Memmo.--I confess it seems to me as if Heaven gave us warning to
desist. How say you?
Contarino.--Pshaw, these are trifles! Such accidents should only
serve to sharpen our wits. The more obstacles I encounter, the
firmer is my resolution to surmount them.
Falieri.--Do the banditti know who you are?
Contarino.--No; they are not only ignorant of my name, but suppose
me to be a mere instrument of some powerful man, who has been
injured by the ducal confederates.
Memmo.--Well, Contarino, in my mind you should thank Heaven that you
have escaped so well.
Falieri.--But since he is an absolute stranger in Venice, how could
Flodoardo discover the lurking place of the banditti?
Contarino.--I know not; probably by mere accident like myself, but
by the Power that made me, he shall pay dearly for this wound.
Falieri.--Flodoardo is rather too hasty in making himself remarked.
Parozzi.--Flodoardo must die.
Contarino (filling a goblet).--May his next cup contain poison.
Falieri.--I shall do myself the honour of becoming better acquainted
with the gentleman.
Contarino.--Memmo, we must needs have full purses, or our business
will hang on hand wofully.
When does your uncle take his departure to a better world?
Memmo.--To-morrow evening, and yet--ugh, I tremble.
CHAPTER III: MORE CONFUSION.
Since Rosabella's birthday, no woman in Venice who had the slightest
pretensions to beauty, or the most remote expectations of making
conquests, had any subject of conversation except the handsome
Florentine.
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