“I do not believe a word of all that nonsense,” said Marietta.  “The most important thing is that Zorzi got away from them and is not in prison.”

“If he escaped by selling his soul to the fiends,” said Nella, shaking her head, “it is a very evil thing.”

Her mistress’s disbelief in the blue noses and fiery tails was disconcerting, and had a chilling effect on Nella’s talkative mood.  The gondolier had crossed the bridge, to tell his story to Pasquale, whose view of the case seemed to differ from Nella’s.  He listened with approving interest, but without comment, until the gondolier had finished.

“I could tell you many such stories,” he said.  “Things of this kind often happen at sea.”

“Really!” exclaimed the gondolier, who was only a boatman and regarded real sailors with a sort of professional reverence.

“Yes,” answered Pasquale.  “Especially on Sundays.  You must know that when the priests are all saying mass, and the people are all praying, the devils cannot bear it, and are driven out to sea for the day.  Very strange things happen then, I assure you.  Some day I will tell you how the boatswain of a ship I once sailed in rove the end of the devil’s tail through a link of the chain, made a Flemish knot at the end to stop it, and let go the anchor.  So the devil went to the bottom by the run.  We unshackled the chain and wore the ship to the wind, and after that we had fair weather to the end of the voyage.  It happened on a Sunday.”

“Marvellous!” cried the gondolier.  “I should like to hear the whole story!  But if you will allow me, I will go in and tell the Signor Giovanni what has happened, for he does not know yet.”

Pasquale grinned as he stood in the doorway.

“He has given strict orders that no one is to be admitted this morning, as he is very busy.”

“But this is a very important matter,” argued the gondolier, who wished to have the pleasure of telling the tale.

“I cannot help it,” answered Pasquale.  “Those are his orders, and I must obey them.  You know what his temper is, when he is not pleased.”

Just then a skiff came up the canal at a great rate, so that the quick strokes of the oar attracted the men’s attention.  They saw that the boat was one of those that could be hired everywhere in Venice.  The oarsman backed water with a strong stroke and brought to at the steps before the glass-house.

“Are you not Messer Angelo Beroviero’s gondolier?” he inquired civilly.

“Yes,” answered the man addressed, “I am the head gondolier, at your service.”

“Thank you,” replied the boatman.  “I am to tell you that Messer Angelo has just arrived in Venice by sea, from Rimini, on board the Santa Lucia, a Neapolitan galliot now at anchor in the Giudecca.  He desires you to bring his gondola at once to fetch him, and I am to bring over his baggage in my skiff.”

The gondolier uttered an exclamation of surprise, and then turned to Pasquale.