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"Confusion!" exclaimed Parozzi, a Venetian nobleman of the first rank, as he paced his chamber with a disordered air on the morning after Matteo's murder; "now all curses light upon the villain's awkwardness; yet it seems inconceivable to me how all this should have fallen out so untowardly. Has any one discovered my designs? I know well that Verrino loves Rosabella. Was it he who opposed this confounded Abellino to Matteo, and charged him to mar my plans against her? That seems likely; and now, when the Doge inquires who it was that employed assassins to murder his niece, what other will be suspected than Parozzi, the discontented lover, to whom Rosabella refused her hand, and whom Andreas hates past hope of reconciliation? And now, having once found the scent--Parozzi! Parozzi! should the crafty Andreas get an insight into your plans, should he learn that you have placed yourself at the head of a troop of hare-brained youths--hare-brained may I well call children--who, in order to avoid the rod, set fire to their paternal mansions. Parozzi, should all this be revealed to Andreas--?"

Here his reflections were interrupted. Memmo, Falieri, and Contarino entered the room, three young Venetians of the highest rank, Parozzi's inseparable companions, men depraved both in mind and body, spendthrifts, voluptuaries, well known to every usurer in Venice, and owing more than their paternal inheritance would ever admit of their paying.

"Why, how is this, Parozzi?" cried Memmo as he entered, a wretch whose every feature exhibited marks of that libertinism to which his life had been dedicated; "I can scarce recover myself from my astonishment. For Heaven's sake, is this report true? Did you really hire Matteo to murder the Doge's niece?"

"I?" exclaimed Parozzi, and hastily turned away to hide the deadly paleness which overspread his countenance; "why should you suppose that any such designs--surely, Memmo, you are distracted."

Memmo.--By my soul, I speak but the plain matter of fact. Nay, only ask Falieri; he can tell you more.

Falieri.--Faith, it is certain, Parozzi, that Lomellino has declared to the Doge as a truth beyond doubting that you, and none but you, were the person who instigated Matteo to attempt Rosabella's life.

Parozzi.--And I tell you again that Lomellino knows not what he says.

Contarino.--Well, well, only be upon your guard. Andreas is a terrible fellow to deal with.

Falieri.--HE terrible. I tell you he is the most contemptible blockhead that the universe can furnish! Courage perhaps he possesses, but of brains not an atom.

Contarino.--And _I_ tell you that Andreas is as brave as a lion, and as crafty as a fox.

Falieri.--Pshaw! pshaw! Everything would go to rack and ruin were it not for the wiser heads of this triumvirate of counsellors, whom Heaven confound! Deprive him of Paolo Manfrone, Conari, and Lomellino, and the Doge would stand there looking as foolish as a schoolboy who was going to be examined and had forgotten his lesson.

Parozzi.--Falieri is in the right.

Memmo.--Quite, quite.

Falieri.--And then Andreas is as proud as a beggar grown rich and dressed in his first suit of embroidery. By St. Anthony, he is become quite insupportable. Do you not observe how he increases the number of his attendants daily?

Memmo.--Nay, that is an undoubted fact.

Contarino.--And then, to what an unbounded extent has he carried his influence. The Signoria, the Quaranti, the Procurators of St. Mark, the Avocatori, all think and act exactly as it suits the Doge's pleasure and convenience! Every soul of them depends as much on that one man's honour and caprices as puppets do who nod or shake their wooden heads just as the fellow behind the curtain thinks proper to move the wires.

Parozzi.--And yet the populace idolises this Andreas.

Memmo.--Ay, that is the worst part of the story.

Falieri.--But never credit me again if he does not experience a reverse of fortune speedily.

Contarino.--That might happen would we but set our shoulders to the wheel stoutly. But what do we do? We pass our time in taverns; drink and game, and throw ourselves headlong into such an ocean of debts, that the best swimmer must sink at last. Let us resolve to make the attempt. Let us seek recruits on all sides; let us labour with all our might and main. Things must change, or if they do not, take my word for it, my friends, this world is no longer a world for us.

Memmo.--Nay, it's a melancholy truth, that during the last half-year my creditors have been ready to beat my door down with knocking. I am awakened out of my sleep in the morning, and lulled to rest again at night with no other music than their eternal clamour.

Parozzi.--Ha! ha! ha! As for me, I need not tell you how I am suited.

Falieri.--Had we been less extravagant, we might at this moment have been sitting quietly in our palaces; but as things stand now -

Parozzi.--Well, as things stand now--I verily believe that Falieri is going to moralise.

Contarino.--That is ever the way with old sinners when they have lost the power to sin any longer. Then they are ready enough to weep over their past life, and talk loudly about repentance and reformation. Now, for my own part, I am perfectly well satisfied with my wanderings from the common beaten paths of morality and prudence. They serve to convince me that I am not one of your every-day men, who sit cramped up in the chimney-corner, lifeless, phlegmatic, and shudder when they hear of any extraordinary occurrence. Nature evidently has intended me to be a libertine, and I am determined to fulfil my destination. Why, if spirits like ours were not produced every now and then, the world would absolutely go fast asleep, but we rouse it by deranging the old order of things, force mankind to quicken their snail's pace, furnish a million of idlers with riddles which they puzzle their brains about without being able to comprehend, infuse some hundreds of new ideas into the heads of the great multitude, and, in short, are as useful to the world as tempests are, which dissipate those exhalations with which Nature otherwise would poison herself.

Falieri.--Excellent sophistry, by my honour. Why, Contarino, ancient Rome has had an irreparable loss in not having numbered you among her orators. It is a pity, though, that there should be so little that's solid wrapped up in so many fine-sounding words. Now learn that while you, with this rare talent of eloquence, have been most unmercifully wearing out the patience of your good-natured hearers, Falieri has been in ACTION. The Cardinal Gonzaga is discontented with the government--Heaven knows what Andreas has done to make him so vehemently his enemy--but, in short, Gonzaga now belongs to our party.

Parozzi (with astonishment and delight).--Falieri, are you in your senses? The Cardinal Gonzaga--?

Falieri.--Is ours, and ours both body and soul. I confess I was first obliged to rhodomontade a good deal to him about our patriotism, our glorious designs, our love for freedom, and so forth; in short, Gonzaga is a hypocrite, and therefore is Gonzaga the fitter for us.

Contarino (clasping Falieri's hand).--Bravo, my friend! Venice shall see a second edition of Catiline's conspiracy. Now, then, it is MY turn to speak, for I have not been idle since we parted. In truth, I have as yet CAUGHT nothing, but I have made myself master of an all-powerful net, with which I doubt not to capture the best half of Venice. You all know the Marchioness Olympia?

Parozzi.--Does not each of us keep a list of the handsomest women in the Republic, and can we have forgotten number one?

Falieri.--Olympia and Rosabella are the goddesses of Venice; our youths burn incense on no other altars.

Contarino.--Olympia is my own.

Falieri.--How?

Parozzi.--Olympia?

Contarino.--Why, how now? Why stare ye as had I prophesied to you that the skies were going to fall? I tell you Olympia's heart is mine, and that I possess her entire and most intimate confidence. Our connection must remain a profound secret, but depend on it, whatever _I_ wish SHE wishes also; and you know she can make half the nobility in Venice dance to the sound of her pipe, let her play what tune she pleases.

Parozzi.--Contarino, you are our master.

Contarino.--And you had not the least suspicion how powerful an ally I was labouring to procure for you?

Parozzi.--I must blush for myself while I listen to you, since as yet I have done nothing. Yet this I must say in my excuse: Had Matteo, bribed by my gold, accomplished Rosabella's murder, the Doge would have been robbed of that chain with which he holds the chief men in Venice attached to his government. Andreas would have no merit, were Rosabella once removed. The most illustrious families would care no longer for his friendship with their hopes of a connection with him by means of his niece buried in her grave. Rosabella will one day be the Doge's heiress.

Memmo.--All that I can do for you in this business is to provide you with pecuniary supplies. My old miserable uncle, whose whole property becomes mine at his death, has brimful coffers, and the old miser dies whenever I say the word.

Falieri.--You have suffered him to live too long already.

Memmo.--Why, I never have been able to make up my mind entirely to-- You would scarcely believe it, friends, but at times I am so hypochondriac, that I could almost fancy I feel twinges of conscience.

Contarino.--Indeed. Then take my advice, go into a monastery.

Memmo.--Our care first must be to find out our old acquaintances, Matteo's companions: yet, having hitherto always transacted business with them through their captain, I know not where they are to be met with.

Parozzi.--As soon as they are found, their first employment must be the removal of the Doge's trio of advisers.

Contarino.--That were an excellent idea, if it were as easily done as said. Well, then, my friends, this principal point at least is decided. Either we will bury our debts under the ruins of the existing constitution of the Republic, or make Andreas a gift of our heads towards strengthening the walls of the building. In either case, we shall at least obtain quiet. Necessity, with her whip of serpents, has driven us to the very highest point of her rock, whence we must save ourselves by some act of extraordinary daring, or be precipitated on the opposite side into the abyss of shame and eternal oblivion. The next point to be considered is, how we may best obtain supplies for our necessary expenses, and induce others to join with us in our plans. For this purpose we must use every artifice to secure in our interests the courtesans of the greatest celebrity in Venice. What WE should be unable to effect by every power of persuasion, banditti by their daggers, and princes by their treasuries, can one of those Phrynes accomplish with a single look. Where the terrors of the scaffold are without effect, and the exhortations of the priests are heard with coldness, a wanton look and a tender promise often perform wonders. The bell which sounded the hour of assignation has often rang the knell of the most sacred principles and most steadfast resolutions. But should you either fail to gain the mastery over the minds of these women, or fear to be yourselves entangled in the nets which you wish to spread for others, in these cases you must have recourse to the holy father confessors. Flatter the pride of these insolent friars; paint for them upon the blank leaf of futurity bishops' mitres, patriarchal missions, the hats of cardinals, and the keys of St. Peter; my life upon it, they will spring at the bait, and you will have them completely at your disposal. These hypocrites who govern the consciences of the bigoted Venetians, hold man and woman, the noble and the mendicant, the Doge and the gondolier, bound fast in the chains of superstition, by which they can head them wheresoever it best suits their pleasure. It will save us tons of gold in gaining over proselytes, and keeping their consciences quiet when gained, if we can but obtain the assistance of the confessors, whose blessings and curses pass with the multitude for current coin. Now, then, to work, comrades, and so farewell.