the offences of our past.

Thomaso.—Ha! ha! ha!

Abellino.—What YOU do, that will I do too; I will either hang or be broken on the wheel along with you, or become an honest man, just as you please. Now, then, what is your decision?

Thomaso.—Was there ever such a stupid counsellor.

Pietrino.—Our decision? Nay, the point's not very difficult to decide.

Abellino.—I should have thought it HAD been.

Thomaso.—Without more words, then, I vote for our remaining as we are, and carrying on our old trade; that will bring us plenty of gold, and enable us to lead a jolly life.

Pietrino.—Right, lad, you speak my thoughts exactly.

Thomaso.—We are bravoes, it's true; but what then? We are honest fellows, and the devil take him who dares to say we are not. However, at any rate, we must keep within doors for a few days, lest we should be discovered; for I warrant you the Doge's spies are abroad in search of us by this. But as soon as the pursuit is over, be it our first business to find out Matteo's murderer, and throttle him out of hand as a warning to all others.

All.—Bravo, bravissimo.

Pietrino.—And from this day forth I vote that Thomaso should be our captain.

Struzza.—Aye, in Matteo's stead.

All.—Right, right.

Abellino.—To which I say amen with all my heart. Now, then, all is decided.

BOOK THE SECOND.

CHAPTER I: THE BIRTHDAY.

In solitude and anxiety, with barred windows and bolted doors, did the banditti pass the day immediately succeeding Matteo's murder; every murmur in the street appeared to them a cause of apprehension; every footstep which approached their doors made them tremble till it had passed them.

In the meanwhile the ducal palace blazed with splendour and resounded with mirth. The Doge celebrated the birthday of his fair niece, Rosabella; and the feast was honoured by the presence of the chief persons of the city, of the foreign ambassadors, and of many illustrious strangers who were at that time resident in Venice.

On this occasion no expense had been spared, no source of pleasure had been neglected. The arts contended with each other for superiority; the best poets in Venice celebrated this day with powers excelling anything which they had before exhibited, for the subject of their verses was Rosabella; the musicians and virtuosi surpassed all their