"Aided by a powerful arm and a fleet gondola, thy chance will be as good
as another's, Gino," said Don Camillo, closing the door of his cabinet
on his servant; "at present thou mayest give some proof of zeal in my
service, in another manner. Is the face of a man called Jacopo Frontoni
known to thee?"

"Eccellenza!" exclaimed the gondolier, gasping for breath.

"I ask thee if thou knowest the countenance of one named Frontoni?"

"His countenance, Signore!"

"By what else would'st thou distinguish a man?"

"A man, Signor' Don Camillo!"

"Art thou mocking thy master, Gino? I have asked thee if thou art
acquainted with the person of a certain Jacopo Frontoni, a dweller here
in Venice?"

"Eccellenza, yes."

"He I mean has been long remarked by the misfortunes of his family; the
father being now in exile on the Dalmatian coast, or elsewhere."

"Eccellenza, yes."

"There are many of the name of Frontoni, and it is important that thou
should'st not mistake the man. Jacopo, of that family, is a youth of
some five-and-twenty, of an active frame and melancholy visage, and of