judges, has been so poetically, and it may be added so pathetically,
called the Bridge of Sighs.

The oar of Gino now relaxed its efforts, and the gondola approached a
flight of steps over which, as usual, the water cast its little waves.
Stepping on the lowest flag, he thrust a small iron spike to which a
cord was attached, into a crevice between two of the stones, and left
his boat to the security of this characteristic fastening. When this
little precaution was observed, the gondolier passed up lightly beneath
the massive arch of the water-gate of the palace, and entered its large
but gloomy court.

At that hour, and with the temptation of the gay scene which offered in
the adjoining square, the place was nearly deserted. A single female
water-carrier was at the well, waiting for the element to filter into
its basin, in order to fill her buckets, while her ear listened in dull
attention to the hum of the moving crowd without. A halberdier paced the
open gallery at the head of the Giant's Stairs, and, here and there, the
footfall of other sentinels might be heard among the hollow and
ponderous arches of the long corridors. No light was shed from the
windows; but the entire building presented a fit emblem of that
mysterious power which was known to preside over the fortunes of Venice
and her citizens. Ere Gino trusted himself without the shadow of the
passage by which he had entered, two or three curious faces had appeared
at the opposite entrance of the court, where they paused a moment to
gaze at the melancholy and imposing air of the dreaded palace, before
they vanished in the throng which trifled in the immediate proximity of
that secret and ruthless tribunal, as man riots in security even on the
verge of an endless and unforeseen future.