The Bravo by James Fenimore Cooper (reading books for 5 year olds .txt) 📕

arose from the arms of her lover, who, notwithstanding his bonds, released his hold of her slight form with a reluctance greater than that with which he parted with life. The struggle in the mind of Jacopo seemed over. He bowed his head passively to the block, before which he was kneeling; and it is probable, by the manner in which his hands were clasped, that he prayed for her who left him. Not so Gelsomina. Parting her hair over her spotless forehead with both hands, she advanced towards the fishermen, who were familiar to her eye by their red caps and bare limbs. Her smile was like that which the imagination would bestow on the blessed, in their intercourse of love.

"Venetians!" she said, "I cannot blame you; ye are here to witness the death of one whom ye believe unfit to live----"

"The murderer of old Antonio!" muttered several of the group.

"Aye, even the murderer of that aged and excellent man. But when you hear the truth, when you come to know that he whom you have believed an assassin, was a pious child, a faithful servant of the Republic, a gentle gondolier, and a true heart, you will change your bloody purpose for a wish for justice."

A common murmur drowned her voice, which was so trembling and low as to need deep stillness to render the words audible. The Carmelite had advanced to her side, and he motioned earnestly for silence.

"Hear her, men of the Lagunes!" he said; "she utters holy truth."

"This reverend and pious monk, with Heaven, is my witness. When you shall know Carlo better, and have heard his tale, ye will be the first to cry out for his release. I tell you this, that when the Doge shall appear at yon window and make the signal of mercy, you need not be angry, and believe that your class has been wronged. Poor Carlo----"

"The girl raves!" interrupted the moody fishermen. "Here is no Carlo, but Jacopo Frontoni, a common bravo."

Gelsomina smiled, in the security of the innocent, and regaining her breath, which nervous agitation still disturbed, she resumed--

"Carlo or Jacopo--Jacopo or Carlo--it matters little."

"Ha! There is a sign from the palace!" shouted the Carmelite, stretching both his arms in that direction, as if to grasp a boon. The clarions sounded, and another wave stirred the multitude. Gelsomina uttered a cry of delight, and turned to throw herself upon the bosom of the reprieved. The axe glittered before her eyes, and the head of Jacopo rolled upon the stones, as if to meet her. A general movement in the living mass denoted the end.

The Dalmatians wheeled into column, the Sbirri pushed aside the throng on their way to their haunts; the water of the bay was dashed upon the flags; the clotted saw-dust was gathered; the head and trunk, block, basket, axe, and executioner disappeared, and the crowd circulated around the fatal spot.

During this horrible and brief moment neither Father Anselmo nor Gelsomina moved. All was over, and still the entire scene appeared to be delusion.

"Take away this maniac!" said an officer of the police, pointing to Gelsomina as he spoke.

He was obeyed with Venetian readiness, but his words proved prophetic before his servitors had quitted the square. The Carmelite scarce breathed. He gazed at the moving multitude, at the windows of the palace, and at the sun which shone so gloriously in the heavens.

"Thou art lost in this crowd!" whispered one at his elbow. "Reverend Carmelite, you will do well to follow me."

The monk was too much subdued to hesitate. His conductor led him by many secret ways to a quay, where he instantly embarked in a gondola for the main. Before the sun reached the meridian the thoughtful and trembling monk was on his journey towards the States of the Church, and ere long he became established in the castle of Sant' Agata.

At the usual hour the sun fell behind the mountains of the Tyrol, and the moon reappeared above the Lido. The narrow streets of Venice again poured out their thousands upon the squares. The mild light fell athwart the quaint architecture and the giddy tower, throwing a deceptive glory on the city of islands.

The porticoes became brilliant with lamps, the gay laughed, the reckless trifled, the masker pursued his hidden purpose, the cantatrice and the grotesque acted their parts, and the million existed in that vacant enjoyment which distinguishes the pleasures of the thoughtless and the idle. Each lived for himself, while the state of Venice held its vicious sway, corrupting alike the ruler and the ruled, by its mockery of those sacred principles which are alone founded in truth and natural justice. Imprint

Publication Date: 05-04-2008

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