Max Pemberton

“ A curious smile spread over the face of the friar. He continued to stroke her hair in silence. Her heart beat quick for she knew that he would help her.
"So it is Scavezzo, the Canon, who complains, Nina. The people laughed, you say?"
"You could not hear yourself speak, excellency. Oh, they do not love Scavezzo; they would not wish us to leave them. And Venice is so dear to us—you will not send us away, excellency?"
Frà Giovanni shook his head doubtingly.
"Who am I, Nina, that the police should listen to me?"
"You are the friend of the friendless, excellency." ”

“ Even in distant Venice the clamour was heard, and the report believed that Murano was in arms. As for Scavezzo himself, he had the mind neither to think nor to protest any more. The ultimate humiliation had overtaken him. Whatever the years might have in store for him, this must remain, that he, the darling Canon of the women of Venice, had stood in a pillory on the island of Murano. He could have prayed to God that the earth would open and swallow him up.
Throughout that long afternoon, the man who had sworn to banish the clowns from Venice, was the mock and the sport of the islanders. ”

“ Giacomo leered pleasantly.
"They have come down from Paradise, excellency; never were such women seen. Your reverence does well to turn your eyes away."
The fat Canon groaned inaudibly; he emptied his goblet at a draught.
"Let us not speak of them, Giacomo. Let us remember to mortify——"
His platitude, doubtlessly good, was cut short by a new exclamation from the old servant at the window.
"Ho! ho!" he said, "here come the clowns! I see Barbarino the fool, and little Nina the dancing girl. And there is harlequin—legs of a thousand devils, I can hear the laughter now. ”

“ For quite a long time the Canon stood at the door of the house, shaking his head, as one who is perplexed beyond understanding.
"I wear a suit of brown clothes, and wake in a house I have never seen," he said, continuing to nod his head mechanically. "A boatman calls me Michael, and insults me. I am upon the island of Murano, and I can see my home across the water. Has someone robbed me of my senses, then? Do I sleep still? Am I gone mad in a night? I will believe no such thing. ”

“ Scavezzo, meanwhile, had brought his supper to an abrupt conclusion. The memory of the clowns was as vinegar upon his meat. He said that he would wake to-morrow to hear that Barbarino and his daughter, Nina, had gone, bag and baggage, to the mainland. And with this happy assurance to give him peace, he called to Giacomo to bring his coffee.
"You are growing deaf in your old age, Giacomo. Coffee, my friend, coffee."
To his infinite surprise, the old man at the window did not answer a single word. Rather he stood as one petrified, now looking to the square below, now at his master. ”

“ One of them, resting upon his oar, spoke to the Canon, and the words were the strangest Scavezzo had ever heard.
"How! Michael, and who brought you home from carnival?" cried the man.
Scavezzo drew himself up proudly.
"Impudent fellow," he said, "do you not see to whom you are talking?"
The man roared with laughter.
"Behold!" said he, "am I not talking to Michael, the wood-carver, who came home last night with his heels where his head should have been? Shame on him for a guzzling rogue that has forgotten the name he bears." ”

“ It is true that I drank a little red wine with my meat, but a flagon like that, as big as the dome of a church, it is monstrous, it is cruel, signore!"
The stranger dragged him on, regardless of his distress.
"Courage," he said, "we are going to the police. Trust them to right a wrong, father. To-morrow all Venice shall hear that Scavezzo, the Canon, is in the dungeons of the palace."
The Canon laughed ironically, hysterically.
"I am another then," he exclaimed; "this morning I was Scavezzo, but Scavezzo is dead. He dances on a barrel, and there is a fool's cap on his head. ”

“ Scavezzo did not heed him. His hand shook with passion. Giacomo said afterwards that he descended his staircase with steps which made the house quake. He must stop the procession! He must pull the buffoon, who was his other self, from the throne whereon the clowns had placed him! Never must Venice be left to believe that a Canon of St. Mark's had so disgraced himself. The mere determination gave him a nerve of iron. A man of quick temper, his mind dwelt lovingly upon the punishment to-morrow should bring upon the miscreants who had mocked him. They should be burnt with irons, he said ”

“ And when night fell, and there was music of fifes and the strings were tuned in every house, and the city put on a dazzling raiment of countless lanterns, the people had their turn, and hurried in their thousands to welcome the people's procession upon the Piazza—to assist in a masquerade surpassing anything known in all the history of carnival. ”

“ We will go to the police, and see if they permit such disgraceful sights in their city. A Canon dancing in a booth like a common harlequin. What an example for the people!"
He spoke with a fine assumption of anger, and Scavezzo, in his turn, permitted himself to be dragged through the outer ranks of the delighted crowd; but his cassock was torn as he went, and he groaned often.
"I have never danced in all my life," he protested piteously; " God did not make me to dance. ”

“ Scavezzo took a large piece of meat upon his fork, and surveyed it with great satisfaction.
"And behind the priests—who walk behind the priests, Giacomo?"
"Two hundred and fifty with torches, your excellency. It is night, made day. The eyes are blinded with the fire. ”