CHAPTER V: SOLITUDE.



Abellino had already passed six weeks in Venice, and yet, either
from want of opportunity, or of inclination, he had suffered his
daggers to remain idle in their sheaths. This proceeded partly from
his not being as yet sufficiently acquainted with the windings and
turnings, the bye-lanes and private alleys of the town, and partly
because he had hitherto found no customers, whose murderous designs
stood in need of his helping hand.

This want of occupation was irksome to him in the extreme; he panted
for action, and was condemned to indolence.

With a melancholy heart did he roam through Venice, and number every
step with a sigh. He frequented the public places, the taverns, the
gardens, and every scene which was dedicated to amusement. But
nowhere could he find what ho sought--tranquillity.

One evening he had loitered beyond the other visitants in a public
garden, situated on one of the most beautiful of the Venetian
islands. He strolled from arbour to arbour, threw himself down on
the sea-shore, and watched the play of the waves as they sparkled in
the moonshine.

"Four years ago," said he, with a sigh, "just such a heavenly
evening was it, that I stole from Valeria's lips the first kiss, and
heard from Valeria's lips for the first time the avowal that she