He is gone; though he is not far; still is he beyond the reach of the swiftest gondola in Venice, praised be St.Mark!" The Carmelite bowed his head, where he was seated, and his lips moved, either in prayer or in thanksgiving.
"Are you sorry, monk, that a sinner has escaped ?" "Son, I rejoice that this bitter office hath passed from me, while I mourn that there should be a spirit so depraved as to require it.

Let us summon the servants of the Republic, and inform them that their errand is useless." "Be not of haste, good father.

The night is gentle, and these hirelings sleep on their oars, like gulls in the Lagunes.

The youth will have more time for repentance, should he be undisturbed." The Carmelite, who had risen, instantly reseated himself, like one actuated by a strong impulse.
"I thought he had already been far beyond pursuit," he muttered, unconsciously apologizing for his apparent haste.
"He is over bold, and I fear he will row back to the canals, in which case you might meet nearer to the city--or there may be more gondolas of the state out--in short, father, thou wilt be more certain to escape hearing the confession of a Bravo, by listening to that of a fisherman, who has long wanted an occasion to acknowledge his sins." Men who ardently wish the same result, require few words to understand each other.

The Carmelite took, intuitively, the meaning of his companion, and throwing back his cowl, a movement that exposed the countenance of Father Anselmo, he prepared to listen to the confession of the old man.
"Thou art a Christian, and one of thy years hath not to learn the state of mind that becometh a penitent," said the monk, when each was ready.
"I am a sinner, father; give me counsel and absolution, that I may have hope." "Thy will be done--thy prayer is heard--approach and kneel." Antonio, who had fastened his line to his seat, and disposed of his net with habitual care, now crossed himself devoutly, and took his station before the Carmelite.