing that the old and half-naked man that led the victors hesitated to advance. "Thou art the conqueror, fisherman, and to thy hands must I consign the prize."

Antonio bent his knee to the deck, and bowed his head lowly ere he obeyed. Then taking courage, he drew nearer to the person of the doge, where he stood with a bewildered eye and rebuked mien, waiting the further pleasure of his superiors. The aged prince paused for stillness to succeed the slight movements created by curiosity. When he spoke, it was amid a perfect calm.

"It is the boast of our glorious republic," he said, "that the rights of none are disregarded;