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Zschokke, Heinrich, 1771-1848

"The Bravo of Venice; a romance"


Calm and terrible stood the bravo before them, in all the pomp of
his strange and awful ugliness, with his bravo's habit, his girdle
filled with pistols and poniards, his distorted yellow countenance,
his black and bushy eyebrows, his lips convulsed, his right eye
covered by a large patch, and his left half buried among the
wrinkles of flesh which swelled around it. He gazed around him for
a few moments in silence, and then approached the stupefied Andreas.
"Ho! ho!" he roared in a voice like thunder, "you wish to see the
bravo Abellino? Doge of Venice, here he stands, and is come to
claim his bride."
Andreas gazed with looks of horror on this model for demons, and at
length stammered out with difficulty, "It cannot be real; I must
surely be the sport of some terrible dream."
"Without there, guards!" exclaimed the Cardinal Gonzaga, and would
have hastened to the folding doors, when Abellino put his back
against them, snatched a pistol from his girdle, and pointed it at
the Cardinal's bosom.
"The first," cried he, "who calls for the guard, or advances one
step from the place on which he stands, expires that moment. Fools!
Do ye think I would have delivered myself up, and desired that
guards might beset these doors, had I feared their swords, or
intended to escape from your power? No; I am content to be your
prisoner, but not through compulsion! I am content to be your
prisoner; and it was with that intent that I came hither.


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