Scarcely had Abellino achieved the bloody deed which employed every
tongue in Venice, when he changed his dress and whole appearance
with so much expedition and success as to prevent the slightest
suspicion of his being Matteo's murderer. He quitted the gardens
unquestioned, nor left the least trace which could lead to a
discovery.

He arrived at Cinthia's dwelling. It was already evening. Cinthia
opened the door, and Abellino entered the common apartment.

"Where are the rest?" said he in a savage tone of voice whose sound
made Cinthia tremble.

"They have been asleep," she answered, "since mid-day. Probably
they mean to go out on some pursuit to-night." Abellino threw
himself into a chair, and seemed to be lost in thought.

"But why are you always so gloomy, Abellino?" said Cinthia, drawing
near him; "it's that which makes you so ugly. Prithee away with
those frowns; they make your countenance look worse than nature made
it?"

Abellino gave no answer.

"Really, you are enough to frighten a body! Come, now, let us be
friends, Abellino; I begin not to dislike you, and to endure your
appearance; and I don't know but--"

"Go, wake the sleepers!" roared the bravo.